Leo: Fucking hell. Move those panties to the side and take another picture. I need to see how wet you are.
Mina: What makes you think you deserve it?
Leo: *Photo sent*
Leo: We’re even now.
Mina: And I guess I’m jealous of your hand.
Mina: But let me get this straight: you get a 360 video, and all I get is a picture?
Leo: *Link sent* This camera has same-day shipping. You can have them installed in my house before I even get back.
Mina: I’d rather have you coming in me, than have it go to waste in another towel.
Leo: You’re pleasantly confident over text. I’d like to hear you try to talk this much when my cock isin your mouth. Now, be a good girl and face the camera while pulling your panties to the side.
Leo: Good. Pull out the toy, then slide it back in. I want you to fuck yourself with it and imagine it’s me.
Mina: But it’s not big enough to be.
Leo: Keep this up, and I’m missing tonight’s game to tie you to the bed, and I won’t let you go until I’ve wrung every single orgasm out of you.
Mina: Is that a promise?
Leo: Try me, baby.
Mina: *Video sent*
Mina: Just in case you don’t have a close-up.
Leo: *Video sent*
Leo: We’re even now.
Mina: Win tonight’s game, and I’ll send you another close-up of me fingerfucking myself.
Leo: If you say things like that, I’ll bring home the Cup.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Mina
“Marry him,” Joyce tells me, staring at the kitchen counter.
“At this rate, I just might,” I answer mindlessly as I gawk at the display.
Purple balloons float all around the apartment to match my book cover and the two-tiered cake with the title on it. A big hunting knife is speared through the middle of it, and chocolate bullet casings are sprinkled around.
There’s also a bouquet of various purple and black flowers. The entire thing is probably the same size as me.
I woke up twenty minutes ago, well past the time Leo needs to be at training, and he likely arrived in the early hours of the morning after his game yesterday. I don’t know when he found the time to do all of this and not wake either of us up, but at this point, I’m not even surprised.
What I am, though? Burning up.
My cheeks are bright red. The butterflies in my stomach haven’t stopped swooping since I stepped out of my room. My chest feels both tight and like it’s about to explode. I want to squeal, and twirl my hair, and cry, and squeal again.
“What was your prayer? Tell me it word for word.”
