Page 122 of Texting, Trouble & Touchdowns
Lucian: I would like to exhaust you . . . well, more like your body, while reminding you about the benefit package. If I were there right now, you wouldn’t be exhausted. You’d be wide awake and very, very busy.
Olivia: I swear, if you turn this into another sextathon . . .
Lucian: Too late. Picture it: I walk in, shirtless, Sarah trots ahead like the queen she is. You roll your eyes, pretending not to look at my abs, but I see it.
Olivia: In this version, do I get to kick you out immediately or do I have to wait a few minutes?
Lucian: You’d try. But the second I back you up against that kitchen counter, tug your shirt up and run my hands under it? You’d forget whatever clever insult you had locked and loaded.
Olivia: Bold of you to assume I wear shirts at home.
Lucian: . . .
Lucian: Are you trying to kill me?
Olivia: Just returning the favor. Fair is fair.
Lucian: You walk around without a shirt? You realize I’d never let you out of my sight if I were there. I’d sit back and watch, arms crossed, like a man who knows he’s about to make a very good day turn into a very long night.
Olivia: You’d be too distracted by Sarah snoring in the corner.
Lucian: Nah, baby. Sarah would be sent to doggy daycare so her parents can have fun.
Olivia: That’s oddly respectful.
Lucian: It’s considerate. I’ll be busy with your tits in my mouth. And when I’ve got you bent over the back of the couch, moaning into my neck, I promise the last thing on your mind will be Sarah’s pick-up time.
Olivia: This escalated.
Lucian: You took your shirt off in my imagination. That’s on you.
Olivia: Technically, you took my shirt off first.
Lucian: Technically, I haven’t even gotten started. Want me to keep going? Or are you already warm under those covers, wishing I was there?
Olivia: . . .What would you do if I said I was?
Lucian: I’d say—don’t move. Slide your hand lower. Let me talk you through it.
Olivia: I’m mildly concerned about your mental state.
Lucian: My mental state is fine. Half paying attention to this boring meeting, while the other half is trying to figure out how to make tonight interesting for you. But only if you’re very, very good for me.
Olivia: Define “good.”
Lucian: Obedient. Naked. Maybe a little breathless while I whisper all the ways I’m going to make dinner the second-most satisfying thing you experience tonight.
Olivia: You mean the food you’re making for dinner.
Lucian: No, I think I’m making your cunt my entrée.
Olivia: I regret texting you. You keep this up and I’m burning the food on purpose.
Lucian: Don’t tease me with a good time. Charred dinner, shirtless moments, and you wearing my shirt? Sounds like the a dream.
Olivia: You’re shameless. And I can’t be shirtless if I have your shirt. Make sense, Lucian.
Lucian: Listen, they should be wrapping up this team meeting in five and heading back to you.
