Page 17 of Texting the CEO's Obsession
Nick: Get back to business, Princess. Are you in the bath yet?
Riley: I am. You were right, it was a good idea.
Nick: I’m always right.
I sigh as I lounge back into my pillows, kicking my blankets down until I can tuck my feet beneath them.
Nick: Keep texting me, I’ll walk you through it.
It takes a bit to get a response, but I soothe my impatience with the knowledge that she dropped everything to do what I told her to. It’s easy to tame the beast that insists onmorewhen I remind myself she’s already mine, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
Riley: Walk me through what?
Nick: Pretend I’m in the bath with you. I bet you look stunning in the candlelight.
If Iwerethere, there’s zero chance I’d behave myself, but I don’t want to overwhelm Riley right out of the starting gate. I can take it slow and truly focus on helping her relax tonight.
Nick: I could rub your shoulders while we soak. I’m sure you’re tense.
Riley: God, that would be perfect. I can’t remember the last time I got a massage.
Yeah, I would certainly not keep things tojusta massage. Not if I had that pretty body naked and pressed flush against me. I’d have her writhing in pleasure as I tease those perfect perky tits of hers before lighting up every nerve in her body. My hand would travel between her thighs to rub circles on her sensitive clit. Every moan that would escape her would pull us both closer to the edge, but I wouldn’t let her tip over right away.
I’d tease her, torment her, and have her begging for a release that only I can grant.
Every part of me wants to say fuck the game and take her now, but this isn’t just about her pleasure. It’s torment for me as well. The day I do get my hands on her again, she won’t be able to walk if she tries to leave.
Nick: I’d make it the best massage you ever got. I’m excellent with my hands.
Apparently, I’m failing at keeping it to just a massage, even over text. All I have is my own imagination, but she’s irresistible. Still, I’m supposed to be helping her relax, not acting like a horny frat boy.
At the very least, I should come up with better lines.
The next response I get isn’t a sentence but rather a picture. It’s tame, as tame as a bath time picture can be, but my cock hardens at the sight of it.
Her toes are painted a pale pink, candlelight painting her pale skin a warm hue. Bubbles cling to the sliver of her leg that peeks above the water. It’s the barest tease, and it makes me want to eat her alive.
Riley: Is that okay? I don’t really know how to do this.
Fuck, ifanythinghas ever been okay, it’s this. I push my boxers down my thighs impatiently, hissing at the drag of them over my cock as I text her back with one hand.
Nick: Do what?
Riley: …sext?
I didn’t think it was possible to get harder, but I throb as I read the single word. It’s so sweet, so shy. I’d kill to hear her ask that out loud or to see how flushed her pretty face is right now.
My grin widens as I spit in my hand and wrap it around my cock, giving myself just enough friction to feel good without really getting me off.
Nick: Oh? Are we sexting, Miss Morgan?
It’s a tease for her as much as it is for me. I just want her to ask for it properly.
Like a good girl.
She types for a long time, seeming to start and then delete and then restart multiple times before a reply finally comes in.
Riley: I thought that’s what you were trying to do, lol. Was I wrong?
