Reveal (A Wild Nights Novel)

by K. M. Golland

  She groaned. “You slept in.”

  “So did you,” I countered, stretching again and putting my phone back down.

  My bed dipped and Cori lifted the blankets to climb in. “How’d it go last night?”

  I shuffled over a little to accommodate her. “How’d what go?”

  “You and Brad. You both looked a little ‘hot and bothered’ when you left the bonfire.”

  “Do you want the long story or the short?”

  “The middle. And no sound effects. Your vocal account of that one-night stand a few months ago was disgusting.”

  I laughed. “Okay. No vocal theatrics. But you’ve got to admit that I rock at anal replay.”

  Cori’s foot made friendly contact with my leg—friendly contact that hurt a little. “Ow!” I reached down and rubbed it, my glare toward her anything but fierce. “Okay. Soooo … after Brad and I left the bonfire, we headed down to the water’s edge, and the next thing I know, he’s on his knees, his lips are creeping up my inner thigh, and his finger is exploring my kitty cave.”

  “Really?” She sounded a little distracted. She was also wiggling like a worm with eczema.

  I turned my head to look at her. “What are you doing?”

  “Hang on … I’ve found …”

  “What?”

  “This.” Her face was scrunched as she struggled to reveal what she’d found, finally pulling my BOB out from underneath the blankets. Oh! Oops.

  “Is that your—oh my GOD! It is! EW!”

  She screamed and launched BOB into the air, and I could do nothing but watch helplessly, as my beloved pink vibrator soared across the room as if in slow-motion and hit the wall, breaking and falling to the floor.

  “Nooooooooo! BOB!” I cried, flinging the blankets on top of Bitch-faced BOB-breaker and scrambling to the ground where he lay lifeless and with a rather large contusion—break … whatever—along his posterior. His injuries looked bad, and I didn’t want to touch him in case he’d fractured his neck … or something. Ugh! What am I saying? I tried the buttons. He was dead—his buzz, gone.

  Delicately scooping him up, I slowly stood and turned around to find Cori with one hand over her wide-open mouth, displaying a holy-shit-I’m-in-trouble face, while the other hand was held out as if it were contaminated.

  I pouted. “You murderer!”

  “It was self-defence,” she mumbled behind her hand.

  “Lies. BOB never hurt anyone.”

  “He attacked my leg. I swear.”

  I could tell she was trying desperately not to laugh, her eyelids blinking rapidly, her smile creeping out from underneath the edges of her fingers. In all honestly, I was trying not to laugh as well. The situation, her expression, and her dangling hand were simply hilarious.

  “What am I going to do?” I asked dramatically, my cupped hands held out in front of me presenting a deceased BOB to her.

  She stood up and walked toward me, stopping to place her ‘uncontaminated’ hand on my shoulder. “I think you know what it is you have to do.” She gave me a sympathetic squeeze. “I’ll give you a few moments alone to say your goodbyes.” Cori then headed to the bathroom, no doubt to wash her hand.

  I laughed quietly then sighed. “It was good while it lasted, BOB. Thanks for the multiples. You did good.”

  Placing the pink wand of wonderment in its satin pouch, I laid it to rest in the tranquil setting of the trashcan, covering it with the empty Honey and Soy Lay’s chip packet from the night before.

  BOB was now at peace. RIP BOB.

  The bathroom door opened, and Cori wrapped her arms around my waist from behind, her head resting on my shoulder while giving me a hug. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  I nodded. “Thanks. He was just … he was just so young. It wasn’t his time.” Turning around to face her and wriggling out of her embrace, I placed my hands on her shoulders. “But you know what this means, right?”

  “What ‘what’ means?”

  “This.” I gestured to the trashcan. “It means we’re going shopping … for a new BOB! BOB II.”

  Her eyebrow shot up. “I think you mean BOB X.”

  “Not quite. More like BOB VI.” I winked and stepped away, claiming first shower by closing the bathroom door behind me. I needed to freshen up. I had a big decision ahead—Bullet or Lelo.

  ***

  “There it is, Baz!”

  I pointed excitedly to the SexyLand store then gave the revue’s bus driver a well-deserved pat on the back.

  Baz steered the Mitsubishi ROSA into the parking lot and pulled to a stop, occupying three car spaces. “I’ll just wait here,” he said, glancing through the front windscreen at the shopfront while pulling the handbrake on.

  “Aw … Baz.” I leaned over his shoulder and smiled cheekily at him. “You sure you don’t want to come with us and get yourself a good stick mag?”

  He scoffed and reached forward, grabbing an apple from a small basket on top of the dashboard. “Here, have an apple. You probably haven’t eaten today.”

  “Um … I have, but thanks.” I took the apple from him and shrugged, biting into it.

  “Baz thinks everyone is malnourished, Em. He’s forever plying us with apples. But we love him for it, don’t we, Baz?” Cori held her hand out like a good little girl, and Baz playfully rolled his eyes and handed her an apple. “Don’t forget Josh,” she said in a hushed voice. “I don’t think he’s eaten fruit since the last apple you gave him.” Cori winked then glanced in the direction of where Josh and the others sat, a flush spreading across her cheeks. She then turned and exited the bus.

  “Thanks, Baz,” I mumbled around a mouthful of chewed-up apple, smiling and bounding down the steps after her.

  We’d walked a few metres across the parking lot when Baz called out to Josh—who was just stepping off the bus—to “catch”, prompting both Cori and I to stop, turn around, and look back, finding the sexy man-whore turned good-boy skilfully accepting an airborne apple in one hand.

  “Thanks, mate,” he called back before taking a bite.

  Cori leaned in to me and murmured, “I can’t look at a Granny Smith apple without my vagina singing to me.”

  “Really?” I wasn’t convinced. Yeah, Josh was all kinds of hot. Bad hot. Dangerous hot. But hot enough while eating an apple to prompt muff vocals? I didn’t think so. “Come on … what he does to an apple can’t be that good.”

  She laughed and fanned her face. “Oh yes it can.”

  “Well, I hope he doesn’t fuck it, because that’s just wrong.”

  Cori pressed her lips together and looked up to her right as if in thought. She then scrunched her nose and tilted her head from side to side, as if unsure of whether to say yes or no.

  “NO!” I blurted out, a little too loudly. “Please don’t tell me he fucks the apple.”

  She hit me on the arm. “Of course not. Think applelingus”

  Thank Christ for that! I had a client who was a sitophiliac. I called him F, because his user name was Foodie, and when he’d first started sexting me, I’d assumed he was a chef. He wasn’t. Not even close. Think American Pie. Yep. One of the first things he asked me to do was shove a cucumber up my twat. Of course I didn’t, because never gonna happen. But F didn’t need to know that, so I’d played along—as per usual—and sexted that the cucumber was cold, hard, and kind of a big dill—he didn’t get my joke. He obviously didn’t like dill pickles.

  “So what’s the big deal?” I asked, nearly laughing at my choice of words.

  “What’s the big deal? Right, you’re gonna have to see for yourself. I’ll try to get him to do it when we’re in the shop. Keep a distance, but keep watching,” she instructed with a sneaky, underhanded and extremely funny devious grin.

  “Roger that. I’m goin’ in and taking cover.” I winked and used my hands as a pretend pistol, Charlie’s Angels style, holding them against my chest with my pointer fingers aimed at my chin like a gun barrel would.

  Dramatical
ly looking both ways before crossing the last section of the car park, I turned to Cori and nodded while moving stealth-like before entering the store.

  “Afternoon,” the sales assistant said, greeting me.

  I smiled and dropped my hands to my sides, a little shocked by the instant welcome, not to mention that entering a shop looking as if you were holding a gun—even a fake finger-gun—was a very bad idea.

  “G’day,” I replied.

  “Can I help you with anything?”

  Yeah, I need a BOB to end all BOBs. A BOBgantic. A BOBasaurus. A BOBidable Snowma—actually no. That one sounds too cold.

  “No thanks. Just browsing.”

  “No worries. Just yell out if you need anything.”

  “Will do.”

  I chose an aisle not too far from the door and waited for the others to enter the store, dipping my head to look at the products before me.

  Butt plugs.

  Excellent! I could do with a new one. Oooh! That one’s pretty. It looks like a glass teardrop. I took it off the rack for a better look, but then another one caught my eye. Ooooh! That one is glittery. I like glitter. I swapped the teardrop for the blue glittery one, smiling when I held it up and it sparkled. That was also when I noticed Cori and Josh in my periphery vision, four aisles away. She was facing me with her back to Josh, pretending to legitimately peruse the products in front of her.

  Wanting to get closer so that I could hear their conversation, I walked slowly to the next aisle, noticing another range of butt plugs.

  Novelty butt plugs. Awesome!

  Oh my God! Is that a fluffy tail? Picking up my pace, I stepped up to the tail and ran my hand over it. Ooooh! It was soft. Very soft. And it felt nice. Really nice. I couldn’t help myself and continued to stroke it while concentrating on what Josh and Cori were saying.

  “Honestly, it did nothing for me.” Her tone was uninterested.

  Josh took a bite of his apple. “You’re lying, sweetheart.”

  “Nope.” She shrugged. “I’m not.”

  “Yeah, you are. You’d prefer me to be eating you instead of this apple.”

  A slow smile crept across her face, but she quickly removed it before he noticed. “Nah. Too messy.”

  Josh stepped up behind her, pressed his chest to her back and wrapped one arm around her shoulder, holding her tightly to him. I quickly looked down, thinking he was about to spot me perving on them, which would ruin my applelingus demonstration. I didn’t want that to happen. I needed to see applelingus.

  Glancing up just slightly, I found that neither of them were focussed on me. Instead, Cori read the packet of what looked like nipple tassels, and Josh rotated the apple in his hand, as if studying what part to bite next. A look of lascivious hunger flooded his eyes, and he licked the apple, slowly—one big, long delicious swipe from core-tip to core-tip. Holy shit! That was kinda hot. He then performed the same thing again, this time lathing from her shoulder to that sensitive spot right below the ear. Yep. That was kinda hot, too. A tingle danced across the skin of my neck, and I had to gently massage the spot to make it go away. Be gone, tingle.

  Cori’s eyes had closed at some point during Josh’s oral tease, and I’m guessing it wasn’t due to her being sleepy. Although, I had absolutely no idea what time she’d come back to our room last night. It was after I’d fallen asleep, and that was gone two a.m.

  Her eyes slowly fluttered open again and instantly found mine.

  She bit her lip.

  I raised my eyebrow.

  She nodded minutely.

  I smiled. Applelingus. I get it now.

  “That the best you can do?” she asked in a provocative sing-song voice.

  He nipped her shoulder. “You know it’s not.”

  “Do I?”

  Josh growled and took his frustration out on the innocent fruit in his hand, and I would normally feel sorry for a victim of such ferocity, but not that one. Uh-uh. The repetitive tongue flicks, swipes, swirls and sucking that he was performing deserved no sympathy whatsoever. None at all. Zip. Zilch. Wow!

  My vagina sang like Cori’s, wanting nothing more than to be a Granny Smith apple. It wanted to roll across the floor and land at Josh’s feet with the hope he’d be hungry enough to eat it, too. Because wow! Just wow. Bad vagina.

  “You got a thing for foxes?”

  Whaaaa?

  I turned toward the voice that had snapped me out of my applelingus eye-show, finding Brad wearing an enormous shit-eating grin, the crinkle near his eye bigger than I’d ever seen it—it stunned me even more.

  “What?”

  He nodded toward my hand. “My cock is jealous of the stroking action you’re giving that fox’s tail.”

  Glancing down at my hand, I realised I’d been subconsciously giving the foxtail butt plug a descent hand job. “Oh. It’s soft. I like soft things,” I explained, looking back up.

  He stepped toward me. “I cover myself in baby oil every day. I’m the softest fucking thing you’ll ever touch.”

  My jaw fell open, but I quickly brought it back up again. Of course he does. He’d be softer than me. Softer than a baby’s bum. Nothing but softness.

  Collecting the foxtail from the rack, I stepped closer to him and trailed it across his face. “You think you’re softer than that?”

  “Did you just wipe my face with a butt plug?” His tone was flat, monotonous … devoid of humour.

  Mine wasn’t.

  “Yes,” I said bursting into laughter. “I did.”

  Brad threaded his arm around my back, splayed his hand across my arse, and pulled me flush to him. I hit his hard, strong chest with a light thud, and although the contact was gentle, the force still stole the air from my lungs.

  Blinking perhaps a little too much, and not being able to take in another breath because the freckle on his nose distracted me and prevented me from doing anything else, I became lost in his embrace. He had such a sweet disposition, sweet yet infused with dominant desire and an outright sexiness that radiated off every pore dotting his skin’s surface. It penetrated me and coursed through my body every time I was in his presence, overpowering my senses and wielding its control. I’d never experienced anything like it.

  Brad’s fingers twitched slightly, one slowly creeping to the crevice of my arse and pushing against my opening. I was wearing a light summer dress, so the material was thin—his finger was heavy. I automatically contracted my muscles and drew away from the delightful pressure, which propelled my body harder against his. Whoa!

  His erection caressed my belly. Full, solid … its presence was unmistakable. I couldn’t help but to rub against it just slightly. I mean … it was there, right in front of me, on me … taunting me.

  Brad’s finger found my arse again, and he pushed, again. I sucked in a sharp, surprised breath, uncontrollably elevating to my tiptoes while letting it out slowly with a shallow sigh against his lips. Our eyes locked, my mouth open, his … opening.

  “You like that?” he asked, his voice low, gruff, and laced with filthy desire.

  My answer was but a whisper. “Yes.”

  He groaned and pushed a little harder, and this time I didn’t shy away from the intrusion—I met it … and welcomed it. “I do. Very much so.”

  “What the fuck is this? An anchor?” Noah blurted out from the aisle behind us, bursting Brad’s and my bubble of finger-pushed-on-butt-hole fun.

  With our eyes still locked on one another’s, I lowered from my tiptoes, stepping away just a little to create some much-needed distance. Our bodies were rigid, yet there was a sense of calm floating in the space between us, a sense of acceptance that we both knew what the other wanted.

  Slowly turning his head in his brother’s direction, Brad hissed through his gritted teeth, “What the fuck does it look like?”

  “An anchor,” Noah replied, holding it up to face us.

  I couldn’t help but giggle. That was exactly what it looked like.

  “And this one looks
like a doorknob.” Noah put the anchor down and picked up a large, round, ball-shaped plug. “Hey, Dimps, found your birthday present.”

  He walked off in the direction of Dimps and Chief, who were both in the role-play/costume section, Dimps holding up what looked like a pair of police officer’s spandex short-shorts and hat, and Chief not looking impressed.

  “Does Dimps play the role of bad-boy police-guy in the show?” I asked.

  Brad shook his head and stepped toward me, swallowing the distance I’d created, his eyes still flaring mischief. “No. He’s the builder.”

  I nodded in acknowledgement and took another step away from him, keeping my eyes trained on his. “And Josh?”

  “Biker.”

  Another step.

  “Chief?”

  “Police officer.”

  “Makes sense.” I inched backwards again and laughed, though I felt anything but humorous. Brad’s hungry eyes and deliberate advances made me nervous, in an equally good and bad way. Swallowing, I rounded the end of the aisle. “How ’bout Noah?”

  “Noah is a dirty businessman and sometimes a firefighter.”

  “A businessman?” I scrunched my face. “I can’t see him being that.”

  “A Dom businessman.”

  Oh! Now that I can see.

  “Huh. And you’re the hot, tanned surfer?”

  He stopped and faced me, him in one aisle and me in the other with the product partition the only thing separating us. “I am. And if you’re lucky I might pick you to come on stage and ride my board.”

  I smiled at him. “I’ve already ridden your board, Brad. How many do you have?”

  “Three,” he said, leaning over the top of the partition, “and I want you to ride all of them.”

  The suggestive tone of his voice dripped with sex appeal as his eyes deviated from looking into mine and glimpsed my lips and chest. My God, he was hot. Super hot, intense, and unrelenting … in a strangely polite way. Brad was definitely an alpha male, but he also possessed a kindness that never had me feeling intimidated by his pursuit. He used the right amount of ‘I want you and I’ll have you’ but then garnished it with ‘as long as you’re comfortable with that’. It was incredibly irresistible. In fact, if I glanced down right about now, I swear we’d both have puddles at our feet, his liquid sex, and mine drool. His puddle would be better though. His puddle was sexy as hell.