Sam: oh my god threAT*
I grin, sharp, wicked, already imagining her flushed and tipsy and trying to tell the girls she ‘needs a second’.
Me: Threat. Promise. Same thing when I’m the one putting you to bed.
Another pause. Then a message that has me sitting forward like a starving man.
Sam: …what if i dont wnt you to put me to bed tonighttt
Sam: I meen yeah put me in the bed
Sam: buut not to bed bed
Sam: like fkihng me type of putting me.
If she keeps going, I’m driving across the city and throwing her over my damn shoulder and bringing her home.
Me: Then you better get your fun out now, sweetheart.
Me: Because when you get home, I will put you in our bed, with your legs wide open for me.
Sam: ohhhhhh im telling the girls u talk like this to me
Sam: actng all mr respectable ceo in public
Sam: but in my phone u a MENACE
I bite back a laugh.
Me: Always for you.
Me: And only because you like it.
Sam: …maybeeee
Sam: ok yeahi like it
Yeah. No shit.
I drag a hand down my face. She’s drunk. She’s flirty. She’s mine. And she has no idea I’m two seconds from finding her and reminding her exactly what she signed up for when she said, “Soon to be mine.”
My phone vibrates again. This time it’s a picture. And I think I stop breathing when I see it.
She is in front of the bathroom mirror, her dress is hitched up around her waist, covering just enough. Her panties were in her hand like she had just peeled them off for me and needed evidence. Her thighs pressed together like she’s holding back what she really wants.
Sam: i cant walk out there with thsse on
Sam: they are soaked becasee of you
Sam: will you do something about it mr jones???
All of a sudden, she can type perfectly. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. My cock goes hard instantly—painfully, humiliatingly fast.
Me: Samantha. You’re playing with fire.
Sam: maybe i want to burnnn
I drag in a breath so sharp it hurts.
