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I couldn’t stop thinking about you ever since that first time, I type. It’s crazy. You know what I mean; you said you felt the same.
His reply comes fast. I feel the same. I can’t pretend to understand it, though. I’ve never obsessed like this before. I’ve never wanted somebody so, so badly.
My entire body tingles, tempting shimmers dancing up and down my body, making me want to go back to the car, the kissing, but take it further this time.
I guess I’m socially awkward or weird. I don’t know what’s up with me, why I find social stuff so much more difficult than other people. For some reason, I couldn’t just text you saying, “Hey, want to grab a coffee?” So, instead, I panicked. I came up with the red car thing. You said your number was for emergencies, so I figured that fit the bill.
I quickly send the message before I have time to doubt myself. It would be easy to chicken out and make up another lie or try to avoid responsibility.
…
Ah, those dots! I’ll never get used to the way they pop up and then disappear and pop up again, driving my thoughts around and around in a tempting, infuriating cycle.
“Come on,” I whisper, staring as the dots blink in and out of existence. “Stop messing with me.”
Finally, his message appears.
You’re telling the truth now, and that’s what matters. I understand it can be hard to be normal, whatever that means. You saw me at the party. Social stuff isn’t easy for me, either. Anyway, I’m glad you reached out. I almost did so many times.
What stopped you? I ask. Then I quickly send another text. Thank you, Colt. Thank you for not hating me.
I find it difficult to lie still while waiting for his next reply. I won’t ever be able to be that judgmental woman again, watching people as they stare obsessively at their phones.
Tomorrow’s Saturday, his reply reads.
What’s that supposed to mean?
It means, are you working?
No, thank God, I reply.
Why do you say that?
I grab a big handful of the sheet, a crazy thought occurring to me. I should tell him about Ralph, but then what? How would Colt react? He cares so much more than I ever thought he would. It’s not like I don’t know he’s dangerous, but I don’t know what he’s done, who he was in his life before this one. What do I know, then? Just that I want him.
Lexi? The follow-up text lets me know I’m wasting too much time sitting here, thinking, dwelling, obsessing.
You know, just everyday job things, I reply, lying again. I don’t want to make a habit of this, but that’s two lies already.
My point was, if you’re not working, I can pick you up right now. I can’t sleep anyway, and it seems you can’t either.
My body gets that all-over tickling feeling again. Tendrils are whispering up my inner thighs like I’m trying to imagine him into existence against me. The way his fingers would brush higher and higher, closer to my folds, and then maybe he’d stroke them softly, teasing me, before going further, more pressure, more heat.
Don’t worry. I’ll try to calm down some, his text reads. But I can’t lie. Being close to you and staying calm is so damn challenging.
Clicking the media button on the chat menu, I’m able to see his photo, his huge throbbing shaft. I didn’t notice the first time I looked, maybe because I was so intimidated by how big he was, but he’s got a glistening droplet on his tip like he’s so ready for me.
I’m looking at the photo, I tell him.
Just looking?
I move my hand down my body, but I’m unsure if that’s the right way to phrase it. It’s more like my hand flows down, taking a path on its own. My hand trembles as I hold my phone one-handed and text, I’m so tempted…
Tempted to do what?
Touch myself when I look at the photo.
That makes me so hard. The thought of you all tangled in the sheets, playing with your hot, soaked pussy, rubbing your clit as you think of me in bed with you, grinding my dick into your tight little hole, fucking dominating you, Lexi. You see how crazy you make me?
I can hardly read the words, but I do several times. My core is trembling as my hand brushes against my folds, then I move higher, to my clit, reading what he wants. Owning me.
Keep going, I text.
Are you doing it now? Are you going to come for me?
My body is suddenly so hot. I thought it was over, thought the lie could tear everything apart, but now there’s this steam. It’s boiling me alive. I want to burn. I want to melt into him. My hand moves faster, rubbing my clit as I start to shake. It’s the most dramatic and uncontrollable lead-up to an orgasm I’ve ever experienced. I feel like I’m going to explode from texts.
