He’s gorgeous.

No, scratch that. He’s just plain fucking hot.

He’s got hooded, smoky fuck-me eyes that a woman like me could get lost in—and I’m pretty fucking handy with a map. His chest is so sculpted, it looks like it was modeled after a Greek statue in the Louvre—or maybe the statues were modeled after him.

His dark hair is so thick, I can imagine myself running my fingers through it in ecstasy just by looking at it.

His abs…My hand is practically trembling as I raise my fingertips up to them. They make washboards look bad. I just wanna drop to my knees where I stand, and let my tongue roam up and down those sexy chiseled hills until I forget my own name.

“Go ahead,” he says. “You can touch, if you like.”

Let’s get one thing straight here, babe. Momma likes. Momma wants to touch this man all over until every inch of him is covered in my fingerprints.

But then I look up at him and see the way he’s smirking down at me with that shit-eating grin. And that? That just pisses Momma off.

“Don’t fucking flatter yourself,” I say, narrowing my eyes and pulling my hand away.

Seriously—who the fuck does this guy think he is?

“Come on, you know you fucking want to.”

He stands with that smirk still on his face.

“What I really want is to send you back where you came from.”

I grab my laptop off the table and sit down on my leather couch. I pull up MailOrder.com on the screen.

“You don’t really fucking want to do that now.”

He struts over to where I sit and plops himself down next to me.

“Get your naked ass off my couch!”

“Make me, sweetheart.”

He sounds like a tough guy from one of those bad-ass movies.

“I don’t have to make you,” I tell him. “You’re canceled. Full stop. I don’t know what kind of woman you think I am, but—”

“Oh, I know exactly what kind of woman you are.” He leans in close to me, and for a moment I’m caught up in rapture by the smell of his skin and the closeness of his lips. “You’re the kind who orders hot men on the internet and then chickens the fuck out when it comes time to put them to use.”

Which, okay. Fair.

But that doesn’t change my mind.

I pick up my laptop and move away from him. I can only hope he gets off my couch.

He follows me to the kitchen. I put my laptop on the counter, and he shuts it.

“You look fucking sexy in that nightie. Let me show you why you shouldn’t return me.”

He stands like he’s some kind of god and smiles that shit-eating grin at me again.

“No, you’re not going to show me anything. I’m returning you as soon as I figure out how to do it.”

I open my laptop back up.

He shuts it again. “Why don’t you give me a chance to show you what a good fuck I am? I’m already naked, so all I need to do is get that nightie off you. That shouldn’t be too hard.”

“That’s not going to happen, so you can forget it.” I try to look at MailOrder.com again. “You’re not staying here another minute.”

“That’s not the way to talk to this gorgeous hunk of meat.”

He moves his body so his cock with the pink bow wiggles around, and his grin at me gets even bigger.

I couldn’t look at him anymore. I keep my eyes on the computer screen.

“Oh, I get it now. You’re nervous seeing my huge cock like this, aren’t you?”

His eyes watch me. I can see that out of the corner of my eye.

“I bet you’ve never seen one this big, have you?”

He’s still wiggling around.

“No,” I say.

“No, what?”

He tries to look at the screen with me.

“No, I’m not nervous.” I scroll down the page on the screen. “And no, I haven’t seen a cock quite as big as yours. You’re fucking proud of it, aren’t you?”

“You can’t even fucking look at me. I make you that nervous.” He moves closer to me. “Yes, I am fucking proud of it. Girls love all twelve inches of my cock. I bet you would, too.”

“Could you give me some room here?” I ask focusing on the screen.

I can’t find MailOrder.com’s return policy on their website.

“There’s no fucking way I’m moving. Not until you tell me why you ordered me in the first place.”

“I can’t do anything with you standing so close to me,” I say.

I still won’t look at him even though I know he’s staring at me. He doesn’t budge from the spot where he stands next to me.

“Fine, have it your way.” I look at him. “Look, I was drunk. I was being horny and slutty and stupid. I thought MailOrder.com was a scam, okay?”

“It’s not a fucking scam. I’m in your apartment, aren’t I?”

He does that godlike pose again.

“Besides, you’re not my type at all,” I say.

I want him to leave. I want him out of my apartment right now.

“So, what is your type?” he asks. He’s not leaving anytime soon.

“Definitely not you,” I say…even though that’s not entirely true.

“But you picked me out of all those other fucking guys on the website. Why would you do that?” he asks.

“I didn’t pick you out.”

“Yes, you fucking did. You can’t deny it. And I won’t let you.”

He stands right in front of me.

“You’re right. I can’t deny it. I did order you.”

I look at his hooded, smoky fuck-me eyes and that thick dark hair. How can I deny what I did? Those eyes and that hair grabbed my attention the moment I saw his photo on MailOrder.com.

We stare into each other’s eyes.

“How about you unwrap me?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off me.

“Unwrap you?” I ask without breaking eye contact.

“The bow on my huge fucking cock. Take it off.”

He smiles that shit-eating grin at me again. He glances down at his cock and back at me.

I look down and see the pink bow tied around the middle of his cock. I pull the end of the bow and untie it. The ribbon falls to the floor.

I look back up at him. He moves even closer to me until the space between us doesn’t exist. His cock rubs against the outside of my nightie.

He grabs the back of my head, pulling me so our lips touch. He thrusts his tongue inside my mouth and kisses me like no other man has before.