The dots bounce.
Lulu:Anyway, thought you should know. You were fun to watch. (Don’t let it go to your head.)
Me:Too late. Already did.
Lulu:Ugh. Regret.
Me:Want me to show you how much?
Her follow-up reply is a video call request. For a second, I stare at it, pulse skittering. Then I swipe.
Her face fills the screen—braid messy, sweatshirt sliding off one shoulder, smile wide. Dusty is sprawled behind her, snoring like a truck.
“Hi,” she says, soft and bright.
I shift against the headboard, trying not to grin like a fool. “Hi.”
We talk. Stupid things, small things. How her students drove her insane. How Chase still chirps mid-shift to start a fight, just because he knows Zoe finds it hot. She laughs, and I’m gone.
Her smile softens, and then her eyes flick sideways, like she’s remembering something. “By the way… Question twenty-six. You didn’t answer properly. Where’s the line between dirty talk and actual filth?”
My pulse kicks, because she knows exactly what she’s doing.
I lean further into the headboard, eyes narrowing on her face in the little screen. “Dirty talk would be me saying I can’t wait to get you under me. That I’ll make you come until you can’t speak.”
Her breath catches, lips parting just slightly.
I let the pause stretch, then drop my voice. “Filthy would be me telling you I’d spread you out on this hotel bed, push your knees to your chest, and fuck you slow until you’re begging me to go harder. Filthy would be saying I’d eat your pussy until you’re shaking, admire your glistening clit, then flip you over and fuck you from behind with your ass in the air, one hand on your throat and the other circling your asshole so you can’t decide if you want to scream or come.”
Her cheeks flame, her braid slipping forward, and the little gasp through the speaker tells me I nailed it. So does my hard on.
I go to open my mouth to tell her as much, but a ping cuts through on her side of the screen. Her eyes flit down, and she winces.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” she says too fast.
“Lulu.”
She sighs, cheeks pink. “Fine. A dating app notification. I forgot to turn it off. Haven’t even opened it in a couple of weeks.”
“Delete it.”
Her brows shoot up. “Excuse me?”
“If we’re doing this—whatever you wanna call it—you’re not dating anyone else. Not while I’m—” I break off, rake a hand through my hair. “Not while we’re doing this.”
Her eyes soften, lips tipping. “Well then,you’renot dating anyone else either.”
There’s no one else, just you. Only you.
A rough laugh tears out of me. “Christ, Parnell. Bossy.”
“Equality,” she says, too damn pleased with herself.
I shake my head, but the heat in my chest won’t fade. This is reckless, insane, dangerous.
But hearing her say she wants only me feels better than any win I’ve ever had.
