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She grins at the camera. “You going to play along?”

I can’t help but roll my eyes and grin back, flipping the camera just enough so she can see the exact effect she’s having on me, using the blanket to hide the tattoo on my pelvis so it doesn't start another fight.

Her smile widens.

“Happy?” I ask dryly.

“Very,” she says, biting her lip again.

I lower my voice. “Show me something pretty.”

Her breath catches just slightly. “Bossy tonight,” she murmurs.

“Behave.”

She shifts on her bed, fumbling with her phone for a second as she adjusts her clothing. The camera wobbles before steadying again, this time on her fully naked body. She slides a well manicured hand down from her throat, between her breasts, her navel, before finally resting her fingers between her thighs.

“Show me,” I murmur, my own hand shoving my boxers down to grip my erection.

I hear her already panting as she watches me.

“Now, Ronnie,” I say quietly.

She exhales my name softly, adjusting the camera once more, so I have a complete view of her fingers toying with her clit. She’s already soaked, the skin between her thighs glistening in the low light of her bedroom.

“Fuck.” I mutter under my breath, pumping myself harder.

Her own fingers pick up speed, and I vaguely register her whimpering moans as I chase a release.

“Simon, I want to see you cum.” She whimpers, performing for me.

I grip myself tighter, leaning my head back and closing my eyes.

Her breathing picks up as she gets close to making herself finish.

“That’s it baby. Cum for me.” I mutter out, the words instinctive at this point.

She groans out my name and a second later I’m gritting my jaw, biting back a curse and finishing into my fist and across my stomach.

Veronica giggles softly on the other end of the call, still catching her breath.

I drag a hand down my face and glance down at myself, exhaling through my nose. “Well,” I mutter dryly, reaching for the box of tissues on my nightstand. “That’s inconvenient.”

She laughs again, setting her own phone down to clean herself up. “You’re welcome.”

I shake my head, grabbing a handful of tissue from the box and wiping up the mess.

“You’re trouble,” I tell her.

“And yet,” she says smugly, “you answered the call.”

“Regretting that slightly.” I tease.

She gasps theatrically. “Liar.”

I toss the used tissue into the trash and lean back against the headboard again, calmer now. The tension is gone, replaced by that loose, slightly dazed feeling that always follows.

She watches me for a second, now redressed. “Better?”