Page 64 of Burn the Script

You’re lying in bed, checking emails. Your hair has dried since the shower. It’s soft. Even without gel, it shines in the lamplight.

My gaze darts to each corner of the room, searching for hidden cameras. I wouldn’t put anything past him at this point.

Me

Congratulations. You can recite a years-long routine from memory.

Graham

I slide between the sheets and lie next to you, naked. But you ignore me and keep scrolling.

My finger circles your belly button, tickling you and turning you on at the same time.

Me

Are you doing voice to text???

This conversation could be monitored!

Graham

I tease your waistband. You push my hand away, but you don’t mean it.

You want me to keep going.

You like being my sweet prince.

Me

I’m hanging up now.

Graham

You sink lower against the pillow and spread your legs. I kiss your stomach and wrap my hand around the hard, hot surprise waiting for me.

So needy.

So perfect.

So delicious on my tongue.

Jesus, I’m panting. I squeeze my dick, commanding it to ignore the vivid memories. When he’d spend weeks away on set, we had phone sex almost every night, always on video call because he likes to watch. I never thought sexting could turn me on or that my imagination could fill in the blanks. But I can see him, smell him, feel him as though he’s lying next to me, touching me like he used to.

Graham

Are you hard for me, Miguel?

Me

No. I’m half asleep.

Graham

Such a shame. Guess I’ll have to finish alone.

My phone slips from my hand, landing in the gap between my parted thighs. I scrub my face, then glare at the erection tenting my pants like it committed the ultimate act of betrayal. Clenching my fists, I summon every ounce of strength I can muster. My dick and I will not succumb to his seduction. I’m stronger than this, regardless of how many times I’ve jacked off while picturing his face over the past year.

The phone buzzes again. I snatch it up.