A grin spreads across my face, basking in his attention. “Oh yeah? Tell me more.”
In return, I casually unfasten the rest of my shirt with one hand, holding the phone. Then, I pause long enough to lean the phone against my drink glass.
Stef stares, his attention rapt on me in a way I’m well into.
“I’m waiting,” I tell him.
“I… this is a bad idea.”
I lift my eyebrows at him in scorn. “What—you don’t like what you see?”
“No! I mean—yes! Oh God?—”
Laughing, I thrill at his response as he goes a brilliant pink. “For the record, being called a god never gets old.”
Stef runs a hand over his face, struggling to regain his composure. He goes back to staring.
I run a hand from my cheek slowly along my jaw, down my throat, and lightly over my shirt, which falls off a shoulder. I run my fingers along my toned abs. An audible sigh escapes my lips as I imagine the taste of Stefanos hot against my tongue. I shiver.
His gaze is fixed. “Please. Don’t stop.”
I chuckle, low in my throat, and run my hands down along the front of my tuxedo trousers, where my cock presses firmly against the fabric. “Mm…”
Even over the video call, it’s a total turn-on to see him so riveted on me. “Go on,” I encourage, “take your shirt off.”
Stef fumbles with the buttons, hesitating a moment before sliding the shirt off his shoulders onto the sofa where he sits, wriggling out of one short sleeve, then shifting the phone to his other hand to free himself from the other sleeve. I’m rewarded with the sight of his sculpted chest.
“That’s the spirit,” I murmur. “Now. Everything else off.”
“Everything?”
“Yes. Everything.”
Stefanos licks his lips. He’s blushing.
I lift my eyebrows again, looking intently at him. “I’m not a patient man.”
He grins. “I’ve got to put the phone down. Just wait.”
“Put it down somewhere so I can watch. God, I love to watch.”
“Is that right?” Stef asks archly, putting the phone on a side table, leaning it against something as he rises. “And did I say this is a bad idea?”
“You did. Also: you’re wrong. It’s an excellent idea.”
At last, he unfastens his jeans, stepping out of them, then hesitates. He looks incredible in his boxer briefs, and he’ll look even more incredible out of them. I give a nod of encouragement.
“Keep going.”
I’m acutely aware he’s hardening in his underwear, and it’s a fantastic sight. Meanwhile, I rub my cock through my trousers while he gawps at me. I wink. After shaking his head, I’m transfixed by his cotton boxer briefs sliding along his muscled thighs, then disappearing from view as they fall onto the floor.
His erection is magnificent. I take in the sight of him: the pink head of his cock, the way he gazes at me, his lips parted ever so slightly.
“Touch yourself,” I command.
“And you?”
“I might join in. If I like what I see.” I give him a meaningful glance, and his blush deepens. Shifting back in my sofa, I part my thighs further to show off the strain of my erection as some inspiration.
