Page 95 of Bleacher Report
Nestled inside the box is a sleek, glittery turquoise dildo—Hawkeye’s green, no less—and it looks suspiciously like a certain part of Hunter’s anatomy that I’ve become intimately familiar with.
"What the—" I sputter, heat flooding my cheeks. "Hunter, did you...?"
He chuckles, low and rich, clearly enjoying himself.
"Yep. Had it custom-made, just for you. An exact replica of your favorite phallus," he says, completely unbothered. "You know...since I can’t be there to take care of you myself."
I’m torn between mortification and...something else.
Something hot and needy that coils low in my belly and refuses to be ignored.
"You’re unbelievable," I mutter, even as my fingers trace the smooth, glittering silicone.
"Oh, I know," he says. "But admit it, Collins. You love it. I even made it Hawkeye's colors—I thought you’d appreciate the team spirit."
I open my mouth to respond—but he keeps going, tone dropping into a mock-serious deadpan.
"And don’t even think about returning it. I don’t want my cock ending up in some stranger’s hands. Plus...That molding wax got everywhere. I was pulling it out of my ass hairs for a week. And the expedite fee they charged to get it here before I left town? Straight highway robbery."
A choked laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it.
God help me, this ridiculous, infuriating man.
I bite my lip, cheeks burning, as my fingers keep skimming the surface of the gift.
Equal parts thoughtful and depraved—and so very him.
And yeah...it’s doing things to me that I really shouldn’t be thinking about right now.
Hunter’s voice softens, the teasing falling away.
"Hey," he says gently. "You okay?"
I swallow hard. "Yeah, I'm... I'm fine. Just, um, processing, I guess."
He chuckles. "Well, take your time. I'm not going anywhere." His voice drops an octave, smooth and sinful. "At least, not the fun parts. Do you like your present? It’s an upgrade from that tiny thing in your drawer, right?"
I glance down at the dildo still in my hands, fighting a smile.
Now he’s fishing for compliments.
"I’m not sure..." I tease. "Maybe we should do a measuring test to be sure which one’s bigger."
He groans, like I just stabbed him in the heart.
"You know how to cut a man straight to the core."
I bite back a laugh. "Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m teasing."
"No, no," he says dryly. "I like it. Love being emasculated before my flight."
I glance down at the dildo still in my hands, fighting a wicked smile.
He’s clearly waiting for praise—and maybe something else.
"I’m not sure..." I tease. "Might need to take it for a spin before I give a full review."
There’s a sharp inhale on the other end of the line.
