The Package

She knocked on the door and prayed to the goddess of single-girl sex toys that her neighbor hadn't opened the box. In an ill-thought-out attempt to avoid humiliation, Monroe rang the bell and knocked again—desperate times called for desperate measures.

Ding dong…ding dong…ding dong

She knocked and thought of all the things that could have happened. What if Simon wasn't home? Did someone steal her package off his porch? She didn't want her vibrator in the hands of some porch pirate. She didn't want it in anyone's hands…well, that wasn't entirely true. She wanted it in her hands while she rode it like a witch's broom.

She raised her hand to knock again when the door swung open with a loud bang.

"Someone better be fucking dead or on fire!"

Standing in the doorway and currently dripping water on the front porch with a towel tied around his waist, looking like something that belonged in one of those horny lady Netflix specials, was not her neighbor. Fuck her life in every universe. It was his very hot and very pissed-off brother, Logan. The same brother she almost ran over, pulling out of the driveway last week. And the one that caused enough dirty thoughts, after he threatened to pull her out of the car and spank her, that she wore out her last toy.

Monroe was so far down the neurotic dirty rabbit hole, she forgot why she had come over here in the first place.

"Did you need something,...