Page 21 of A Lucky Shot

Oh hey Sexy Dimples :)

Not in town, but if I was, you’d definitely be getting lucky

I’m just getting out of the shower

Sexy Dimples, hey? He liked that. And it sounded like he caught her at a good time, even if she was just saying that. She was probably in an old tee shirt with her hair up in a towel. Bubbles flashed, and a minute later, his jaw dropped at the photo that popped up on his screen.

Oh, fuck yeah. She had a towel, alright, but that was it, and she wasn’t doing much to hide behind it.

Cass sat on her bed, those wide hazel eyes looking into the camera, her skin flushed pink from the heat of the shower. Her hair hung in dripping ringlets, beads of water running over her sloped shoulders to where she held the towel over her tits, each droplet illuminated by the light diffused around her. Gone were the fiery red lips, now replaced with a dark blush that, if he remembered correctly, were the exact same colour as the tips of her breasts. She’d let the towel fall away from the rest of her body, so her soft belly and hip peeked from behind it, but tantalizingly still hidden. He wanted to reach through the photo and rip the towel off her.

If she was sending him a picture like that, she wanted to play.

Have you touched yourself yet?

I’m touching myself right now

Thinking about what you felt like inside me

Can you show me what I’m missing?

Oh hell, she wanted to play. He twitched against his grip, and pulled his cock free from his boxer briefs, already rock hard, and fisted his length.

Wait. Nothing sexy about straight up dick pics, even solicited ones. More subtle. He angled his leg to show the invitation of his open jeans, and what wasn’t obscured by his hand hid in shadow. He fumbled with the phone to snap a picture and fired it off.

Ping. Another photo, her hand trapped between her thighs, a dust of dark hair visible between her fingers. She’d leaned forward, arms pressing those glorious tits together, her beautiful nipples looking like lollipops waiting to be sucked.

Fuck, that woman was nuclear. He hadn’t been stroking himself for five minutes and he was going to come, but not without her. He fumbled for the FaceTime app, cursing when it went to voicemail.

Fine. Texting it was.

He stared at her photo with half-lidded eyes, imagining his lips teasing her rock-hard peaks. He hadn’t gone down on her that night, like a fucking chump. When he saw her again—if he saw her again—he’d have his tongue on her before he said hello.

“Hey Siri,” he groaned out, “text Cass Spectacular Tits.”

I want to know how sweet your pussy tastes

Come for me baby

I’ll tell you when

Will you think of my mouth on you?

Jesus. He slammed his eyes shut and shoved the thought aside, slowing his hand and thinking about mutual assents and the rainforest. Not that tongue down his length, how she’d managed to suck even with him deep in her throat, and the minutes later when he had come all over her and she’d taken his kiss like she was starving.

What would she look like now, reclined on her bed with her legs spread? Did she pump her fingers inside? Rub her clit with one hand and pinch her nipples with the other? Did she have a favourite toy, one that she’d grip with her voluptuous thighs and shake to pieces when she came?

Fuck, he couldn’t hold back much longer. He squeezed the base where his balls were tight against his body and swallowed hard.

Client negotiations. Billable hours. Legal liabilities.

God, thinking about her body was a liability.

I came for you

I think my neighbours heard me scream your name

Show me your fingers. I want to see them wet

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