Page 48 of Texting, Trouble & Touchdowns
Lucian: No? Then why did you stop breathing when I leaned in? Why did your lips part as if you were waiting for me to taste you?
Olivia: None of that happened.
Lucian: Is this some kind of amnesia? Selective memory again, I see.
Olivia: You are the only one with selective . . . hearing, reading, I don’t even know what it is. Me? I have no recollection of any almost kisses.
Lucian: Oh, baby, I remember everything about us. The way your pulse raced when I brushed your hair back. The way you looked up at me, wide-eyed, like you weren’t sure whether to push me away or pull me closer.
Olivia: I was startled. We were in a very dangerous terrain and I almost fell.
Lucian: Lies. All lies.
Olivia: :ghost: emoji
Lucian: Don’t ghost me. I’ll stop for now, but one day you’ll be begging—begging for my lips, my tongue . . . my hands.
Olivia: I will never do such a thing.
Lucian: You’re in denial, but I know that one of these days, you’re gonna stop walking away from me and finally let yourself fall.
Olivia: Not happening.
Lucian: Mmhmm. Keep telling yourself that. But when you’re lying in my guest bed, wrapped up in my sheets, tell me—will you be touching yourself, thinking about how it would feel if I had actually kissed you?
Olivia: I won’t be thinking about you at all.
Lucian: I bet you’ll slide your hand beneath the covers, close your eyes, and picture it. My mouth on yours. My tongue sweeping inside, teasing, claiming. My hands pushing under your shirt, palming your tits, rolling your nipples between my fingers until you arch for me.
Olivia: You’re unbelievable.
Lucian: And you’re wet, aren’t you?
Olivia: I will NOT dignify that with an answer.
Lucian: You don’t have to. I know. Just like I know, if I were there right now, I’d have you spread out on that bed, legs shaking while I take my time tasting every inch of that pretty little pussy.
Olivia: I plan to ignore your nonsense.
Lucian: You’d try to be quiet, wouldn’t you? Fisting the sheets, biting your lip. But I’d ruin that real quick. I’d grip your thighs, hold you open, make you watch while I lick you slow and deep, savoring every fucking drop.
Olivia: I need you to get over yourself.
Lucian: Nah, you need my mouth on you. My fingers inside you. My cock stretching you open while I whisper in your ear how fucking perfect you feel around me.
Olivia: I need to make better life choices.
Lucian: Maybe. Or maybe you just need to admit what you really want.
Olivia: I want peace. Silence. A new phone number.
Lucian: Liar.
Olivia: Go to hell.
Lucian: I’d rather go to your bedroom. What time should I expect you, sweetheart?
Olivia: This won’t happen until next week and I’ll probably be searching for another place to stay.
