Page 16 of The Penalty

The Ted-inator: IT HAS SHARP CORNERS!

Is he into dick torture or something? That’s a super hard pass. I don’t need or want ouchies on my precious.

Cuddle Snake: You’re the one who’s fucking jerseys… Don’t worry, I’ll buy you one with my number on it.

“Fuuuuuuck.” I drop my head back to the wall and reach for my dick. Would he fuck me in his jersey and make me come on it? Why is that idea so damn hot?

The Ted-inator: webcamvtradesies.

I’m going to come. Fuck. I thrust my hips up to fuck into my hand. Why isn’t he here, right damn now, to deal with this himself? His hard body and demanding tone are my kryptonite.

I picture myself on my knees, worshiping at the altar of his cock, while he tells me to stroke myself. His hand in my hair, holding my head still while he fucks my throat in slow, deep strokes. Dragging his flesh against my tongue until I’ve memorized every vein and ridge.

My phone buzzes in my hand and I chuck it. Focusing on the scene in my head, I swear I can hear him saying my name.

“Oh fu—nugs—uhh.”

Cum hits my stomach as my toes curl and my ass clenches. My orgasm steals my breath and the last brain cell I had.

“Teddy?”

Rhys?

I’m panting and not sure I’m on earth as I open my eyes and look around. Part of me hopes he’s here, so I’m not hallucinating, but I really don’t want to tell the boys I fucked the enemy.

“Teddy!”

I jerk my head toward my phone, horror chilling me to the bone when I see his name and picture on my phone screen.

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

“No, no, no!” I use one finger to hang up and roll off the bed with a thud onto the floor.

Oh god. He probably thinks I did that intentionally. Like phone sexing or whatever. I can’t ever see him again. It’s official.

My phone buzzes and I shriek, a very manly and not at all undignified sound. Slowly, I lift my body enough to peer over the edge of the mattress at the damn Judas disguised as my phone, but the screen is dark. Must have been a message.

Pulling down the notification center on the screen, I look at the messages.

Cuddle Snake: Is that English?

Cuddle Snake: Should I know what that means?

Cuddle Snake: Are you having a stroke? Blink twice if you’re in danger.

What the fuck did I send him?

With trembling fingers, I open the messages and see the nonsense I sent. Great. Not even I know what that was supposed to say.

Do I text him back?

Ignore it?

Cuddle Snake: Are you always that vocal when you come?

My life is over.

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