“Did you dot the I with a buttplug?” “That was Wyatt. He really seems to be into the butt toys. You should probably get a strap on.” My grin is devious when I turn to Wyatt and he shakes his head as I announce, “Oh, we already have one.” “That she has never used!” he insists. “My ass is padlocked, remember?” Wrapping my arms around his waist, I lay my cheek on his chest. “You have the key to my heart. I have the key to your ass. It’s fate.” “Not exactly a Hallmark card poem,” Martha quips. “He proposed with sex toys. You’re in the wrong place if you’re looking for classy,” Noble snorts.
