Clare: You really wanna feast on my pussy?
Elliott: Oh, only for a couple decades or so. The idea of you using toys for so long is fucking criminal, Clare. I want to take care of you.
He wasn’t lying. His fingers ached to tug on her nipples while his tongue circled her clit. Food forgotten, he moved to the side of the bed and stripped before sliding between the sheets.
Elliott: Where are you?
Clare: Pass.
He grinned.
Elliott: No passing. Where are you, Clare?
Clare: Would you believe me if I told you I was on the couch with what’s left of my chicken parm?
Elliott: Not when I’m lying in my bed with my rock hard cock in my hand, no. I wouldn’t.
She didn’t reply for a long minute, and the sinking feeling in his stomach suggested he’d fucked up, that he’d misread her desire, or overplayed his hand. Shit. Was he going to lose her all over again because he was a horny fucker?
His grip on his shaft loosened as the dots informing him she was typing moved on the screen. His chest stayed tight until a picture of her in black lace underwear appeared. He swallowed hard. She was fucking magnificent.
Elliott: I know lace underwear is expensive AF. But if I promise to buy you a new pair can I rip those panties off you? Please and thank you.
Clare: You really like it?
Elliott: You can’t be serious right now.
Elliott: It’s not the underwear I like, Ceecee.
A bead of precum seeped from his slit and slipped down the head of his cock.
Elliott: If it wasn’t ungentlemanly, I’d show you just how hard my cock is for you right now, Clare Reynolds.
Her hand covered her stomach in the picture. As though she was self-conscious, or ashamed of her tummy.
Elliott: What are you trying to hide with that arm across your middle?
Clare: My body and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms right now. Even taking that picture is a big deal for me, never mind actually sending it. I almost didn’t.
So that had been what the pregnant pause was all about, not her indecision with him, but with herself. Her vulnerability soaked through the screen and shot into his chest. What he wouldn’t give to pull her against his chest and tell her a million times that she’d always been the most beautiful girl in the world to him.
He’d contemplated asking her for a video call, but knowing how in her head she was about her body, he didn’t want to make her feel any more uncomfortable than she already did.
Elliott: I’m glad you did. I don’t know how you’re so clueless about your beauty, but you are breathtaking.
Elliott: And for the record… I don’t just mean breathtaking with clean and shiny hair, red lips, and sexy black lace underwear. You’re breathtaking, period. With your messy top knot, fuck the patriarchy tees, and your crazy patterned yoga pants.
Clare: Making me cry, Eli. And for a good reason this time.
Ow. The shards of guilt and regret lodged in his heart sank a little deeper.
Elliott: Total MILF. Better?
Clare: LOL!!
Clare: My arm is attempting to hide my C-section scar from Mason. I love the kid but goddammit if he wasn’t a chunky, stubborn baby. Emergency C-section at damn near 49 weeks.
Clare: Okay, it wasn’t 49 weeks, not even close but I can tell you, it sure as shit felt like it was.
