My dick pokes his head up.
Whoa. Down, boy. Crazy lady who tried to take one of your boys out, remember?
“Well? I haven’t got all day.” I’m being an ass, which isn’t like me. But then again, I’ve never been stabbed in the junk by a chick before.
Anger flashes in her eyes, but it’s quickly gone, and I’m oddly disappointed.
I kind of liked arguing with her earlier even if I was in pain. Arguing with her felt like foreplay.
“Can I come in?” she asks, her voice a little more pronounced than before.
I sigh and then stand aside, letting her in.
As she passes me, I get a whiff of raspberries and vanilla. It makes my head spin.
I shut the door and follow her into the living area.
“Nice place,” she says, her eyes taking in the space.
“It’s okay, I guess. So, what can I do for you?” I ask, folding my arms, leaning my ass against the back of the sofa.
She presses her hands together in front of her. “I came to apologize again, Mr. West. And, also, to thank you for not having me fired. I want you to know I appreciate it. Really, I do. And I shouldn’t have yelled at you; I was totally out of line. And what happened earlier”—she nods south, at my junk—“has never happened before. I swear, I’m a total professional, and I really am good at my job.”
“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.