I was staring at the box in my handbag like it might burn a hole through the leather. The dildo Roman had sent me that morning felt like a ticking bomb, sitting there between my files and lipstick. Every time I glanced at my bag, my skin prickled, my thighs pressed together, and my mind returned to his damn note: Made to my specifications. Enjoy.

Enjoy.

God, the nerve of that man.

I hadn’t been able to focus all day. Every spreadsheet blurred, every phone call went in one ear and out the ...