You started it.
Me:
How did I start it? I was talking about work…
Cole:
You mentioned ass. Brought yours to mind. Couldn’t help it.
Cole:
I have a pick-up basketball game tonight at 7 in the RMC gym. You should come watch. See what these surgeon’s hands can do.
Me:
I’ve already experienced what those hands can do. Intimately. Had my legs shaking, body quaking.
Cole:
And I’ll show you again.
Me:
Mmmmm. I hear you talking. Will you be wearing tiny, revealing shorts and a tight ass shirt?
Cole:
Maybe. You trying to see something?
Me:
Maybe.
You looked so good in your suit today. Couldn’t concentrate on Vincent’s threats when all I could think about was taking it off of you and getting on my knees…
Cole:
Not you reminding me about that mouth in the middle of the day in this family establishment…
Me:
You accused me of starting shit. Had to let you know what happens when I’m actually starting shit.
Cole:
Just thinking about that thing you do with your tongue.
Me:
I do a lot of things with my tongue, Cole. Which thing?
Cole:
All of them. Fuck. I need you bad right now.
I crossed my legs like that would do anything to suppress the thumping at the apex of my thighs. It did not. He was simply too good at getting me to this point with a handful of words.
Me:
