"...don't... stop..."

The vibrator would not turn off.

I wrapped myself in a throw, clamped my thighs around the thing still going inside me, and hobbled to the door to let the delivery guy in. Begging him, in my head, to please just help me.

My name is Nicole Reeves. I'm 29, and I have a very high sex drive. I used to be a software engineer, which was as dry as it sounds. These days I run an online adult-novelty shop.

Every product photo on the site is me. Face, body, all of it. Two full breasts, a narrow waist, long pale legs, small smooth feet without a single callus.

Which means the creeps online lose their minds. They send me 'inquiries,' asking whether I deliver in person after they place an order.

Keep dreaming, boys.

I looked up at the delivery guy in my living room, who was blushing like crazy while he helped me box up orders. Brandon Hayes. If it was him, I might actually think about it.

Brandon ran the route for my building. Somewhere under thirty, a solid six-one, tan skin, thick arms, and a very generous bulge in the front of his work pants. In the daytime he looked after me like a brother. In my dreams, he was significantly less brotherly.

Meeting him was the first time I understood what 'chemistry' actually means. Every time he was in the room, I wanted him on me. My underwear would soak through.

But we had not crossed a line. I was still single. So when the itch came, I had to settle for filth on my laptop and my own frustration.

The last few days, because of Prime Day, my shop had blown up. Brandon had been by twice in one day, hauling boxes out of my apartment.

"One for you, too, Nicole." On his way out, he held up a small package. The outer poly bag was torn open, its corners mashed in.

15D SILICONE. 107°F THERMOSTATIC. TRIPLE-POINT STIMULATION.

The label was staring me in the face. I froze.

Brandon scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. "Probably the Prime Day backlog. A lot of packages came through the hub beat to hell. Just the outer bag, though. The inner box is fine."

The vibrator was an absurdly expensive one. I'd bought it to test personally, to see if I should add the model to my store's line. And now Brandon had seen it.

I was so red I thought my face would bleed. I shoved him out the door, pretending to scold him. "You... one more crushed box from you and I'm filing a complaint."

I pulled the product out and sucked in a breath.

Flesh-colored. Thick raised veins running up the shaft like some kind of insect. It looked startlingly real. Though, honestly, probably a little smaller than whatever Brandon had going on in those work pants.

I did not waste another second. Pulled up the projector, slipped into one of my lace sets, and queued up a clip. Two people going at it on screen. I sat on the couch and tried to imagine I was her.

My hand alone was not going to cut it. I needed the toy.

I switched it on.

It knew exactly what it was doing. The in-and-out rhythm hit just right, and a full-body tingle washed through me. I moaned and shut my eyes and cupped my own breast, letting wave after wave of current work me over. The thing was aggressive.

Under ten minutes in, I was gone. Out of my mind.

My head was a slideshow of Brandon. Is he bigger than this? Is he better with his hands? Is his tongue as agile as I'm imagining?

There's a full-length smart mirror in my living room with a built-in ring light. Brandon had given it to me, actually. Said it came off the truck with a small chip in the frame, and if I didn't mind, it was mine for free. I use it for every product shoot.

I looked at myself in it now. Lips parted. Lace set barely hanging on. Skin flushed. I wanted hands on me. Anyone's.

Right as I was about to fall over the edge, I heard something at the door that definitely was not from the movie.

"Ah!" My eyes shot open. My body, already wound tight, went off the second the outside world touched it.

"Who... who's there?" I stared at the front door. Panicked. Clamped my legs shut.

A beat of silence. Then Brandon, on the other side.

"Uh. It's me, Nicole. Sorry. I forgot this one needs a signature in person."

"You... hold on!" The second I heard his voice my body squeezed down on the toy and I tipped my head back, breathing in short shallow bursts.

I had never used one of these before. I fumbled for the power button to kill it, and instead hit the mode switch and bumped it up a setting. Off was not working. Off had apparently stopped being an option.

I was soaked through. The toy would not come out, would not shut down, and was fitting itself deeper into me the more I panicked, which only made me shake harder.

"Can... can you come back this afternoon? I'm sort of in the middle of something."

"Thing is, I'm off this afternoon and all day tomorrow. A signature's five seconds." Brandon sounded a little strained. Fair. Delivery guys get paid per stop. No reason to bust his chops.

I grabbed a thin throw, wrapped it around myself, clamped my thighs around the toy and shuffled toward the door. I was going to crack it, sign through the gap, and be done with this.

I got there and realized the door was not locked. Only pulled shut.

God. Had he seen me.

"Nicole, why is your face that color? You were fine when I left ten minutes ago. Are you running a fever?" Brandon was already reaching up to press the back of his hand to my forehead.

He smelled like him. Clean sweat and aftershave and just... male. My knees nearly gave out.

"I'm... I'm fine. Here." I scribbled a shaky signature, shoved the pad at him, and tried to will him out the door.

Part of me was screaming at him to throw me down and ruin me. Not ruin me. Take care of me. God.

The toy was still going inside me. My legs kept twitching involuntarily. I stepped back on instinct.

"You can't even stand up and you're telling me you're fine." He closed the space and put an arm around my shoulder. "Come on. I'm taking you to urgent care."

"No... oh... don't, you said you've got somewhere to be, just go." I bit my lip and shook my head, and a sound came out of me I absolutely did not want him to hear. I could not help it. His arm on me was too solid.

Every nerve I had was firing. A hand on my shoulder and I was losing it.

I tried to push him off. My hands went into his chest, and instead of pushing I just sagged into him.

"Nothing's more important than this." He bent down like he was going to pick me up bridal-style.

The toy shifted deeper.

Whatever shred of restraint I had left snapped.

"No... just... come in. Just help me. That's all." I stopped explaining and pulled him inside.

I collapsed back onto the couch by the door and spread my legs in a stupid, desperate shape, begging him. "Don't... don't look. It's broken. Just... get it out."

"Nicole. You..." Brandon's face caught up to what he was seeing. The flush spread down his neck; a vein in it jumped.

He dropped into a crouch in front of me on autopilot. His throat worked. His breathing had gone rough. The heat of it on my skin was making everything worse.

I had thought about him this way before, sure. In dreams. Never like this.

"Mmh..." I bit down on my lip and a moan escaped anyway.

Please do not think I'm seducing him. I turned my face away and tried to tune out what he was doing. "Hurry. Just hurry."

"Alright, uh. Must be a defect. I'll pop the battery cover. Hang tight." He forced a small cough, going for casual. The strained tent in his work pants wasn't selling it.

Men really do run on the other brain. Point proven.

I closed my eyes. Could not look at him.

I was praying he would get the damn thing out so I could disappear into the floor. My body was doing the opposite. My body wanted him to keep going. My body wanted more than his fingers.

His face was scarlet. He gripped the base of the toy to get to the battery compartment, but the motion dragged it inside me. It felt good. It felt amazing. I shook harder.

I was right on the edge. I could not let this happen in front of him.

My eyes opened on reflex. And I caught the look in his. That was not embarrassment. That was hunger.

I flinched back. One of his big hands closed around my waist, holding me in place. His voice was low and raw.

"Nicole. Don't move. I've got you."