AllFreeNovel
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It's all pretense. Fake. But it's not as if I know anything else. It's not that I'm full of shit, exactly. More, I don't know what's beyond the facade.
This is the game we play. I'm the bossy Dom, and she's the pliant sub. We slip into our roles because they turn us on. We don't question what they say about us.
I don't—
Maybe she's different. Maybe that's why she left.
My gaze goes to the screen, and my interest in introspection dissolves. Why ask myself why this didn't work when I can hear her groans in my ears instead?
Fucked up, but with blood flowing to my dick, I don't exactly care.
I text back.
Jackson: I only have ten minutes.
Maddie: That's all I need.
She sends another picture with the shirt on the floor, her curvy body spread over the bed.
The phone vibrates with her ringtone. The Amy Winehouse song Cassie set when I told her about the breakup. A joke. Or maybe an honest attempt to connect with me emotionally. It's hard to know with my sister. She lives and breathes music. She has a passion I can only imagine.
I wish I felt that way about something. Anything.
But I don't have her artistic temperament. I'm practical to a fault. This is the only place I break the rules.
The only place I follow my needs.
I answer the call and push the song from my mind. I can't linger on the problems of the day. I need this too.
It's been too long.
I've ignored my body for too long. Martial arts practice satisfies my desire to move, to connect even, but it doesn't fill me here.
This is the only way I know how to care for myself—
Fucked up.
But I'm well intothat only makes it hotter.
"What else are you wearing?" My voice drops to a demanding tone. I should warm up, tease her, but I don't have time. I don't have the patience.
Maddie responds with a picture message of her pelvis. The sheer bottoms match the bra. The nude fabric stretches over her curvy hips, showing everything I want to see. But not enough. I need more. I need everything.
"Take them off." I slip into my role with ease. This is a dance I know. The only dance I know. But I'm fucking good at it.
"Where are you?" Her voice is already breathy and desperate. She's not calling because I stroke her desire. She's calling because she's horny, and I'm here.
But then, I'm not answering because she drives me wild either. I'm answering because this is easy. Because I pick work over sex every time.
Because I'm too busy to find someone else.
Millennial burnout: phone sex edition.
The kind of joke I'd share with Cass, but, hey, now isn't the time to think of family. This ismytime. Only five minutes, ten max, but it's mine.
"I'm in my bedroom." I sit on the bed next to my almost-packed suitcase. She's been here with me. Been naked in my lap, purring, begging me to kiss her, touch her, fuck her.
I want that.
