Page 8 of Dial B for Billionaire

Building something real. Owning every decision. Not needing anyone else's approval.

her:

Mmm. A man who knows what he wants. Are you always this decisive?

me:

In business? Yes. In bed? I like to take my time.

There's a long pause.

The seconds tick by. My heart rate increases, a response I usually associate with high-stakes negotiations, not text messages.

Then. A buzz.

her:

I'd like to be appreciated like that. Thoroughly. How about you tell me what you’re wearing right now?

My brows lift. Heat pools in my stomach.

me:

Still in the same clothes. Just got home. Living room.

her:

Alone?

me:

Yes.

her:

Describe it to me. I want to picture it.

me:

how about I show it to you?

her:

You mean... a picture?

I hesitate. This kind of openness is foreign territory, but the thought of it sends a thrillthrough me.

In this moment, there are no rules, no safeguards. Only discovery. Only risk. I’m not used to wanting like this, not used to making leaps without knowing where I’ll land. It feels reckless. It feels refreshing. It feels fucking good.

me:

Exactly.

No reply. Just the typing bubbles.

me:

You said you like bold.

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