Page 21 of Felix

This whole time, it’s been him. For three months. The guy I’ve been chatting with and, yes, at times flirting with, is a reality far better than any fantasies I had conjured.

I didn’t think that was possible.

And the fact that I get to have him, at least a little? At least within the bounds of these walls? It’s a thrilling, terrifying prospect. Because, as much as I don’t want to admit it to myself, now that I’ve met him, I could like him. I really could. But Lord knows, when it comes to intimacy, I’m more than a little screwed up.

When I get home, I kick off my shoes and head into my bedroom. Christian’s blinds are up, but he’s not in front of the window. My fingers itch to text him, even though I have no idea if he’s home.

I grab my phone before I can chicken out.

Me: Hey.

He appears in the window half a minute later, and I let loose a breath. He smiles, blowing a kiss from the tips of his fingers.

Christian: Hey, Specs.

Me: You free?

He knows what I’m asking. His smile widens, and he takes a seat, plopping his elbow on the windowsill, chin in his palm.

Christian: Watching.

Fuck. I have such a problem.

And yet acknowledging it doesn’t stop me from tugging my shirt over my head. I walk to my nightstand and look inside, contemplating my options. There’s a whoosh in my ears, the kind that drowns out rationality. I pull out a seven-and-a-half inch dildo and climb onto my bed.

My phone dings.

Christian: Are you going to fuck yourself for me?

Yes, that’s the plan.

I kick off my pants and underwear, eyes flicking to the window. My gut bottoms out as I catch Christian’s gaze. It’s the good kind of swooping, like when you’re riding a roller coaster and gravity has you spiraling toward Earth. It’s danger, but a welcome one.

I contemplate for only a second before asking Christian something I never have before.

Me: Can I call you?

He smiles, nodding, but before I can hit his number, my phone rings. I answer, turning it on speakerphone and setting it on the bed.

“This okay?” I check.

“Yeah, Specs. I’ll finally get to hear what you sound like.”

Shit.

I lick my lips, grabbing the lube and wetting the dildo. I lean back with it in hand, spreading my knees, letting Christian see all of me.

This is the one place where I can’t hide.

Notching the toy against my entrance, I exhale. The toy slips in, and Christian makes an aborted sound, as if he’s the one being breached. “Damn, Specs.”

“I’m going to be filming with you,” I say, inching the toy in further. “Talked to Jerome today.”

“Yeah? That’ll be fun.”

“Uh-huh,” I breathe, halfway there now.

“And you’re okay with that?” he asks.

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