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Bailey was grateful digital pictures didn’t wear and tear around the edges, the way physical photographs did. She’d stopped short of making the image of Jonathan her phone wallpaper, but only barely.
A week after he sent it, she admitted it wasn’t enough. Send me another picture. She settled onto the couch for their nightly conversation.
You know what I look like. His reply came seconds later.
But I like the reminder. What are you wearing?
Nothing.
She didn’t know if it was meant to be an off-the-cuff version of nothing special. The image his response summoned was anything but benign. Memory blended with fantasy, teasing her with thoughts of him naked and in her bathroom, pinning her to the wall. Kissing every inch of her. That’s tempting. Send me a picture.
You wicked girl. Are you asking me for a dick pic?
So he wasn’t tossing out casual answers. If she took this further, it would hurt when it was over. She missed his touch. Whether they were screwing or just wrapped up together on the couch, she longed for it. I might be.
Her phone chimed with a new picture. When she pulled up the shot of his nipple, she laughed out loud. The note that followed said, You don’t get the good stuff right off.
Still sexy, she replied.
I want one in return.
Desire raced through her, drawing her senses to life. I didn’t agree to that.
I showed you mine...
Arousal tingled in her nipples, traveled to her belly, and focused in her core. She grasped her courage, stripped off her shirt, and snapped a picture of her bare breasts.
Wow. I got the better end of the deal.
Like what you see? Sending the teasing message was easier than giving attention to the need throbbing between her thighs.
I’ll put it like this. It’s a good thing I’m not wearing anything, because I’m rock hard, and slowly stroking my dick.
At the blunt confession, her skin heated to scorching. Over a picture of me?
Over every single picture you send me with you in it. And remembering what it feels like when you ride me.
What was she supposed to say to that?
What are you wearing? he asked.
Clothes. Wrong answer. She was so flustered, seduction eluded her.
Take them off.
She did as ordered. Though she was in her own living room, she felt exposed. Humidity kissed her skin, and dampness grew between her legs. Now what?
Play with your nipples.
This was a dangerous path to go down. Filled with longing that could never completely be sated. She’d care about that later. All right, she said.
Good. Are you moaning?
She ignored the part of her insisting it was silly to make noises with no one to hear. She wanted to enjoy this, damn it. Yes.
I wish I could hear you. I’m stroking my cock, thinking about you. About laying you on the bed. Kissing down your chest. Dragging my tongue up your slit, and sucking your clit until you scream.
She followed the path of his description with her fingers. It wasn’t easy to text with one hand, but it was better than hearing text-to-speech repeat his messages in a monotone. I’m playing with myself. Imagining you here, doing it for me.
God, I love the sound of that. Finger yourself faster. I want you to come while you’re thinking about me.
She could do that. She let the phone fall away, while she lost herself in the sensations. Her mind superimposed his touch over hers, drawing her into the fantasy of him buried between her legs. Licking her as she squirmed. Jerking his own shaft while he brought her to orgasm.
She whimpered and arched her back as she peaked, fingering her clit until she couldn’t take the touch anymore.
You still there? he asked when she checked the screen again.
It was a good thing she didn’t have to talk. She struggled to catch her breath. Yes. I don’t know if getting myself off has ever been that intense before.
I know the feeling. God, Ale. Even imagining fucking you makes me come hard.
I miss you. The moment she hit Send she questioned the message. She’d taken things from teasing-sexy-playful to... she didn’t know what.
I’m right here.
She smiled at the simple pretense. On the other side of the country. I can’t even hear you groan when you jerk off.
Her phone rang, startling her, and she hit Answer without stopping to think.
“Better?” Jonathan’s voice filled her head and washed over her.
She’d been wrong not to let him call before now. She needed this. “Much better.”
*
FOR HALF AN IRRATIONAL second, Jonathan worried Bailey wouldn’t pick up. He craved the sound of her voice. “It’s still not the same.” He wanted the in in-person contact more, but hearing her was eons beyond reading words on a screen.
“No.” Her light chuckle soothed him. “But it’s a reasonable substitute.”
“You could have come back with me.” He knew better than to say that, but it had nagged him since he left Florida, and he was tired of holding back.
“You know I couldn’t have.”
“I do.” He had a life here; she had one there. “I respect that. There are so many nights I wish I was there with you, watching movies again.”
“You mean falling apart, while we dealt with what happened with Nana?”
He hadn’t stopped dealing. Even the name dug a hole inside. “Maybe not that part.”
“I miss it too, but there’s nothing to do for it.”
He didn’t mean to take the conversation down such a somber path. “Next time, you show me yours first, then you get a dick pic.”
“Jonathan.” Her voice held a tone he didn’t recognize.
Best to tread carefully. “Hmm?”
“If we make this a habit—the sexting I mean—I can’t keep pretending we’re just friends.”
The phrase echoed in his head with insincerity. Not because of the way she said it, but he didn’t buy it. “Is that what we’re doing? I’m pretty sure neither of us believes that.” He did, at first. When he got back to L.A., he told himself friendship with Bailey was enough. He still got to enjoy her company, and they weren’t pulling any punches when they talked.
They were, though. He couldn’t pinpoint when it happened, but somewhere over the last two months, he figured out he wanted more. More of her. Of them.
“What do you call it, then?” Bailey asked.
Jonathan sighed. “I didn’t think I’d get a second chance at this, and I’m not going to let it get away this time. I want us to be a couple, and I’m hoping you feel the same.”
“As in, boyfriend and girlfriend? Long distance lovers? Exclusive?” A happy note slid into her words.
“As in.”
“So I have to stop kissing other guys when I go to the clubs?”
He knew she was joking, but he couldn’t ignore the jealousy that rose inside. “I’d prefer it.”
“There haven’t been any other guys since before you were here.”
“I know. But I still like the assurance.”
She laughed. God, he’d missed that sound. “I’d love to be able to call us an us,” she said. “Not just for the dick pics, either.”
“I adore you.” He grinned like an idiot in his empty condo. It felt amazing. “Does this mean you’ll lift the restriction on us calling each other?”
“I don’t know... I don’t want you to get too spoiled.”
“I already am when I talk to you.” Not quite poetic, but he was more of a numbers guy.
“That’s cheesy. But sweet. Call me tomorrow night?”
“I’m looking forward to it.” More than he had been with anything since he got home. “Night, Ale.”
* * * *
“TELL ME MORE ABOUT the property,” Jonathan said. They were in his office, talking through a proposal he’d looked over.
Aaron was one of their investment partners. Jonathan liked the guy. It was one of the nice things about building the firm the way they did—everyone got along and tended to have similar values and goals. It wouldn’t work otherwise. Aaron had a quirk Jonathan couldn’t seem to correct, though. The guy had a terrible eye for investments. Or rather, he wanted to help everyone, and while he picked projects that looked good on paper, he didn’t have an instinct for those that would run into endless trouble.
One of Aaron’s latest left him with a piece of property in downtown L.A. that he’d rather offload now, to recoup his losses, than have to manage. He was trying to convince Jonathan to take it off his hands. “Huge open floor downstairs. Seventy percent of upstairs is rented. Long-term business tenants. You shouldn’t have any trouble filling the rest.”
“What’s been downstairs?”
Aaron cringed. “It was a gym for one of the companies that’s gone now. Lots of open space.”
“Coffee shop? Café?”
“Not without a lot of cost. There’s plumbing in back for showers, but it all runs along the back of the building.”
Jonathan wasn’t in the market to rent a build-to-suit property. “You’ll make more keeping it.”
“I need the cash now. Red’s got this idea...” Aaron’s younger sister was supposedly some kind of social-engineering genius. Jonathan only knew the basic details, but she was good enough to make Aaron worth billions. The two were eternally trying to recreate the phenomenon.
Jonathan couldn’t turn the property down for the price Aaron wanted. Even if the bottom floor stayed empty, and the rest dropped to fifty percent occupancy, it would pay for itself within the year. In addition, it was in a growing part of town. Jonathan was banking on urban life picking up there, and he wasn’t wrong about these things. He also couldn’t leave a partner stranded. “Seventy-five percent. I manage it, you get the cash, but you keep a share.”
His phone buzzed, and he couldn’t help glancing at the note from Bailey.
I’m heading to L.A. for a week. You’re going to show me the time of my life.
Jonathan smiled and set his phone aside.
“Do you need to be somewhere else?” Aaron asked.
Jonathan shook his head. A new idea was forming, but he needed time to think it through. “Get me the contracts, and we’ll go from there.”
“Done.” Aaron stood and shook his hand. “Thanks, man.”
“No worries.” Jonathan was distracted by ideas of what he’d do with that bottom floor. He hoped it worked.