Page 209 of My French Love Affair

I bite my lip, warmth pooling in my stomach as my eyes trail over the photo again.

And what if I don’t want to play anymore?

The dots flicker.

Then tell me what you want instead, mon ange.

My breath catches. My fingers hesitate.

Because the answer is so,soeasy.

You. I wantyou.

I swallow hard, my heart pounding, my body already burning with anticipation as I type out my response.

That’s a dangerous question.

His reply is instant.

You’re not going to answer it?

Honestly, I don’t even know what to say. Do I tell him that I want him, that Ineedhim?

No. I can’t do that.

Instead, I take a slow breath, steadying my hands as I type.

I don’t think you’re ready for my answer.

The dots flicker almost immediately.

I’m ready for something.

Another photo comes through with the message, and I open it, my eyes greedily drinking in the sight of his muscular physique.

The white sheets are very much rumpled, his torso still bare, but now -oh.

Hishand.

His large, strong hand is gripping the hard, thick length of himself. It’s wrapped around his cock, his skin flushed and straining, and heat slams into me as I blink down at it.

I stare at it for goodness knows how long.

My breath catches in my throat, my pulse roaring in my ears as my fingers tighten around my phone.

Then, another message comes through:

This is what thinking about you does to me.

I just about manage to stop myself from letting out a whimper, though I’m barely able to swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat.

Fuckinghell.

I bite my lip, shifting slightly as warmth pools low in my stomach, my skin prickling, my entire body humming. I swear, it’s like I canfeelhim - feel the heat of his stare through the screen, the intensity of his presence even from miles away.

And suddenly, I’m too warm. Too aware.

My breathing is shallow as I type out my response.

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