Page 155 of The Games We Play
Penny: I can’t stop thinking about your cock.
Penny: Please send me a photo… I’m about to get in the shower before work and I need more than just the memory of the other night.
Penny: I wonder what else we could do on the bar?
My fingers flew across the screen.
Mac: Dirty girl… but I’m busy right now.
Penny: Fine… I’ll just have to use my imagination. And who knows who’ll be there…
My jaw clenched.
Mac: Fuck no. Hold on.
Tucking the phone into my back pocket, I let out a low grunt and pulled my wallet from my jeans.
“Here,” I said, tossing my credit card onto the bar like it was a grenade. “I’ll be right back.”
Aspen and Ellie were still fangirling over god-knows-what, and giving Aspen my credit card might have been a terrible idea—but right now, there were more pressing matters.
I darted down the hallway, slipped into my office, and shut the door behind me. Collapsing into my desk chair, I pulled out my phone and typed fast.
Mac: Prove you’re in the shower.
A moment later, her response landed.
Penny: Is this enough proof?
Penny: [Photo]
The image made my breath hitch. Her breasts were covered in slick, glistening soap, one hand gripping herself while she bit her bottom lip. I could practicallyfeelher through the screen.
I tilted my head, inspecting every detail. God, she was unreal. My cock stirred beneath my jeans, blood rushing fast.
I rubbed myself through the denim.
Mac: I think I still need convincing.
The typing bubbles popped up… then disappeared. My stomach twisted.Shit. Did I go too far?Maybe she just wanted something quick and playful, not?—
Buzz.
A video.
I hit play.
At first, it was just her face. Smiling. Glorious. She dipped her head under the spray of water, then angled the camera to reveal her body, every inch of it slick with suds.
She ran the camera down, her hand following, tracing her curves until she reached between her legs. Her fingers moved with intention—teasing, rubbing, slipping inside. I swore the air left my lungs when she looked back up and whispered:
“How about now?”
“Fuck,” I groaned, tipping my head back, a smile breaking through even as my zipper strained against the pressure.
I undid my jeans and freed myself, already hard and aching. My hand wrapped around the base, slow at first.
Mac: You’re fucking perfect. I want that pussy on my face.
