Lying between my spread and bound legs, he asks the question, showing me the contents of each hand. 

In one, a witch’s hat bullet vibe; in the other, a pair of wicked-looking pumpkin clamps. 

I know how good that vibe will feel on my clit, already slick and begging for attention. He’ll circle it over and around that swollen nub, then brush the sensitive tip, teasing, controlling, alternating a light touch with just the right amount of pressure, until I’m writhing, begging, building to the climax I crave, I need. 

I deserve this. 

I take a deep breath. 

“Trick.”