Page 33 of Sexting His Son's Ex
I scroll, inhaling a sharp breath when I see the picture he sent.
Him: “Look how hard you make me. I’ve been like this all day. You better take care of it later. No matter how many times I stroke myself, it isn’t nearly as good as when we’re doing it together.”
His cock is beyond what I imagined it to be.
It’s long and thick, curling slightly to the right. The head is a deep red, the vein protruding on the side. There’s no way, if we were to ever have sex, would that fit inside me. The tip glistens with precome and his next message is a video.
A video that plays loudly because I forgot my volume was turned all the way up.
His moans echo through the fitting room.
“Oh my god. Stop! Stop it.” I hiss at the device, knowing it’s all my fault. I click the volume down until his groans are for my ears only. Heat pools between my legs and I have to flip my phone over to stop looking at him.
Him: “I’m getting very impatient waiting for you to talk to me. Do I need to track you down?”
Me: “No, I have a surprise for you if you’d be patient and wait, Sir. And you sending videos of yourself isn’t helping. It’s prolonging the process. All I want to do is watch you stroke your cock I so badly want between my lips, inside me, filling me to the point where I can’t breathe.”
I grab the shorter teddy first and slip it on, moving my hair out of the way so it doesn’t get caught in the zipper. The purple hem falls to my upper thigh, leaving my legs bare for my partner to see. The bottom of the teddy reminds me of a flower with how the material waves at the bottom.
The smile that overtakes my face is one I’ve never seen before.
I haven’t felt this good in so long. It’s been ages since I did anything for myself because of work and now I’m realizing that I can’t stop taking care of myself either.
Angling my phone and ignoring his message as it comes through, I take a picture, hiding my hair and my face. He’d know it was me just by seeing a glimpse of it.
I look fucking amazing in this photo. My breasts are pushed up and are supported, the low V cut of the neckline stops at my navel, revealing more skin.
It’s sexy. I’m sexy.
I want to buy five hundred of these!
I send the picture and undress, wanting to try on the emerald-green dress next.
My phone buzzes and it’s a message from Santino.
Him: “I need to know who you are so I can bend you over and fuck you like I deserve wearing that. Wearing only that. Tell me. Now.”
Me: “Good things come to those who wait.”
Him: “You’ll come. I’ll make sure of that.”
My mouth parts on a gasp. “Santino,” I whisper to myself.
The question is, will he still want me when the waiting game is over and the truth comes out?
10
SANTINO
My impatience tolearn the name of the woman I’m speaking to is taking over. This isn’t like me. She’s making me question myself and I don’t like people who do that, usually. This mystery woman has gotten under my skin. The more I talk to her, the more I find myself falling for her.
Me. Falling for a complete stranger.
If I’m being played, I’m going to put a bullet between the eyes of whoever is behind this. No one makes me look like a fool and if it is so easy to set me up, that’s a problem.
But as I stare at the image of her in brand new lingerie, I really don’t care if this is a plan to take me down.
“Sir?” Terrance’s voice ruins my good mood.
