Then she’ll really leave.
She doesn’t need to know.
23
Killian
I open Harlow’s shitty trailer door and slip my lock pick into my pocket. She’s at school. Seems like a good time to pop in.
She’s been weird lately. Too distant. Too fucking professional.
Worse, no makeup. The damn messy bun. I swear, she’s either a sex camel or she’s getting laid elsewhere. There has to be another guy, and I’m gonna find out who.
The most obvious place is her bedroom. I start there, checking her sheets for signs of sex. Maybe dried cum. I don’t know.
Clean.
Her dirty laundry is mostly scrubs and pajamas. No skimpy dresses or lingerie.
I stroke my jawline, musing what the hell a girl might have to suggest she’s having sex. Maybe lube. I open her dresser drawer. Oh, God. The frumpy panties.
I pinch one and hold it up. Smell it.
They smell like her.
My cock twitches, apparently taking this as a signal to wake up. I stuff the pair into my pocket and rummage more. At the bottom of the drawer is the only pair that’s sexy — the ones she wore on her date night.
Good. They weren’t on top. She hasn’t worn them recently.
I smell those too.
Almost perfect if only they were wrapped around her soft body. I miss the heat of her skin...
Yeah, I’m not leaving these. I slip them into my pocket, too.
I prowl to her bathroom next.
The toy rose is there. Maybe it gets her off now. What else... open the under-sink cupboard.
I freeze.
Sink to the floor.
This wasn’t here when I first found her rose toy.
There, set perfectly in the cupboard, is a newly opened bottle of lube beside a toy I’ve only seen on videos. It’s a dildo attached to a mechanical slider. The woman lays down, and the rubber cock slides back and forth, pumping in and out.
She’s getting fucked by a goddamn robot dick.
I grind my molars.
I see her almost every day, and she would rather get screwed by this.
Instead of me.
I mean, I jerk off, but I wouldn’t if she’d put out.
Fuck this. I turn over the toy, open the control panel, and yank on a wire. Flip it on. Flip it off.