Weslyn…
Fuck, I'm hard. But it's not the first time I've been hard while talking to her on the phone. Sometimes, it's out of fucking nowhere too and she could be just . . . talking. Butthis, this is something else.It's bold.
I'm wearing a black thong to match.
You cannot say things like that to me…
I thought you said slow.
I watch the three little dots bounce up and down and when a response comes in, I don't know how to answer.
You asked what I was wearing. Am Isupposed to lie to you?
I text, then delete. Then I lock my phone. I want to respect what she has asked for. And I know that I can't do that if I'm thinking about her fucking nightie and her matching thong.
But I pick my phone back up and think of something to say. I could just saygoodnightand see if that stops the conversation. Not that I want to, but I have to.
My phone buzzes in my hand.
I need you, Kyran.
My dick aches in my sweats and I have to force myself not to do anything about it. But she's making it really fucking hard right now.
Say that again.
I watch as the text indicator bounces up and down.
I really need you.
I throw my head into my pillow with a groan before typing out a response to her.
Fuck. Weslyn, you have to be careful with what you say to me.
She doesn't text back so I set my phone down so that I don't end up crossing the line either. A line I really fucking want to cross but she was the one who asked me to go slow. But a few minutes pass when I hear a knock at my door. I sit up and let my eyes adjust to the dark even though I’ve been awake this whole time. I hear little footsteps pad away and I realize, it has to be Weslyn.
I get up and walk over to the door and open, catching her walking away.
“Wes?” I call out to her and she stops before turning to look at me.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just…” she trails off and I can see the apprehension on her face.
“Do you want to come in?” I decide to ask her and it doesn’t take her much time to nod her head before stepping forward.
“I’m sorry to be like this,” she says and I have to stop myself from placing my hand on her to guide her into the room, seeing as she is wearing exactly what she had described and even though it’s dark, I can see the outline of her body as she moves into my room.
“To be like what, Weslyn?” I ask, curious as to what she means.
“I don’t know, I guess,” she starts before turning to look at me. I decide to walk over to my nightstand and flip the table lamp on so at least we can see each other while we talk.
She follows my direction with her body but stays put a few feet in front of the door.
“I think my mind is spinning one-hundred thoughts per minute and I started to overthink things,” she admits, and I have to hide my grin.
“You do that a lot, don’t you?” I’ve already made the observation and I’ve been able to help her manage her way out of it without her even knowing, but hearing her admit that she’s been doing it has me feeling like she’s ready to be honest about me with her feelings.
“I do. And I don’t even really know why? I know I tend to ramble when I’m nervous or when something causes me to be anxious but I never have much to over think otherwise, andI…”
She lets her words trail off when she finally looks up at me and sees that I am fully entertained by her.
