“I wish I could, but I’ll be on a cruise.”
“Could you hop on a plane at a port of call?”
This is a wild thing to ask, and once I look up from my computer, I realize by the look in her eye she’s half-kidding.
“Relax, I wouldn’t ask that of you, Becca. But will the ship have Wi-Fi? Cell signal?”
I think about this for a second. She has no idea where I’m going, so I might as well lie my ass off.
“Sorry. Nico’s keeping it a surprise, but he did say we’re going somewhere very far away and very remote.”
This is a bald-faced lie. According to the ship’s website, the vessel had unbeatable internet service. But my boss doesn’t need to know that.
“Hmm. Well, I’d appreciate it if you could check in once in a while just to keep abreast of the case. Surely there’s nowhere that your groom could be whisking you off to that’s very far from a town with an internet cafe, at least.”
“I’ll see if he’ll give me any clues, and let you know,” I say nervously, knowing just how well Leela Gamble can sleuth things out and find out I’m lying through my teeth.
She smirks at me. “Okay. You’d better go reply to his text. It seemed…uh…urgent.”
“Oh my god.”
“I didn’t see anything, I promise.”
“Leela!”
“Not on purpose! The sooner you get out of here, the sooner we’ll be done with this day.”
With five minutes left of my lunch break—most of which was spent scarfing down half of a deli sandwich and chips disguised as something healthy with a name that includes the word “Sun” or “Harvest,” I make a mad dash to the parking level underneath GG&G. There, I hop into my car and lock the doors. I glance around, making sure no one has seen me, and then, only then, do I unlock my phone.
Now I can see the whole enchilada.
I don’t know how Nico managed to take that photo on his lunch break. I have a passing thought that this photo might have been taken inside a restroom stall somewhere, and while that’s a little disturbing, that feeling is quickly replaced with warm tingles.
That’s my guy.
The warm feeling is not so much about the seven hard inches, but more about the text message that accompanies those inches.
Nico
All yours.
All mine. This man works so hard for us. At family gatherings, he always finds himself cornered by my nieces and nephews, but never seems to mind. He loves my art so much that he thinks I should apply for the base income program for artists in Songbird Ridge, though he doesn’t really understand how difficult it is to qualify. I haven’t even been to art school.
And then, what’s here in this photo is all mine, too, and it’s delicious. From the root to the rigid shaft to the dark pink tip, complete with a tiny ribbon of precum weeping out.
Want it. Want to lick it right now. And then I want Nico’s mouth on me. I want him to do me so hard with his tongue that I forget everything I’m currently frustrated or worried or stressed about.
I want him to make me forget all about this wedding planning.
Much to my chagrin, my phone rings right as I’m staring at my soon-to-be husband’s penis.
Mama is calling again.
At the same time, I receive a text from one of the paralegals, Angie.
Angie
Where are you? Leela needs you to make client calls.
