Four Letter Word (Dirty Deeds 1) - Page 13

Got some mouth on you.

I pinched my eyes shut as my cock reacted …a-fuckin’-gain.

Shit.

Did I seriously need to give myself another reminder of her mouth? Hadn’t my brain been stripped of blood flow enough today?

Thanks? LOL. Not sure how to respond to that, so I’ll just take it as a compliment.

It was a compliment. Trust me.

Okay.

You trust me?

Where the fuck was I going with that question?

Way to switch into full-on creeper mode, Brian.

Christ.

I needed to back up before she blocked me and prevented any future conversations.

Not sure why I asked that or what the fuck it meant. You don’t know me. Can’t trust people you don’t know.

I don’t NOT trust you. If that makes sense. People don’t really earn trust with me. They lose it.

I stared at the screen, finding her response both interesting and cryptic, but not having time to dwell further on that as she hit me up again.

This is weird, right?

What?

This. Texting each other. I honestly wasn’t expecting to talk to you again. Everything in my life is seriously messed up right now.

What’s messed up about it?

EVERYTHING.

You gonna elaborate on that?

I’ll bore you.

Try me.

I waited anxiously for her reply. I wasn’t sure I was going to get one.

This felt too personal, but fuck it, I wanted to know.

Honestly? I feel like I’m spinning out of control. You ever feel like that?

Can’t say I have.

Like, I’m trying to focus on something steady to keep myself from falling, but I can’t see it. I just keep picking up speed, spinning and spinning.

I was staring at her response when another message came through.

It’s a really scary feeling.

Something pitted in my chest. I remembered a part of our conversation last night. The echo of pain shining through when she whispered she hated me, or the man she thought I was. There was more to her besides the anger coating her mouth, clinging to the hatred she was spewing.

And here it was again.

I forced my fingers to type the first thought that popped into my head, even though my brain was screaming, screaming at me to type anything else.

Focus right here.

Awesome. I was losing my mind. Or I had already lost it when I’d sent her that first message. There was no other explanation for my behavior.

She took a whole fucking minute to respond.

I’m Sydney, by the way. Hi.

I smiled. Relief warmed my blood.

Hey.

Hey …you. No name? That’s not really fair. What am I supposed to program you in my phone as? Dildo sucker? Don’t lie …you’ve considered it.;)

I dropped my head with a laugh.

Damn, she was delightful.

And she wanted to program me into her phone. She wanted to know who I was.

That felt good.

Telling her my name wasn’t a huge issue. Not my first name anyway.

Brian. And fuck no. Still not into anything involving dildos. You?

Desire bloomed with a warm ache in my groin.

Teetering on inappropriate? Yes. However, she opened the dildo discussion. I was simply continuing it.

Hi Brian.

Wild. Asked you a question.

SMH.

I didn’t think she was going to give me an answer. Then a few seconds later she leveled me with one.

Dildos can be very useful when your husband stops wanting to have sex with you. I gotta run. My friend is waiting for me.

I stared, mouth hanging open, rereading the same sentence repeatedly until I was certain I wasn’t imagining things.

Husband. The fuck? I had no fucking idea how to take that. I didn’t believe she was married. The way she spoke last night, defending her friend with such conviction, there was no way she’d be going behind her husband’s back to text me. Even if this was purely innocent, which I honestly wasn’t sure if it was, what married woman would actively engage in a conversation about dildos with a man who wasn’t her husband?

Maybe she was married? Isn’t anymore? How fucking old is this chick?

The door chimed and Cole walked into the shop, carrying two bags of food. I quickly typed the only response I could think of without digging for answers.

Later.

I shoved my phone away and looked up as Cole dropped the bags on the counter. Jamie was right behind him.

“Dude, fucking finally. How did you screw up the order?” Jamie asked.

He began digging into one of the bags, pulling out containers and chopsticks and passing them out.

Cole slowly looked over at him and glowered.

“I didn’t screw it up. I asked for chicken and broccoli, hold the broccoli, which by the way is the dumbest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever heard. I could’ve just said chicken.”

“Then I would’ve gotten plain chicken. I want it with the sauce, brother, and I don’t like trees in my food.” Jamie popped off the lid of his order. “What was the problem?”

“They put trees in your food. You’re lucky I checked.”

I watched the three girls exit the shop.

“Underage?” I asked as Jamie turned his head at the sound of the chime.

“Yep.”

Cole laughed. “I’m surprised that stopped you.”

“I like untapped pussy, not underage pussy, dick,” Jamie said, shoving a piece of chicken into his mouth. “I have some fuckin’ standards. Cut me some slack.”

“For your one standard?” Cole asked.

Tags: J. Daniels Dirty Deeds
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