Page 42 of Run For Me
“Are you close?” I ask. I will not last much longer.
“Yes,” she breathes.
“Me too, little dove. I’m stroking my dick so fucking fast thinking about your tight pussy wrapped around me. I’m going to come in you, you know that? I want every last drop deep inside that little pussy of yours so you can think about me after, when it’s dripping out of you. I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel it for days. You won’t be able to get me out of your pretty little head. How does that sound?”
“So, so good,” she moans.
“Fuck, I’m going to come,” I rasp.
She whimpers again, and it trails off into a moan, long and low. “Oh… oh my god, I’m coming!” she says into the phone the second the first rope of cum hits my stomach. Her moans are like music to my ears, pulling every last drop from my balls.
The only sound to be heard for the next few minutes is us catching our breath. I swear I can even hear her heart thundering to the same beat as mine.
“I’m glad you called,” she whispers.
“You didn’t ask how I got your number.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just remember I have yours now too.” I huff out a laugh. “Good night, JT.”
“Night, LD. Sweet dreams.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sailor
I wake up to a text from JT, not a message in Surge. It’s another picture, this one of him standing in front of a tall mirror, allowing me to see his whole body. Every tanned, muscled inch… Well, except his face and the small bits his black boxer briefs are covering. They’re so tight they leave nothing to the imagination.
On his head is a motorcycle helmet, a plain black one that covers his entire head and face. I can’t even see the color of his hair or his jaw line.
His body is… jeeze, he’s so hot.
His abs are defined, shoulders broad, arms cut and forearms thick, covered in tattoos. There’s dark hair on his chest, trailing down his belly button, disappearing beneath the fabric of his briefs, and I can imagine how dark his hair is around… there. His waist is lean, legs thick. The guy is too hot for words. It’s surreal. He looks fake.
Would I recognize him if I saw him on campus?
I huff out a laugh. Yeah, maybe if he walked around like this, practically naked. I’d recognize his body, there’s no doubt inmy mind. But covered in clothing? I smile wide. I’ll never know who he is. Not without seeing his face. It’s fall and only growing colder. He’ll be wearing layers of clothing, hiding that delicious body beneath them all. Maybe during the spring and summer, I could recognize his tattoos, but so many people have them nowadays that unless I get a closeup of them, I may not.
Do all the girls in school stare at him? Do they know what’s beneath his clothing?
There’s a text with the photo that says “For my contact. Since you have my number and all.”
I smirk, an idea popping into my head.
One of my favorite things to do when working with a new client is researching. I love looking at all types of digital artwork to pull ideas from and form my own. Recently, one of the clients I was working with wanted a sexy woman for her book cover, and that lead me down a rabbit hole of boudoir shoots. There was a position I saw women sitting in over and over again. One that shouldn’t be too difficult to replicate by myself.
I kick around the clothes on the floor, moving them out of the way so it doesn’t look like a complete disaster in here. Then I get naked and sit on the floor, thankful for the carpet and not having to sit on cold wood. I cross my ankles and bend my knees, fidgeting with the camera and the way my legs rest so it covers my intimate parts, but still shows enough that it’ll be a nice tease.
I don’t hate my body, not when it’s just me. I know it’s decent, I just don’t like showing it off to everyone. Or to anyone, really.
I take so many photos, trying every angle to get the best shot. It takes me another ten minutes just to go through them and decide which I want to send, and before I can think too much of it, I send it to him with the exact message he sent me. And I get a response back almost immediately.
JT:Are you trying to kill me?
Me:I was just being fair…
JT:Well, this isn’t fair at all. You don’t have to walk around with a hard-on like I do.
Me:Maybe you should do something about that.
