Page 7 of Charlie

Me, too.

My mom wants me to help with inventory. I would love to see you after.

I can help with inventory, too. It will go faster that way.

You have no idea how happy that makes me. This may be too soon to say this, but I couldn't stop thinking about you this week. I didn't get anything done at work.

I cover my smile with my hand and do a little dance. God, he makes me happy.

Same. : )

What are you doing?

I'm sprawled across my bed.

I just got back from getting absolutely nothing done at the records office.

...because you were thinking about me?

...maybe.

:D

I jump when a video call comes through. Holy shit.

"Hey," he rasps. He's leaning against his headboard, glasses pushed up on top of his head. An open white button-down shirt is the only thing I can see other than the huge, cheesy grin pointed my way.

"Hi."

We stare at each other for a couple of seconds before we both start laughing.

"Why didn't we do this sooner?" he asks, "It's so good to see your face."

"I've missed you." The words slip out.

His face softens. "I wish I was with you right now."

This is unbearable. "What are you wearing?" I ask, giggling – giggling! Oh my God. Mortification heats my cheeks.

He coughs, surprised. "I have to admit, I had high hopes when I called, but I never thought you'd be the one saying those words."

"You have no idea what's been going through my head the last six days. This is tame in comparison."

"Fuck, Charlie." He flips his camera. Black boxers cover his bottom half, his erection straining against them. God.

I lick my lips, imagining running my tongue down his length. He flips the camera back around, his eyes hooded.

"Your turn."

"Hang on." I jump up, strip out of my jeans and t-shirt then lay back on the bed. "Okay, ready now." I flip the camera, angling the phone so most of my body from the neck down was in the frame. I look at him looking at me, and I almost come undone.

He groans, the muscle in his jaw ticking. His hand moves down his body and out of the frame.

"Flip your camera," I order, desperate to see.

He does, then pulls the waistband of his boxers down, his cock springing up. I watch as he grasps it, running a hand from base to tip. I open the front clasp of my bra and palm my breast, pinching my nipple. He moans, his hand keeping a steady rhythm. I slide my hand down my stomach and underneath my underwear, pressing my fingers to either side of my clit. Seeing him fucking his hand is almost too much to handle.

"I need to see your face, Charlie," he says, groaning as he slides his hand down his shaft. I arch against my hand, my breathing unsteady.

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