Dirty Work - Regina Kyle Page 0,27
you.”
The words escape my lips before I can stop them. I tell myself it’s because I’m curious. I’ve never been to a penis party before. But that’s horseshit. Truth is I don’t want this date—if that’s what this is—to end. If that means dick decorating for a bunch of bawdy bachelorettes, then I’m willing to swallow my male pride and take one for Team Spend the Day with Ainsley. And if I play my cards right, maybe the night, too.
“You don’t have to do that,” she protests, unhooking her purse from the back of her chair and slinging it over her shoulder.
I signal to our waitress for the check and a doggie bag for my burger. “I know I don’t have to. I want to. Besides, I’m guessing you could use an extra hand. I may only have one working, but it’s all yours.”
I pat my sling and wince. Damn shoulder hurts more than I want to admit. I probably should have taken the doctor up on his offer to prescribe me something stronger than ibuprofen. But I hate the way the hard-core stuff makes me feel. Woozy and wobbly, like I’m in a brain fog. Or a M. Night Shyamalan movie.
Ainsley studies me. She’s way too perceptive. Sees everything. No doubt she’s figured out I’m in pain and is getting ready to send me packing. I’m gearing up for a fight, but she surprises me and gives me a resigned shrug. “Have it your way. You can help. But you’re on light duty. No lifting boxes or climbing ladders.”
I cross my heart and hold up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“You were a Boy Scout?” she asks, her tone suspicious.
“Cub Scout. I only made it to Webelos,” I confess. “But we Webelos take the Scout’s oath very seriously.”
“From what I’ve seen, you take just about everything seriously. But we’re going to change that.” She takes a pair of sunglasses out of her bag and slips them on. “Come on. Let’s go play with some peckers.”
CHAPTER NINE
Ainsley
“WHAT THE HELL is this?”
I look up from the penis wine charms I’m fastening around the stems of eight wine glasses—one for the bride and each of her seven bridesmaids—to see Jake holding a box like it’s about to bite him. I suck in a giggle when I see the picture on it. Two women whacking each other with inflatable dicks strapped around their waists.
“That’s one of the party games. Dueling Dickies.”
He shudders. “Please tell me I don’t have to blow them up.”
“So you’re okay with being serenaded by drag queens, but putting your lips on a plastic penis is where you draw the line?”
“I am not giving a blow job to a four-foot phallus.”
This time I can’t fight the laughter, and it bubbles out. “No worries. If it threatens your precious manhood, I’ll do it. You can fill Willy Whack-It.”
“Willy what?”
“The party pecker piñata.”
I hand him a bag of individually wrapped penis gummies and point him toward the fully stocked bar, where the piñata lies face up, its taunting, cheeky smile on full display. He approaches it cautiously, like it might jump up and attack him if he moves too fast.
“You weren’t kidding when you said the maid of honor is penis obsessed. This thing’s creepy. What kind of dick has a face? It’s looking at me like it wants to stab me in my sleep.”
I put a charm on the last wine glass, open a bag of brightly colored confetti shaped like tiny, adorable, nonmurderous penises, and start scattering them across the dining table.
“Don’t be such a wimp. It’s all in good fun.” I should stop there, but I can’t help baiting him. It’s too easy, and I like getting a rise out of him. In more ways than one. But for now, I’ll settle for the one. “You know what fun is, right?”
He fixes me with those piercing, brandy-brown eyes. “You mean like our shaving session? That was fun. Or how about when you rode my leg like a bucking bronco? I really enjoyed that. And based on your screams and moans, so did you.”
My face goes instantly hot and tingly. My girly parts, too. I decide to ignore it for the time being and focus on the task at hand. We have to get this place decorated before the bride and her entourage show up. Then I can get Jake home, where I can jump his bones. And this time, there’s no stopping until we both get off.
“You got that thing filled