Page 41 of Sleepover

The kids go back to their classrooms and the parents file out. I stop to chat with several of Madden’s classmates’ parents, so it takes me a while to make my way out to the car. All the while, I’m hyperaware of my phone in my purse. I force myself to drive home, pull into the garage, and shut the door. Then I snatch the phone out of my purse like a starving woman lunging at an all-you-can-eat brunch.

There’s a string of texts from Sawyer.

I’ll behave myself in church.

Unless you don’t want me to. I do have a lot of fantasies involving remote-control vibrators and church pews.

But once we’re out of the church, all bets are off.

Oh, my. On both counts.

I’m going to make you come for the first time before we leave the reception.

I gasp.

Giving in to an impulse that’s now almost an hour old, I slide my hand between my legs and cup myself where I’m damp and swollen. Lifting my hips to rub against my palm is irresistible, and the friction when I do makes me think I could make myself come in under a minute.

Instead, I text Sawyer back.

Not fair.

Right away, he texts back, Oh, good, thought you’d gone dark on me.

No, I just couldn’t sext with the PTO looking over both my shoulders. Plus, I was afraid of leaving a wet spot.

Were you?

The text is accompanied by an eggplant. I’ve never been much for either emojis or vegetables in a sexual context, but I have to admit, my desire to laugh is tempered by a swirl of arousal. I think it’s because the visual reminds me of the way Sawyer fit—or barely fit—inside me.

I squeeze my hand tight between my thighs and wriggle.

Where are you now?

In my car. Still haven’t made it into the house. Where are you?

In my workshop. I’m supposed to be finishing a table, but instead I’m imagining you on it.

Are you?I add a peach emoji, just for good measure.

What are you doing still in the car?

On a whim, I snap a selfie of my hand buried between my thighs.

Oh, Jesus. You trying to kill me?

The return photo is of flat abs, a jeans waistband, and a hand plunged deep behind the fly. My mouth goes dry.

What would it take to get you off?he texts.

Not much.

What if I told you what I’d do to you if I were there?

That would do it.

Put the phone down where you can see the screen.

I obey.

---