Wardrobe Malfunction(14)

“Opinions vary.”

She sucks in a breath, anger flashing through her eyes. Then, she blows out a calming breath.

A sick part of me is enjoying this. Watching her squirm.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like someone stabbed me in one of my balls with a pin.”

She grimaces. “I honestly don’t know what happened.”

“I do. You weren’t paying attention to what you were doing.”

Her mouth opens, but no words come out. Very slowly, she closes her mouth.

“I brought you something.” She reaches into her oversized bag and pulls out a parcel wrapped in brown paper along with an envelope.

She hands the envelope over.

I open it and pull out what appears to be a homemade card.

It is a homemade card. A little old-style film camera, a clapper board, and the Hollywood sign—all made out of different fabrics—are glued to the front, and written in glittery gold pen at the top…

“Get West Soon.” I lift my eyes and brows at her.

“It was a play on well and your name, West. I thought it sounded cute at the time, but…yeah, it’s pretty lame…” She trails off, looking at her feet.

It’s not lame. It is actually kind of cute.

I’m being a dick.

“You made this?” I ask.

Her cheeks turn pink, and she smiles. She has a great smile. It lights up her whole face.

“Yeah. I like to make things. Clothes mainly. But I like to make cards; it’s more personal than buying one, you know.”

I wouldn’t know. I haven’t bought a card in years. It’s not like I can pop out to the shops to get one. Not without a bodyguard at the very least. Alex always buys them for me.

“Is that for me as well?” I gesture to the package she’s still holding in her hands.

“Oh, yeah. It’s…well, it’s just something I made. I thought it might help, but you don’t have to use it. And I’m sorry about the paper. It was all I could get.” She hands it over.

I put the card and envelope down on the sofa and unwrap the package.

Staring down at the unidentifiable black object in my hand, I toss the wrapping paper onto the sofa behind me. “Um…what is it?”

“It’s a sling for groin injuries. I got the design off the Internet. See”—she steps closer and takes it from me—“this part goes around your hips.” She demonstrates against herself. “And, well…this is a little bit different than the usual straps used for groin injuries, but I made a, um…well, a part for your…” She points in the direction of my dick. “And a pouch for your…balls…to support the injured one. And I also put in an inner pouch that has a cooling gel pack in it, which, of course, you can change out.”

I’m staring at her, mouth open.

She made me a cock warmer.

I’m in shock. And kind of turned on right now.

I know. I’m a sick bastard.

“And I made it extra large, you know, just in case,” she says, handing it back to me.

Taking it, I blink a few times and stare down at it.

The waistband part is made of soft elastic, and the cock part is made of a soft, stretchy material, kind of like Lycra.

This woman, whom I’ve known for less than a day, who stabbed me in the ball sack, has made me a cock warmer.

I actually don’t know what to say. For once in my life, I’m speechless.

It’s got to be a joke. Surely.

I blink and press my lips together. “Is this a joke?” I finally ask.

When I see the hurt flicker through her eyes, I know it’s not, and I feel like a gigantic asshole.

“Um, no, it’s not,” she says slowly and carefully. “You know what? Forget it,” she says, making a grab for it.

But I quickly move it out of her reach, suddenly wanting to play.

“No. It was really thoughtful of you.” I’m fighting a smile. Then, laughter snorts out of me.

“God, you’re a jerk.” She frowns.

“I’m sorry, but you made me a cock warmer. What do you expect me to say?”

Her eyes narrow on me. “It’s not a cock warmer. And a thank-you would’ve been nice. I put a lot of thought into that.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” I say drolly. “And, hang on, you stabbed me in the ball sack, and then you made me a cock warmer. What am I supposed to be thankful for? That I still have two balls?”

“It’s not a cock warmer! It’s a sling for groin injuries!” Her hands slam onto her hips.

Hips that I wouldn’t mind grabbing on to while thrusting in and out of her.

I really am a sick fuck.

It terrifies me what actually turns me on.

Turns out, women who make cock warmers do it for me.

“I don’t have a groin injury. I have a hole in my ball sack, thanks to you. And this”—I hold it up—“is a cock warmer. God, you are something else.” I chuckle.

“And you’re an asshole!”

My eyes swing to her just as she claps a hand over her mouth.

“Quite a mouth you have on you there,” I say, feeling suddenly pissed off. I’ve never known someone who could push my buttons as quickly as this chick can. “Maybe you should put something in it to stop you from cursing out like that.” I hold out the cock warmer to her. “Here, put this in there. That should help keep you quiet.”