The trip back down to the parking garage is uneventful as always, and since my pet is in a weird mood this morning, I opt to open the damn thing on the table in the breakroom. I’ve been waiting for this package to arrive. The custom-dipped speakers are going to go great with my—
“What the fuck?” I hiss when I fold back the tabs of the box.
I should’ve clamped my mouth shut instead of reacting the way I did because I’ve drawn the attention of every guy in the room, which somehow now includes my boss. Finnegan Jenkins, BBS’s mechanical engineer, moves toward me first, but I don’t have the wherewithal to close the box and carry it to a more private location.
“Is it a fucking bomb?” the Irish warlock asks, but instead of being in fear for his life, he hangs his head over the box, and his cackling laughter echoes around the room, drawing even more attention.
I’m starting to agree with my grandmother on his evilness.
“What?” Brooks Morgan, the covert ops guy of the group asks as he inches closer.
I can honestly say I’m more confused than I’ve ever been. Flipping the tab of the box over, I stare down at the address on the label.
I haven’t ordered anything from Amazon, and I sure haven’t ordered this shit.
“I just picked this up from the front desk of my apartment,” I say, needing to explain.
“The suspense is fucking killing me,” Flynn, BBS’s second in command, says as he also approaches. “Holy shit! I knew you were into some weird shit, but this is eye-opening.”
And as much as I could deny it right now, he’s right. I didn’t order a single thing in this box, but I do have experience with nearly everything I’m seeing. Thousands and thousands of hours spent online can lead you to some really weird places, forcing you to discover things about yourself you never could’ve imagined.
“This isn’t mine,” I explain as Flynn grabs the box and turns the thing over.
Every guy in the room watches as a waterfall of sex toys falls to the table in front of us.
“Wow,” Deacon mutters, but instead of getting angry like I’d expect due to his shitty attitude lately, a smile spreads across his face. “Might as well be a bomb. If you can handle that, call me impressed.”
Heat warms my cheeks as I reach for the item Brooks picked up.
“Dios mio,” Ignacio, our language expert, hisses with a chuckle. “That thing is huge!”
“Twelve inches,” Flynn says, holding the giant dildo to the side to read the label, “and ribbed for her pleasure.”
“The things you learn about people even after all the years of working together,” Gaige tsk-tsks. He’s our acquisitions guy, but I’d put money on the fact that he’s never had to acquire a twelve-inch rubber cock before.
“I didn’t order this shit!” I snap, giving up on ever getting the fake dick away from Flynn.
I take a step back from the table, running my hands over my head and regretting ever showing up today. It’s Sunday for fuck’s sake. I should be playing video games in my underwear, waiting for food to be delivered to my damn door, not dealing with this shit.
“Like hell,” Brooks chuckles as he holds up the box, reading the label much like I did just moments ago. “It says right here that it was delivered to W. Nelson. Apartment number 913.”
“I’m in apartment 1213, dick.” I snatch the box from his hands, examining the label because after seeing the name and realizing it matched mine, I didn’t bother to examine it further. “They gave me the wrong box.”
I feel a small sense of victory because even as awkward as this situation is, I really want those speakers.
“Are you sure?” Ignacio moves the other items around on the table, spreading them out so everyone can see. “I’m sure you can find uses for this ball gag.”
“Use it on the fucking bird,” Deacon mutters, hinting that his irritation is still right under the surface.
“Or this feather tickler,” Ignacio continues.
Yep, I’ve opened Pandora’s box, but instead of dark magic, I’ll be suffering in my own sort of hell because these guys are never going to let me live down the day I came in with a huge box of sex toys.
“I’ve used that lube before, but the cherry flavored is better,” Brooks adds.
“If you need lube—” Gaige begins, but Brooks throws a butt plug at him, pegging him in the chest.
“Don’t judge me. This is about Wren.”
Only it’s not, I want to argue, but at this point slinking away would probably be better.
Without a word, I leave them—and the box of toys—in the break room, heading to my office. I’ll be able to get to the bottom of this in no time. I know clearing my name won’t stop the jabs, but hopefully it’ll give them something else to focus on.