Page 136 of Can't Text This

“I like that you’re boring,” he says, his attention solely focused on my breast as he pulls the cups of my bra down, my bare chest now on display. “I also like the way you taste.”

He closes his mouth over my nipple and I try my very best not to moan too loudly at the contact. I hold his head close as he works his lips over me, giving the occasional nip that sends a zing straight to my core.

“Why did I have to wear jeans?” I murmur.

“Touch yourself,” he says against me.

“What? I-I can’t do that!”

He lets my nipple slide from his mouth, dragging his teeth over the sensitive bud as he goes. His eyes are glazed over with lust as he stares up at me.

Without breaking contact, he unsnaps my jeans. “Put your hand in your pants.”

“No!”

“Monty, put your hand in your goddamn pants or I will rip these sexy-as-sin jeans from your body, turn you around, and fuck you loud and hard in this goddamn photo booth. We’re bound to make a scene. Your choice.”

Oh my.

His words spur my movements and I do as he instructs, sliding my hand into my jeans. The first contact is bittersweet, my swollen clit so sensitive it almost hurts because it feels so good.

He works his hand between us, his thumb pressing against mine. I let out a low moan when he begins moving us in slow circles.

“Th-That’s nice.”

He gives me a deep, throaty laugh. “I know.”

When he removes his hand from mine, I halt all movements.

“Don’t stop, Monty. Keep going. Take yourself there.”

“I…o-okay.”

I slam my eyes closed as embarrassment washes over me. I’m so terrified to be doing something so intimate in front of him. This is the most naked I’ve ever been while still wearing all my clothes.

Eyes still closed and fingers still on my clit, Robbie begins to shuffle around, and I hear the familiar hiss of a zipper.

The sound of flesh working against flesh fills the small space, the noise of the crowd growing louder outside as the street musician continues rocking out a rhythm.

My fingers play a beat against my own body, matching whatever song it is he’s playing.

Robbie’s warm mouth clamps over my nipple again and I explode.

Bright lights flash behind my eyelids and I swear I’m seeing those fireworks everyone talks about in this very moment.

I slow my movements but don’t completely slide my hand from my pants, still enjoying the last of the zings racing through me too much to quit now. That euphoric floating feeling takes hold and I want to sink into its warmth, stay there forever.

The sound of Robbie still working himself over calls to me and I open my eyes. My gaze automatically drops down, watching as he strains against his own touch.

I can’t take my eyes off his movements. They’re steady and sure and hurried all at once. Watching him touch himself causes that familiar stir to strike again, and I can’t help it when my fingers begin to move over my aching clit.

“Jacket.”

“You are jacking it,” I say back, still watching as he strokes his hard length.

He laughs huskily and gives me his classic prayer before grunting and emptying himself all over the front of me.

I can’t even be mad. It’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

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