The bubbles have slowly faded around me, leaving my breasts fully exposed to the warm air. I lower the camera just enough and snap the photo.
For a moment, I forget to breathe.
The image is all soft curves and sin—my chest bare, nipples peaked, the line of my stomach disappearing into water, and just enough foam still gathered between my thighs to keep it from being too much.
It’s the perfect tease. Just enough to unravel him.
Send
Sir-O’s-alot: Tell me you miss me, because I’m losing it over here. I’m supposed to be grading, and instead I’m just sitting here—hard as hell, staring at my phone like a goddamn teenager.
Sir-O’s-alot: That photo? Stella. That photo rewired my brain.
Sir-O’s-alot: Do you even know what you do to me? No. You don’t. And that’s what makes it worse.
Me:Maybe you should come show me what I do to you.
Sir-O’s-alot:[voice message—his voice is low, rough, just above a whisper, like he’s speaking directly into her ear from 2,000 miles away]
“Stella… you are being so fucking naughty right now. Sending me those pictures knowing there’s nothing I can do about it—knowing I’m stuck here, and you're that far away. All I can think about is sucking those perfect nipples into my mouth. Taking my time with you… kissing down that gorgeous stomach of yours. And then burying my face between your legs, tasting every inch of you until you're trembling and soaking me in every way I’ve been dying for. You have no idea what you're doing to me, baby.” I let out a small gasp and clench my thighs together, my pussy starting to ache with need.
Me: Show me, Donovan.
Me: Show me what I’m doing to you.
Me: Show me how bad you want me.
Sir-O’s-alot:[photo]
I stare at the picture he just sent me.
He’s sitting at his desk, leg crossed like he’s trying to play it cool—but the bulge pressing against his pants ruins the illusion.
His cock is straining, impossible to miss, the fabric doing little to hide just how hard he is.
It’s controlled. Teasing.
And completely filthy in the most beautiful way.
Sir-O’s-alot: Since we’re playing dirty now, my sexy little seductress… Do. Not. Touch. Yourself. Not until I tell you to.
I stare at his text message. This is the sexiest thing ever. My pussy is throbbing and aching for me to reach down between my legs.
I respond with the only thing I can.
Me:Yes, sir.
But that means you don’t get to touch yourself either.
All’s fair in love and foreplay… right?
Donovan
Stella and I spend the next two days sending the naughtiest texts and filthiest pictures we can think of.
No matter the time or place, nothing is off-limits.
She sent me a picture of herself on the kitchen table, followed by a text that said,“Your dinner is served.”
