Page 6 of Basket Case

“Good.”

I can smell your arousal.

I folded my arms. “You don’t have a nose.”

I do not usually have a cock either. Samhain is full of surprises.

My face grew hot.

A thin piece of wicker lifted from his rim and reached towards me. I stepped back before it could touch my hand.

It stopped.

May I?

“May you what?”

Touch you.

“No.”

The strand withdrew at once and tucked itself into the side of the basket. No argument. No attempt to persuade me.

I was almost disappointed. I hadn't expected it to actually follow my commands, not after everything.

That should have been the end of it. I could have gone to bed, locked the pantry door and dealt with Gran in the morning, apologising to her for the drunken phone call. Instead, I stood in the kitchen staring at the basket.

“What did Gran mean when she said you’d bring me joy?”

What do you think she meant?

“Knowing Gran, possibly a lifetime supply of potatoes. Or a lucky dart.”

The cock flexed again. I pressed my legs together. The longer I stared at it, the more aroused I became. I'd looked at plenty of sex toys and none had ever made me feel like that. I preferred the real deal, the man attached to the cock. But here, it was attached to a basket. I rubbed the back of my neck. This was all a bit too much. And my mind kept replaying the sound he'd made when I'd picked him up.

“If I touch you, do you feel it?”

Yes. Every strand belongs to me. Every weave, every braid.

I looked at the thick shape rising from the basket. “Even that?”

Especially that.

This was stupid. I knew it was stupid while I reached out.

My fingers brushed the tip. His groan made my knees weak.

I snatched my hand back. The wicker had been warm and completely smooth. No rough edges. No splinters. Just a texture that I knew would feel amazing inside me, just like that dragon dildo I'd won in a monster smut competition a year ago. It was hidden at the bottom of my underwear drawer where nobody would ever find it.

The thick wicker shaft bent towards me, following my retreating hand.

“Stay," I commanded.

It stopped. Interesting.

“Move to the left.”

It moved to the left.