Page 39 of The Best Man Problem
I don’t have to love him to have sex with him again.
An interesting thought. One she shouldn’t be entertaining but was. Blame it on the lateness of the evening, the loneliness she’d been feeling recently, or the memory of how exquisite he made her feel in bed. She could blame it on the full moon—that wouldn’t occur for another week—but in the end, it was only a thought. One she knew she couldn’t act on while he was a member of one of her wedding parties.
So why was she picking up her phone as she lay in bed? Bringing up their text exchange as the darkness of the night surrounded her? Sending him a text well after midnight when any normal person would be sleeping soundly?
You get home safe?
There. She was simply checking on him. Making sure he and the others got home safe. She waited, the glow of the tiny screen illuminating nothing but her hand in the dark room.
Home safe and sound with my stereo at full blast.
What an odd tidbit to include. Had they brought the party home to Lincoln’s place? She really shouldn’t ask. He’d made it home safe. That’s all she texted to say. But…
Still partying?
No. I live below Kenneth and Marie, and let’s just say the happy couple is very happy and very loud.
She laughed. Poor Lincoln. She, Mo, and Pru made a pact that all nookie would be held at the other party’s house or when roommates were not around.
Poor you. Can I do anything to distract you?
You can tell me what you’re wearing.
She hesitated, working through a checklist in her mind. She couldn’t get involved with Lincoln, not while he was technically part of her clientele. But then again, she had gotten involved with him. On the other hand, she hadn’t known he was the best man of her current wedding, so no one could fault her, and Marie seemed more than okay with her and Lincoln being together…ugh! Her head was hurting trying to sort all this out.
Bottom line, she couldn’t be physically involved with him while facilitating this wedding. But technically, there was no physicality in what they were currently doing. A few words on a screen wasn’t physical. Heck, it wasn’t even vocal. It was simply…words.
I’m kidding, Lilly.
She bit her lip, mind made up as she hurried to text him back before he turned off his phone and went to bed.
A nightshirt and panties.
There was a pause before those three tiny dots appeared, followed by the words, What color panties?
She laughed. Such a guy. She quickly typed back.
Black boy shorts. What are you wearing?
Don’t you remember? I sleep in the buff.
She did remember that, but she hadn’t realized it was an everyday occurrence for him. Another text from Lincoln appeared.
I wish I was there with you.
She licked her lips, boldness rising with each word she typed out.
What would you do?
First I’d kiss you until you couldn’t breathe.
She was having a hard time with that already.
Then I’d slowly strip your nightshirt off and work my way down to your amazing breasts. Giving each one the worship it deserves with my mouth.
Her nipples tightened, memories of Lincoln doing just that during their night together filling her mind. She remembered how soft his mouth was, the sharp sting of the tiny love bites he gave, the heavy ache that settled between her legs. It was there now, just from a few words and a memory.
Another line of text appeared.
