Page 39 of Fumbling for Perfection

ME: Bruises?

There. I kept it simple. I didn’t flirt. I didn’t tell him how much I miss him and that I go to bed every night thinking about him. Or how I can still taste his kisses. Or how I can’t look at the table in my office without thinking about him between my legs. His mouth. His fingers. His delicious cock.

OH GOD: Your heels dug a little deep. I liked that you marked me.

I gasp and fan myself with my hand. This man burns me up inside and out. We were quick and rough in my office, and I liked it too. He didn’t mark me last week, but he did last month. I don’t know how anyone could have the amount of sex we had, in all the positions, with all the thrusting, and not leave the hotel room unmarked.

I was thankful it was cold out and I had a reason to wear hoodies all the time. My hips, thighs, and breasts had faint bruises where he had loved me. Marked me. Never hurt me.

How the hell do I respond to his text? I can’t lead him on, but I can’t be standoffish either. I’m not a bitch. I’m no good at this. Kendall is the queen of brushing off men, but if I tell her about these messages, she’ll only encourage me to sext Walker and send naked selfies.

I decide to be honest.

ME: I’m not sure how to respond to that.

OH GOD: You can say, “You’re welcome.”

ME: You’re welcome.

I hit send and reread my message. Short and to the point, but read with the wrong tone, it could sound bitchy. I curl my bottom lip between my teeth and tap out another response.

ME: I’m sorry as well. That the bruises are gone.

There. Polite. Not leading him on. Not sexual but not bitchy. Maybe a tad funny.

OH GOD:Does that mean you plan on marking me again? Because I’m okay with that.

Now I’m in trouble. But we’re three thousand miles apart. There’s nothing wrong with a little text flirting. I won’t do it often. Just tonight. Then I’ll politely ghost him. If that’s possible. I’ll figure out a way.

I miss him too much and am a little tipsy, so I ignore my voice of reason and play along.

ME: Where would you like me to mark you?

Shit. Did I really just hit send?

OH GOD: Anywhere.

OH GOD: Everywhere.

OH GOD: Yes.

OH GOD: Does that make me sound desperate?

ME: Not at all. It makes me feel desirable.

OH GOD: Sweetheart. You’ve witnessed first hand how fucking desirable I think you are. Don’t ever doubt yourself.

ME: I liked being marked by you too.

OH GOD: Can you hear me groan right now? If I wasn’t afraid of scaring you off, I’d tell you how hard I am right now.

ME: I’m not scared.

OH GOD: Are you wet?

I bite my lower lip.

ME: Drenched.

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