Her question feels like permission.
Me
You really want me to go there?
Harper
Just curious…
Me
I’d kiss you slowly, gently and tenderly like I have nowhere else to be because I have ten years of tasting you to make up for.
Harper
I think I’d like that very much. What else?
My hand slides lower, deliberate. I’m aching to touch myself but I know once I do, there’s no going back.
Me
I’d make you feel wanted, Harper. Cherished. Pleasured. I’d grip your body and take my time teasing you with my tongue, just enough to make you squirm. To try your patience…
Harper
Don’t tease me, H.
Me
Teasing you is the best part, babe. Playing with your body, watching how much your body reacts to my touch. To my tongue. To my words.
Harper
H…
Me
Fuck, I can’t tell you how many times over the years I’ve gotten myself off to memories of you underneath me.
Harper
Tell me more.
I’m staring at the screen, my heart racing as Harper’s last message sinks in. My pulse thrums through my cock like a live wire, and I can’t shake the images she’s ignited in my mind. It’s been so long since we’ve explored this side of our relationship, and the thought of her—of all that I want to do to her—makes me feel alive in a way that’s fucking intoxicating.
Me
You want me to tease you? That’s what you’re looking for?
Her reply shows up almost instantly.
Harper
Maybe. Depends. How good are you at it?
I lean back against the headboard, grinning, my palm sliding over my thickened cock. This is the kind of banter I’ve missed, the playful intimacy that makes everything feel lighter despite the weight of the past. I know I should probably take it easy, but hell, where’s the fun in that?
Me
