Page 44 of Puck Me Up

While I stared down at her words, especially the part where she saidI miss you, another bubble popped up with three bouncing dots. I held my breath, waiting, desperate to know what she would say next. But after a few seconds, the bubble went away and it didn’t come back.

I fought the desire to beg her to tell me what she’d been typing, whatever it was she’d decided not to say. Was it anything like the hundred-some-odd things that I was just barely managing to keep to myself?

I miss you, too. Other than that, all’s well here. You tell me the time and place and I’ll show up with bells on.

I only just stopped myself from adding more—like a declaration of undying love. It wasn’t that I was ashamed, or embarrassed about my feelings. But I was afraid that I might scare her away if she realized that our relationship meant more to me than it did to her. She was the type to cut me off to save my heart, but I’d rather throw my heart down in the mud and let her stomp on it than live without her.

There were those maddening, bouncing dots again. At least this time, she hit send.

Come to my place. I’ll make dinner. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.

I swallowed the groan that rose in my throat at the promise contained in her words. I swear, at just the thought of her, the room filled with her heady cinnamon scent.

Before I could formulate a response, another message came through and stopped me in my tracks. The rest of the world faded away.

It was a picture of Hope. A picture of my whole heart, in classic selfie form, the lens tilted up at an angle. She held the phone at arm’s length, and as a result, had managed to capture her entire naked torso. Her breasts were as wonderful as I remembered, a perfect handful with small, dark nipples. My mouth watered just looking at them. And my dick wasn’t just awake now, it was hard as steel and trying to jab its way out of my sweatpants.

No use fighting it.

I grabbed my throbbing length and squeezed. This time, I didn’t try to quiet my needy groan. I clumsily tapped out a reply with my left hand as I shoved my pants down with my right.

I’m going to make you scream for me when I get my hands on you.

Promise?

I laughed hoarsely. Shaking my head, I wrapped my hand around the base of my throbbing cock and squeezed as I stroked upward. A shudder coursed through me as I thought about tipping the head inside her impossibly warm, tight pussy, sliding all the way home with one hard thrust. I wanted to hear my name on her lips. I wanted her to beg me for more.

Cross my heart and hope to die,I sent back before scrolling up to eye her picture. Her reply bumped me back down to the bottom of the thread. First, she sent a large smiley face with heart eyes. Then the dots were back.

I can’t wait. We’re headed to dinner. I hope you have a great night.

I’ll have a better one when you’re in my bed,I typed out, and then I stared at the words for a couple of seconds before backspacing until the text box was empty again. After a couple of minutes of consideration, I responded lamely withYou, too.

Another smiley face. This one was winking and blowing me a kiss. I returned to the selfie like a boomerang and enlarged it to full screen. I hadn’t jerked off to a picture of tits since I was twelve years old, but this one had me on the edge already.

I pushed away the gloom that came with knowing that Hope and Jamie were out on the town, a real couple, doing real couple shit, while I sat at home like a good little toy. I wanted more, but I was grateful for what I had. For now, at least, it was enough.

I slid my hand from the base of my cock to the tip and then back down again. Staring into Hope’s eyes, which looked dark as charcoal in the photo, I imagined that it was her touching me. That she was the desperate one. Desperate for my come. Desperate for my love. That thought combined with the picture was enough to send me careening over the edge in minutes. My cock erupted come onto my stomach as I groaned and let the current drag me under.

When I finally came back into my body, my shame caught up with me and sank its claws into my brain. I was definitely a simp for her. I jerked my T-shirt off and used it to clean myself up, rubbing the skin of my stomach roughly until it was pink. Then I tossed it onto the tiled kitchen floor and jerked the elastic band of my pants back up around my waist.

My love for Hope was a secret I was barely keeping. But keep it I would. If I wanted to keep her, I had no other choice.

57.

Rowan

I showed up a few minutes early on Sunday. I couldn’t help myself. I was itching for Hope.

When she answered the door, I nearly hit the deck. She was wearing a tight black dress, her dirty-blonde hair falling over her shoulders, her lips lined red.

I just stared.

I wasn’t stupid or optimistic enough to think that all of this was for me. I was just happy that I would be welcomed as a third wheel. She gave me a warm smile.

“Hey,” I managed huskily before stepping forward and wrapping my arms around her waist, letting myself act instead of think for once.

I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers. She melted against me immediately, fisting her hands in my shirt and pulling me closer, harder. I moaned into her mouth and I knew she could feel the rock-hard evidence of my excitement.

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