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Colton: I’m not hiding. Some people have jobs, you know.
Me: Oh, I know. I seemed to have gotten a firsthand look at your “work” last night.
I send a winking face after, hoping it comes off as flirty. He’s running from what happened, and a part of me doesn't blame him, but the other part, the slutty part, wants everything with him.
Colton: Sutton. Stop.
Me: What?
I'm being glaringly obtuse, but I can't help the warm feelings I get when he gets this riled up.
Colton: Sutton, please. This needs to stop. Nothing can happen.
Me: You didn't mind it while I was fucking myself with your cock, and you had your tongue on my pussy.
I know I fucked up when I watch him read the text and then ignore me. I also know I fucked up when I sit on my bed for over an hour staring at my phone, getting the same lack of response. I miss the banter we had before we knew who we were in real life. I miss the sexy, dirty-talking man who slid into my messages every night and asked for pictures, telling me I was all he could think about before he went to bed. I want that again, and I had it for a split second last night while in his office. It felt natural for me to surrender to him and give him one hundred percent of myself without fear, and I'm craving that feeling again. I just need to convince Colton that he wants it too.
Once I realize he's not going to respond, I peer over at the racks of clothes he bought and smile, loving the idea of wearing something he chose. I decide to go into the school counselor's office and see what they can do for me regarding admission. I doubt I will be able to start this semester since it's already a few weeks in, but maybe I can get registered for next semester. I grab a pair of jeans and a plain white T-shirt before gazing over at the box of lingerie. My heart rate picks up as I dump it on the bed. Piles of lace cover the sheets, and I take a deep breath. I find a modest white lace set I can wear and slip them on, trying not to think about what Colton's reaction would be if he saw me in them. I need to concentrate on getting back into school. After that's done, I can focus on cracking Colton’s resolve.
One thing at a time.
I’m sitting on a bench outside the college admin office, a smile plastered on my face as I take in the fact that I will be starting my master's next semester. The meeting went well. They were a little wary about how I came up with so much money so fast, but I assured them that it was an uncle who decided to help and left it at that. I doubt the college would approve of their students auctioning themselves off to the highest bidder in order to pay their tuition.
As the sun beats down on my face, I take out my phone, pull up Colton's name, and call. When the phone goes directly to voicemail, I sigh, hating he can't see what's between us. So instead, I text him.
Me: I just wanted to let you know I'm enrolled for next semester.
It takes two minutes for him to respond.
Colton: That's amazing. Congrats.
That's it. Reading how painfully plain his words are, I growl, wishing he would just be honest about his feelings.
Me: When are you getting home?
Simple question, but one that starts to form a plan in my head.
Colton: Around dinner. Do you want me to pick something up for you?
I notice how he leaves himself out of the equation, and I smirk, my plan forming quickly.
Me: No, I’m going to cook something. I’ll leave some for you in case you are late.
Colton: Thanks, Sutton. I shouldn't be late.
I don't respond, getting up off the bench and heading to my car. It doesn't take long for me to get the groceries I need and head back to Colton's place, my nerves fluttering inside as I watch the clock, counting down the hours until Colton gets home. Just as I put dinner in the oven—a pasta dish my mother taught me to make—I head upstairs and rifle through the pile of lingerie still on my bed. Is this a smart idea? Probably not, but it's the only thing I can think of to get Colton to drop that wall between us.
My eyes catch a pink bodysuit made of lace with a garter belt and stockings. I smirk, knowing that this color will look insane against my skin and that stockings are usually a weak spot for most men. As I pull it onto my body, I notice just how little coverage it has around my tits. I'm not small chested in the least, but this bodysuit was not made for someone like me, yet my jaw drops when I look at myself in the mirror.
I look sexy as hell.
The pink complements the paleness of my skin, and even though my tits will fall out with one wrong move, it makes me feel incredible. I quickly pull on my garter belt, attach the stockings, and head back downstairs, my heart racing as I wait for Colton to come home.
It doesn't take long before the sound of the garage opening fills the space, and I smirk, sitting down on the island, my legs dangling over the edge as I cross them suggestively. I have no idea if I look sexy or like an idiot, but I pray it's the former. And I get my answer when Colton walks into the kitchen, setting his briefcase on the table before peering over at me and stopping in his tracks.
“Sutton,” he whispers, his voice hoarse as his fingers fist at his sides. “What the fuck are you doing?” His eyes can't seem to stop staring, so I help him out a bit, uncrossing my legs and widening them, giving him a better view of what's between my thighs. “Fuck,” he growls low in his throat.
“I thought since you had such a long day at work, you deserved to come home to something nice,” I tease, my finger running down between my breasts and past my stomach to the apex of my thighs.
