I want to be with him in any and every way possible, I realize, even if it means dealing with his show.
“Thank you so much,” I tell the woman before ending the call. “Your responses have been very helpful. Oh, and by the way,” I add with a smile. “I’m so happy that Jake was able to help you.”
Yeah, I can deal with it. Especially knowing he’s helping out all these women. I might not like it, but I can live with it. As long as I’m the one he comes home to at night.
Well, if that’s what he wants. There’s no doubt in my mind now that I do.
I make several more phone calls over the next few hours and basically just get more of the same. By the time I’m done with the interviews I have report after glowing report of how Jake has changed all of these women’s lives—for the better in every single circumstance.
Now all that’s left is for me to prepare my report. I’ve done my due diligence. Completed my research. Observed the behind the scenes processes. There’s nothing left to conclude about A Cunning Linguist. My decision on the fine has been made.
Now I just have to write it up and send it to Lori. She’s going to be furious when she sees the results.
Jake
It’s been such a long day. Toby’s long gone, but I’m still in my office working on my computer, fleshing out some ideas that I have for ACL for the next half of the season. What can I say? I was inspired. I guess love can do that to a guy.
Yeah, I said it. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what Toby said earlier and my subsequent realization. Layla is perfect for me. There’s no question in my mind now.
Just as I’m about to put the finishing touches on my draft from my brainstorming session, my phone beeps. I pick it up.
Layla.
Tapping on the phone to bring up her text, my eyes practically bulge out of my head.
Oh fuck.
Layla just sexted me with a carefully angled photo of herself. From what I can see she’s on her bed—naked. There's nothing too crazy about it; I can’t actually see anything, but it’s what I can’t see that makes my cock spring to attention.
It’s almost artistic the way she has her arms and legs positioned across her body. And if I’m not mistaken, her hand that disappears just at the bottom of the screen is settled right in between her legs.
I groan as I read her message.
Typing with one hand because the other is busy right now.
This woman. Like I said. Perfect for me.
Sounds hard, I reply.
Pointing my phone down, I snap a picture of my pants, which look like they’re about to be shredded by the massive boner she’s causing.
A minute later there’s another beep.
It is a bit of a sticky situation.
She immediately follows up with a picture of nothing but her fingers—wet and dripping with her juices.
Jesus Christ. I can’t wait another minute. My cock is already throbbing more painfully with every passing second. I quickly whip my dick out and wrap my hand around it, hissing out a breath as I imagine her wet, sticky, cum-coated fingers wrapping around my thick cock.
My cock twitches and I stroke myself, my breath coming faster. With my other hand, I snap another picture of me jerking off and send it to her.
Yeah, yeah, women don’t want to be assaulted with dick pics, right? I call bullshit. Maybe they just haven’t been seeing the right dicks. Because mine right now? It’s thick and swollen and throbbing, the massive head dripping with precum as I continue jerking off to thoughts of Layla’s sweet, sweet pussy. You’re imagining it, aren’t you? Don’t tell me you aren’t. You wish you could see what Layla’s seeing. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t want me to send this to you right now.
That’s what I thought.
Layla’s next text makes me gri
n.