Page 210 of My French Love Affair

Well, that’s a compliment.

I’m trying my best to keep it cool, really, I am, but I’m convinced at this point that he can see right through me.

Especially when his next response comes through.

I think I need to make sure you remember who you belong to.

A slow shiver rolls through me, even as I type out a biting message.

You’re so full of yourself.

His reply comes through immediately.

Not as full as I’d have you.

I suck in a sharp breath, my pussy clenching around nothing as my knees weaken.

Somehow, I manage to respond, though the act of typing is becoming more and more difficult.

You really have no shame, do you?

A dangerous heat licks at my spine, my fingers tingling with the urge to do something.

Not when it comes to you.

I should end this. I should put my phone down, walk out of the bathroom, go to sleep like a sane person.

But I don’t.

Instead, I exhale shakily, dragging my fingers over the waistband of my pajama shorts and pulling them down as I send a quick response.

Is that so?

Three dots flicker.

I’d prove it to you, but you’re not here.

I smirk, a little lightheaded, my heart pounding as I lift my phone and snap another photo. I capture a lower angle this time, with one hand grazing the inside of my thigh, tugging one side of my waistband down just enough to tease, but not enough to show.

It’s bold - way too bold, in fact.

Still, I hit send anyway.

His response takes longer this time. A full ten seconds.

Lower.

My stomach tightens, and I hesitate.

Then, I do it.

The next photo is even worse. Or better, depending on how you look at it. The front of me is completely bare for him to see as I pull the shorts halfway down my thighs.

I send it before I can second-guess myself, and his response isinstant.

Touch yourself for me.

I move on pure instinct, my fingers trailing lower, ghosting over my inner thigh and teasing myself with the anticipation of it - ofhim.

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