Page 116 of Wrangled

“Just checking on his whereabouts.” Toby lowered his voice. “Where’s the prostate massager?”

I stilled. “In the nightstand drawer where you left it, but… ranch supper, remember? All the hands? Not to mention Declan, Garrett?”

He stared at me. “Go upstairs and put it in.”

Shock thrummed through me. “There’s no time. They’ll be here any minute.”

“Kind of my point tonight.” That stare softened. “Two-way street, remember? Now’s the time to say no—”

“Wait.” Fuck, my heart was pounding. “No… to knowing I’ve got something up my—”

“Ass?” he proffered.

“Sleeve,” I said, laughing. “I was going to say sleeve.” Then I swallowed. “But with all the guys here?”

Toby studied me. “That scare you a little?”

Another hard swallow. “Yeah. I’m their boss.” And while they all knew what Toby and I got up to—or at least they could guess—that didn’t mean I wanted them knowing just how far we went.

For God’s sake, let me keeponefucking secret.

He came in close, his breath warm on my neck. “I won’t embarrass you, because I know there are some things you want to keep private. And if this is forcing you out of your comfort zone, then it’s okay to tell me that.” He kissed my neck, and I shivered. “But living is more than just breathing, all right? Now and then you need to do something that scares you a little—preferably with someone you trust. So I guess what I’m asking is… do you trust me?”

Nowtherewas the million-dollar question.

I licked my lips, my mouth dry. “Yes, Sir,” I whispered.

Lord, his smile… It could fuel the state, let alone a small town.

“Good boy.” He kissed me on the lips. “So… here’s what we’ll do. Your water glass during supper—or your glass of iced tea, whatever. One tap on it with your finger means stop, okay? And two means ease off.”

“I guess three means keep doing what you’re doing.” My cock filled at the idea of Toby edging me while everyone around us ate supper, blissfully unaware.

Yeah, this was truly Dom and sub territory, and I was delighted to be back in it.

“Then we’re good to go?”

“Yeah.” I took a deep breath. “I want this.” I bit my lip. “I’d better go upstairs and put it in, then.”

He beamed. “Good boy.”

I went upstairs to my room, grabbed the lube and the massager, and laid them on the bed while I shoved my jeans to my knees. I got on my back, drew my legs toward my chest, and slicked it up. My hole had tightened a little since our slow morning fuck—except that had turned into a fast, hard fuck within minutes—so I slid the toy inside me with care.

My phone pinged in my jeans pocket, and I peered at it.

Come downstairs.

I pulled my jeans up, expecting the massager to burst into life, but nothing happened.

I knew it.

I’d been right all along. It was an instrument of torture. As I left my room and headed for the stairs, I heard voices below. I walked into the living room to find all the hands had arrived, Declan and Garrett too—and there was Diana, standing next to the fireplace.

Oh hell no.

I gaped at her. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Toby’s watchful gaze let me know he was looking for any sign that whatever play he’d had in mind needed to stop before it even got started.

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