Heat Page 10

I stare at the dark television for ten minutes. This solves nothing. I check the sliding glass door that leads to my very small patio. It has a broken broomstick in the bottom rail so it can only slide open after removing it. The locking mechanism, which I check too, is a piece of crap. I head to the front door and lock it. I walk to my bedroom to go through my pre-sleep ritual. After a quick shower, I slip into one of my large shapeless tees. Brushing, flossing and moisturizer are next.

  I lie down in bed and turn off the lamp. When I close my eyes, I picture Moon—his reticent smile, his intense eyes, and his sexy as hell bod. My girl parts are ramped up and it’s all Moon’s fault. With a groan, I roll over and grab the purple wonder from the drawer beside my bed. I hit the switch and then lift and spread my knees. I place the vibration against my clit. The purple wonder twirls and vibrates, hitting the spot perfectly. I slide it through my folds and back to my clit while imagining Moon doing this to me. I’m getting close and that delicious tingle centers between my thighs. The purple wonder slows. “No,” I groan. Then the damn thing dies. “Son of a bitch,” I yell in frustrated anguish. This seriously cannot be happening.

  I hate Moon. Hell, I hate all men.

  I hit the vibrator against the palm of my hand to try to shake the batteries into giving a bit more juice. Fuck, the damn thing is dead. I consider shooting it. “Okay, relax,” I say out loud. I place the vibrator back down against my swollen lips and think about Moon again. I’m wetter than shit, and a few smooth glides later—nothing. I’ve lost it and I was so close. I huff out a frustrated breath and then a groan.

  I roll out of bed and head into the kitchen to search the junk drawer for batteries, muttering the entire time. “Fuck Moon. Fuck my vibrator, and fuck my life.” I pull half of the contents of the drawer out and can’t find a single fucking battery. I stomp to my desk and scrounge through each drawer. I find one triple A, but I need double A’s. I peer around the room in desperation and spy the two remote controls. The black plastic has a lip that says Press above it. I press. I slide. I break a damn fingernail before the back slides off. It’s the controller for the DVD player and of course, my bad luck holds because it has triple A’s. In a tantrum, I throw it against the wall. If the damn thing would have bounced close enough, I’d have stomped on it.

  I eye the satellite remote. It’s my last hope. I pick it up and the back slides off easily. I strike gold, though it contains only two batteries. I’m a battery short, but this should work for one uncomfortably delayed O.

  I insert the two semi-new batteries with one old. I lift my leg to the couch and bury all six inches of purple pleasure where I need it most before turning it on. I don’t fuck around this time. I imagine it’s Moon shoving his cock inside me while his fingers work my clit. I think about the fathomless pit of his eyes and the smile that stretches the scar on his lower lip. It takes two minutes before an orgasm washes over me. I stand with my leg hiked up feeling absolutely no shame that I was too frustrated to return to my bedroom.

  My orgasm high cools down fast. Too fast. I’m hot and sweaty again, but too tired to take another shower. I am so pissed off at Moon. No man should bring you to losing your mind over dead batteries. I storm back into my bedroom and place Mr. Purple on the nightstand as I slide between the covers. He proceeds to roll to the floor, and I don’t even care. I fall asleep after a quick mental note to buy more batteries.