Page 62 of Boyfriend
Abbi laughs again. “The things I could do with that mixer.”
“My mixer is your mixer, baby. What do you want to mix?”
“I found a recipe in my mother’s cookbook for this weird cake she used to make for me. I haven’t had it in years…” Her smile fades, and she looks a little wistful.
“Seriously, if you want to putter in my kitchen, you can do that anytime. But come over Sunday either way, okay?” Because I miss you. I don’t say that part out loud. “We’ll be watching tonight’s Bruins game,” I say instead. “We made a pact on the plane to save it until after we get back.”
She blinks. “So I shouldn’t tell you they’re losing four to zip?”
“Wait, really?” I gasp. “Four to nothing?”
Her smile blooms naughtily. “You’re so gullible, Westie. I really have no idea if the Bruins are playing tonight or not.”
“Abbi!” I laugh, and try not to drop my phone in the tub. “You’re so mean. Maybe you should show me some more tit as a punishment. Two minutes for unsportsmanlike conduct.”
“You want penalty tits?” she asks with a giggle.
“Oh, definitely.”
She reaches up… and buttons the PJs closed instead.
I let out a little moan of frustration.
“Let’s wait,” she says. “Until you can see them in real life. I’m not comfortable flashing you over hotel Wi-Fi.”
“Ah, fine. Fine.” I suppose she’s being smart about that, even if I’m crushed. “Just so you know, I’m not as smart as you are. And I’m not shy. So…” I lift the phone and change the angle. First I reveal my abs, which I’m tightening for the occasion. The six-pack is looking pretty buff onscreen, if I do say so myself.
Abbi makes a small sound of pleasure.
So I keep going. I angle the phone even further, until she can see my erect cock poking mostly out of the bathwater. “Look who says hello.”
“Well, hi there,” she breathes, her lips parted. “Now I really do wish we were at the same hotel.”
“Yeah, well.” I reach down and give myself a slow stroke, and Abbi makes another noise of approval. “You like that? Or am I just being creepy right now?”
She smiles. “You’re not creepy, Weston. Everything you do is sexy. Every. Thing.”
A warmth hits me that has nothing to do with bathwater. “You know I think the same thing about you, right? Everything you do is sexy.”
“No need to exaggerate.”
“Oh, I’m not.” I give myself another slow stroke, because it feels so good. “If you were here, you’d be in this tub with me. I’d insist.”
“Mmm,” she sighs. “If only.”
My voice goes low and rough just thinking about it. “We’ll put that on our bucket list. Things to do together before we run out of time together.”
“I’m in,” she whispers. “Keep, uh, going. If you want to.”
“You want me to?” My voice is pure gravel. “Put on a show for you?”
“Yes. Does that make me a hypocrite?”
“No,” I insist. “We all have our comfort levels. Mine is set on slutty.”
She laughs. On the screen, she seems to sink a little further back into the pillows. Then she licks her lips. “I admire that. Mine is stuck on cautious.”
“You’ve had to be,” I remind her. But my mind is only half present in this conversation. “Hang on. I need to make a few adjustments.”
