Page 40 of The Best Man Problem
I’d slowly work my way down your body, peeling those sexy panties off you so I could place my mouth on the heaven between your legs and taste your sweetness again.
A moan left her lips as she slipped her hand into her panties, stroking herself, wishing it was Lincoln there instead of her own hand.
Are you touching yourself, sweetheart?
One hand tending to her business, she texted with a single thumb. A bit awkward, but she managed.
Yes.
Good. The dots reappeared for a moment before more words came through. Imagine it’s me, touching you, pleasing you, filling you.
She didn’t have to imagine. She remembered. In vivid detail. He might think she’d forgotten or shrugged off that night, but it was always there in the back of her mind, screaming at her for more. More Lincoln.
Touch yourself, Lincoln, she typed out. Pretend it’s me wrapped around your cock.
With pleasure.
She continued to stroke herself, imagining it was Lincoln quickening her breath, raising her heartbeat. Another line of text appeared.
Damn, sweetheart, you set me off even when I can’t see or hear you. Just the thought of you, the memory has me close to exploding.
Fair enough. She was so close to the edge right now, all she had to do was imagine his sexy smile and she’d be done. Quickening her strokes, she texted back.
Do it. Come with me, Lincoln.
Yes, Lilly.
With those simple two words, an affirmation and her name, Lilly cried out, her body tightening with her release, pleasure exploding from deep within as she lay in bed alone but not truly alone. The words of the man she couldn’t get out of her mind flying from his small screen to hers. A part of him with her, though they were halfway across the city.
I have a confession, she texted. I’ve never sexted before.
She waited, a small amount of embarrassment now filling her at the brazenness of the act. His reply sent a whoosh of relief through her.
Neither have I, but I gotta say, it was hot as hell. You’re hot as hell.
She laughed, deciding not to worry about what had just happened. It was just phone sex. Not even that, really. Text sex. That didn’t break her rule. Everything was fine.
Thank you. Right back at you.
He sent her a winking emoji followed by the heart-eyes face. With a shake of her head, she decided to send the exact same combo back.
Good night, Lincoln.
Good night, Lilly.
Placing her phone on the nightstand, she settled against her pillow, sleep coming easy now that her body was sated. Tomorrow she might see deeper consequences to what occurred tonight, but for now she was going to slip off to sleep and enjoy the sweet dreams of a man who made her laugh, smile, and lose herself with nothing but a few typed words.
Chapter Twelve
The sharp ring of her cell phone woke Lilly from one of the best night’s sleeps she’d had in weeks. In fact, the last time she’d slept this soundly was the first night she and Lincoln had sex.
We didn’t have sex. We sexted. Big difference.
In person or through typed message, it didn’t seem to matter. Apparently, just imagining making love to the man had her feeling more rested than a full eight hours ever did.
No. Not making love. Having sex. Big difference, Lilly Walsh.
And she’d do well to remember it. Childish notions of true love and soulmates were best left to people who believe in that crap. Like Mo.
