I stared at the phone and bit my lips together, knowing what I wanted to say but hesitant about what it might lead to. Yet, a restless feeling inside me threw caution to the wind, and I decided—
Fuck it.
Have you used them with anyone else?I dared to ask.
I haven’t. You?
I once asked Tyler to play. He said they were stupid.
Shame. He missed out on a good time. Only one person I know would get so excited about a heart that said ‘good girl.’ Your reaction to that candy is worth everything.
Heat beat on my cheeks. My teeth gritted together as I tried to stifle the smirk on my lips.What can I say? I like the gratification. One of the reasons I enjoy sucking cock. You all make the best little noises.
Three dots appeared and disappeared again. I bit the inside of my mouth as I awaited his response.
Fucking Styx, Chloe, he said.Warn someone. I just dropped my phone.
I laughed.I’m sure you can afford a new one, I wrote back.
God, I had missed this so much.
I had missed our flirting, our need, our passion.
I missed being the only object of someone’s desire.
Do you know which candy was my favorite?Gavin texted.
Tease me?
Gladly.I’m free now. Are you alone? Would you prefer my tongue or my hands first?
I meant the candy, I replied, though I couldn’t stop beaming like a foolish teenager.
Sure you did.
I wanted to slap his perfectly sculpted face.
That one was fun, but no,he said.My favorite candy was you.
Heat pooled in my gut and spread between my thighs, making me clench my legs as I crossed one over the other.
Flirt, I replied.
Only with you, baby.
I was chewing my lip so hard that I tasted blood. Visions of his face between my thighs filled my mind. Every stroke of his tongue, every command he’d given me—telling me to watch him feast, to beg for him… I remembered it like it was happening right then. My clit began to throb, prompting me to rub my thighs together.
I knew I would be using one of my toys after this conversation.
A photo came through then. A picture of snow, of a city in the background, and a woman standing in underwear, a sweater, and fuzzy socks, her head leaned back toward the sky, tongue sticking out—
Me.
The woman wasme. I didn’t even know he’d taken a photo that night. Yet, there I was, carefree and smiling like I didn’t care if I did or said anything embarrassing, enjoying the freezing cold and not worried about neighbors catching me in my underwear on my balcony. Not caring about what they might say if they witnessed us doing what happened next.
“I have you,” he had said when he held me on that tiny railing.
That small moment, the trust I’d felt with his holding me, with how he listened to my small talk of grief and memory… it had been a turning point in our night. Somehow, in those few minutes, I’d felt more comfortable in his presence than with anyone previously, as if I’d known him a lifetime before.
