Page 17 of Thirst Trap
Her breath hitched. Heat pooled instantly low in her stomach.
Only if you’re gonna do something with it, she typed back.
She was already moving.
Bathroom light on. Phone propped against the mirror.
The tank top hit the tiles.
Her reflection stared back: soft curves, stretch marks, thighs pressed tight together like she was about to explode.
Click.
One pic. Then another.
The last one her hand sliding between her legs, hips arching into her own touch, eyes half lidded as her lips parted.
Caption:
Missed you too, daddy.
Sent.
The reply came fast.
@helmetdaddy_xo:
I’m fucking hard. I want your thighs around my face. I want to hear you cry for it. Take another one. Two fingers. Show me.
Her knees buckled. She actually moaned, alone in the bathroom. She obeyed. Phone in one hand. The other slipped inside, slow, deep. Filmed this time. Thirty seconds of filthy, rawneed. Gasps of “daddy” spilling from her lips as she came too fast, too messy.
Send.
Silence.
Then:
@helmetdaddy_xo:
If I came to your apartment right now, would you let me fuck you? No lights. Just your sounds.
Her laugh was shaky, breathless, but wicked. She typed back:
@booklover69:
I’d ride your face until you cried for me again.
The next ding nearly wrecked her.
It wasn’t just a message. It was a picture.
Lucas. Flushed, shirtless, jaw tight. The phone angled down. His fist wrapped around his cock, thick and glistening, absflexed mid orgasm. He was close too close. A masterpiece of ruin.
Message attached:
Look what you fucking do to me. Every time you open your mouth, every time you post, I lose it. Next time I want you on your knees. Tongue out. Throat open. Eyes locked.
Maddison bit her lip hard. Her body hummed like electricity.
