Page 81 of Meet Hate Love

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Did you have a good day?

And here I was hoping you were going to ask me what I was wearing.

I was saving that for after the niceties.

Aren’t you at Margot’s?

She went on a date with the Rent-a-Poo guy.

Seconds later, a photo of Blake in what I could only describe as a cat onesie popped up. And like a true man, I found the one sexually appealing thing about that outfit—her erect nipples pointing through the thin, white fabric.

Your tits look good.

You mean bosom.

Bosom is not a sexy word

Oh, you’re wanting this to be dirty?

I haven’t seen you in over forty-eight hours. Yes, I want it to be dirty.

I’m wearing a thong underneath it…

I thought about how great her ass looked, my blood flow shifting.

If I were there, I’d unzipped that onesie, revealing one tit at a time while my hand sank between your warm thighs.

Possibly a minute passed before dots appeared on the screen.

I’m supposed to respond now, right?

Yes.

You would suck on my nipples.

No. Tell me what you would do, Blake.

I would moan when you sucked on my nipples.

I kind of loved that she was so bad at this.

I’d pull your onesie over your hips and let it pool around the floor before I sank to my knees and swept my hand over your damp pussy while I peppered kisses to your stomach.

That’s a run-on sentence.

That has nothing to do with sex…

Okay. Even with your run-on sentence, I would fist your hair and moan while you swept your hand over my damp pussy.

You’re not just supposed to repeat what I say.

When you touched my pussy, I’d say, “Oh, Ohhh, Ahhh.”

?

Laughing, I dropped my head to the headboard.

Was that supposed to be you moaning?

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