Liar.
Before I could respond, another message landed:
Are you wet, Brie?
I nearly dropped the phone. I’d never had a man ask me that, not so directly. My thighs pressed together of their own accord, the heat starting to build. I hesitated, then typed:
Maybe.
His answer was instant, hungry:
Go to your drawer. I know you have a toy.
I stared at the screen, jaw slack. How did he…?
His next message came before I could even blush:
Don’t play innocent. You came on the phone for me last night, didn’t you?
I squeezed my eyes shut, mortified and wildly turned on. My hand slid under the pillow, found the small pink vibrator I’d shoved there last night after my shame bath. I thumbed the power on just to feel the vibration in my palm.
I thumbed back:
You’re an animal.
He didn't deny it:
You love it.
Tell me exactly what you’re doing.
I exhaled, slow, the room suddenly too warm. My fingers found the hem of my shorts, slipped inside, and my body jerked at the touch. My skin felt fever-hot; my nipples hardened under the thin cotton bralette.
I let the toy hover over my clit, the vibration just enough to make my knees buckle inward. My head went fuzzy. I typed, one-handed:
It’s on low. I’m teasing myself. Is that what you want to hear?
He replied:
No, I want you to do it right. Push those shorts down. Open your legs for me. Pretend I’m there, watching you.
I did. God help me, I did. The sheets were soft under my thighs, the air cold against my flushed skin. The vibrator pressed against me, and I nearly bucked off the bed.
I whimpered just once, then went with text dictation:
I’m spread wide. It feels good. Are you hard for me, Finn?
His answer:
I’m always hard for you, Maverick. Keep going.
I set the phone on my nightstand and circled the toy over my clit, a slow, aching rhythm that made my breath hitch every time. I pinched a nipple through the bralette, rolling it until the nerves sparked.
I wanted to tell him everything, so I did.
I’m dripping. I’m sure the sheet is wet. I wish it were your tongue.
His reply:
