Page 123 of The New Guy
I’m lying in bed, the windows open to admit the fresh breeze, as I tap out another message to him.
Is it still hot in New York?
Yes it is. Or maybe I’m just hot for you, baby.
Fair enough. How was your workout?
Lonely.
And how’s the hip?
Which one? Never mind—I’ll update you on both. Hold, please.
For a moment I worry that his bursitis is back. But then he sends me a closeup photo of his six-pack and hips, clad only in boxer briefs. His hand is placed casually at the waistband, his thumb hooked into the elastic, like he might peel them off at any moment.
And there’s a prominent bulge on display, too.
Okay, that’s mean. Still have to survive another night without you.
Nah. THIS is mean.
He sends me two more photos—one from either side. This time the underwear is gone, and his cock juts haughtily upward in front of those lickable abs.
Holy heck. Hudson Newgate sent me two dick pics.
My mouth actually waters, and I spend about sixty seconds pondering the ethics of sending my new boyfriend a dick pic from the guest room of a mansion owned by my dead husband’s parents.
But then I realize that Eddie would totally approve. He’d been a big fan of inappropriate texts.
You realize this is war, right?
Kinda counting on it.
I kick off the covers and lock the bedroom door. Then I get naked, and get hard. Not like it’s difficult. All I have to do is look at my boyfriend’s cock and picture myself licking it.
I tap the camera icon, pose my shot, and send back an equally horny photo of me stroking myself.
It’s not that surprising that my phone rings a moment later with a video call. I carefully shut down the private app and answer the call.
The screen is black. “Hey, baby. You’re alone?”
“You bet I am.”
The screen resolves to a closeup shot of Hudson drizzling a little lube onto his cock. And then his broad hand begins to stroke.
Whew. It’s very hot in here all of a sudden.
“Wish this was your mouth,” he growls.
“Give me twenty-four hours, and it can be.” My hand closes around my dick and begins an erotic massage. But then I realize I haven’t bothered to show him the goods. So I turn the phone to show him what he does to me.
Hudson groans. “If I were there, I’d ride you. I’m in the mood to get fucked.”
“Are you, now?” My balls tighten just thinking about it. I’m often the bottom, but once in a while Hudson switches things up. “And people say you don’t know how to have fun.”
He snickers. “They probably do say that.”
“Dead wrong,” I pant. My videography leaves plenty to be desired. The picture is bobbing all over the place. But so is my dick. I’m on some kind of mission to have the world’s fastest orgasm. “This isn’t gonna take long.”
