Signed, Sealed, Betrayed

"...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