Page 54 of The Best Bad Decision

My tongue remembers the way that tattoo tastes.

I stifle a moan, my hand reaching of its own accord to palm my stiffening cock through my sweatpants. Even her back is the most beautiful fucking thing. She replaces the sweatshirt with a button-down pyjama shirt, soft pink stripes covering her skin, and I’m so fucking hard already. And then she slips her thumbs in the waistband of her leggings to push them down over her hips to reveal the tiny taco tattoo at the base, and I can’t stifle it anymore. The moan leaves my lips unbidden and she turns back to me.

My phone is in my hand, close to my face, and I’m breathing heavily, trying to maintain control but failing. I’m hard and I ache; I’m far beyond any semblance of control. I grip myself through my pants and stroke clumsily. She must see the movement, because her mouth falls open and her lips form a small O.

The same fucking shape they made when they wrapped around my cock, painting it with pretty pink gloss.

Unashamed—or maybe just too desperate to care—I shove my hand inside my waistband. Flesh on flesh is about the greatest relief I couldask for right now, short of pushing inside her hot, wet cunt and fucking her until we both come.

“Cam,” she says softly.

“Fucking sexy as hell, Amie,” I whisper through heavy breaths. “Do you have any fucking idea?”

Even through the video call, I see her hazel eyes darken, a soft pink blush rising up her throat to her face. Her throat bobs as she swallows hard, eyes moving across the screen to take everything in.

“Are you fucking your hand while you watch me change?”

I swallow hard. Blink. Nod. I look down at my cock, rock hard in my fist and straining beneath the gray material of my sweatpants. Iamfucking my hand. I do it often when I think of her. I lift my hips and tug my pants down. There’s no stopping now. No sense in denying what’s inevitable. With or without Amie on the screen, I’m going to come tonight with her face in my mind and her name on my lips.

“Show me.” She demands, and I moan loud and long, dropping my hand to hold my camera closer to my cock. It’s thick and red, standing to attention in my hand, remembering every inch of her skin—inside and out.

“Fuck,” she whispers, biting her lip, andfuckif that tiny action doesn’t make me even harder. She breathes heavily too; the rise and fall of her chest and shoulders giving away what her impassive face does not.

“Does it make you wet to know how hard you make me, Amie?”

“Yes,” she whispers. “So fucking wet.”

“Show me.” I repeat her words. I don’t know if I can handle it but I want to see. I’m desperate to see her wet and needy for me. I’m desperateto touch her, taste her, sink all the way inside her and fuck her like she’s mine, but she’s two and a half thousand miles away.

And I’m alone, but for my hand and that beautiful fucking angel on FaceTime, who climbs onto a hotel room bed and spreads her legs, placing her tablet between them as she reaches down and circles her clit with her middle finger, before pushing two fingers inside herself and letting loose the most erotic whimper I think I’ve ever heard.

Holy mother of fucking Christ.

“Are you imagining my fingers, pretty girl?” I ask. I’m taunting myself watching her, knowing I can’t touch. I’m desperate for release, but I slow my pace and loosen my grip, determined to hold off until I see Amie come undone for me.

“No,” she moans. “I’m imagining your cock.”

I moan, too.Fuck, I’m imagining her sweet pussy around my cock, too. The way she stretched around me in Singapore with the most delicious friction. Her hands gripping my shoulders, digging in hard with her fingertips. Her thighs around my hips, ankles locked behind my back, driving me deeper. The way she tipped her head back and screamed my name when she fell apart for me. I can’t help myself. I’m leaking, and I use the moisture to lubricate myself as I grip tighter, stroke myself harder. It’s getting harder to maintain a steady rhythm. Watching Amie touch herself and whimpering my name has me losing my fucking mind.

“Fuck, yes, baby, that’s my good girl,” I tell her as she pushes her fingers deeper, lifting her hips and opening her knees wider. She’s soaked, thighs glistening, arousal dripping down her wrist already, and I swallow hard, remembering how she felt on my face in Singapore, desperate for another taste. My mouth waters at the memory.

“Can you feel me, pretty girl? Can you feel my lips on your skin?” She exhales shakily, writhing and stretching her neck like she’s waiting for me to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down the line of her throat.

“Touch your nipples for me. That’s what I’d do. I’d have my cock inside you and I’d be playing with those perfect tits the way that drives you wild. I’d suck on those pretty pink nipples until it makes you scream.”

She lifts a hand to do just that, a low whine leaving her lips. She presses her shoulders and feet hard into the mattress as she thrusts her hips into her own hand. She’s so close already, I can tell; she’s barely holding on.

“Can you feel me, beautiful? I’m so hard for you, baby, squeezed inside your tight, greedy pussy.” I gasp out the words breathlessly. Just the sight of her has me ready to blow. It’s been four years of just me and my hand, and this is the closest I’ve been to an actual woman. One who’s fucking herself and imagining it’s me. One I can’t get out of my fucking mind. One I’m absolutely head-over-ass for. “Fuck, you take me so well, Amie,fuck, you’re so hot and wet. I can’t hold on, baby, I need to come.Fuck.Come with me, baby.”

“You feel so good,” she moans, one hand on her tits and the other pressed into her centre, fingers pushing deep and thumb circling her clit. “You fuck me so well, baby.”

I’m so close now, every muscle fibre stiffens and every nerve ending blazes with the heat of a thousand suns. When I watch her push a third finger inside herself, crying out as her hips rock upwards, my legs begin to buzz, a strange sensation of no longer belonging to my body. It spreads through my hips and spine and down my arms as I watchAmie ride her own hand, hips bucking wildly, and a low, keening wail escaping her open mouth.

When she falls off her knife-edge and yells my name as she comes, I can’t hold on any longer. The world fades to grey. I give my cock one more jerk and I come in hot, white spurts all over my stomach, stars behind my eyes and Amie’s name on my lips.

The only sound is our heavy breathing for the next few minutes. And then her eyes flash to the lens again. Surprise, guilt, regret.Fuck.

“I’m so tired, Cam,” she whispers thickly. “I miss Maisy so much, and I’m just so fucking tired.”

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