Kicking Reality - Page 62

I follow everyone’s lead and pull out my cell. I log into my Twitter page, posting some tweets to keep the fans engaged. Within seconds, the notifications blow up my screen and I take a few moments to answer some questions. The fans loved the interaction but on the flipside, so did the trolls.

There were a dozen unread emails, mainly from our suppliers regarding the fitness line. I made a mental note to log in from home after the lunch and get some work done. The demands were huge and while I had a great team, I enjoyed being hands on.

I scroll through the other unread items when a text appears at the top of my screen.

How you been, Chase?

The message from Logan comes out of nowhere. Two weeks and he doesn’t talk to me after fucking me twice in the hotel room. Part of me is angry, another part forces the zen to spread because I had no right to be angry.

We weren’t in a relationship.

I quickly respond knowing I had only minutes before we started filming again.

Hello Stranger.

The bubble follows with a quick response.

That’s all I get? C’mon, play with me.

I scan the table, everyone still busy minding their own business. Wesley hasn’t returned and with him gone, I type extremely fast, conscious of being caught.

Play with you? I got no toys to share. How exactly do you want me to play with you?

“Let’s roll, everyone!” Cliff calls from the end of the table.

Wesley is back, settling himself in as I tuck my cell into my purse. We dive back into conversations about a potential trip to England to watch the Victoria Secret show that Farrah has front-row tickets to. The thought of traveling to England excited me. I had been there only once with my parents and had poor memories of rain and grumpy hotel staff.

But it wasn’t only that.

Logan lived in England.

Poppy claps her hands excitedly, suggesting we visit her hometown while we’re there. Obviously, Cliff had planted this idea in Poppy and Farrah’s heads making it look like a spur-of-the-moment decision. It was the first I had heard of it, but the more we spoke, the more excited I had become. In season one we did a trip to New York City. It wasn’t so special given that I had been there many times before. Our second season had us vacationing in Maui. We had the time of our lives.

England would be fantastic except for one thing—you’re going to be there with Wesley. Not Logan.

Farrah talks about all the things she has planned for us, and when the cameras focus on her and Poppy discussing the tube, I half pull out my cell and check the text from Logan.

Wherever you are, there must be somewhere you can go and privately video playing with yourself. I dare you.

I quickly re-read the text, not realizing I was holding my breath and that the cameras are rotating between us. I shove my cell back into my purse again, distracting myself in conversation before excusing myself to use the restroom.

“Emerson, can’t you wait?” Cliff asks, agitated.

“No, Cliff,” I answer in annoyance. “Excuse me.”

I remove the napkin from my lap, disappearing to the back of the restaurant where I trap myself in the corner cubicle, pulling out my cell with desperation.

Why must you dare me? You know I never back down.

I had never done anything like this. The thrill of the unknown pushes me to act spontaneously. I slide my panties off, shoving them in my purse as I raise my leg and rest it on the lid of the toilet seat. Lifting my dress above my thighs, I position my phone underneath my dress, hitting the record button. Playfully rubbing myself, I close my eyes and allow the excitement to make me come in less than a minute. In no way did it compare to the times that Logan had made me come, but still, it rocked my body until I stop recording with my hands shaking.

Catching my breath, I hit send with the caption:

You wanted to play. Here you go. Have fun.

The video takes a while to send, so I remove my panties from my bag, placing them back on and straightening my dress. I exit the cubicle and place my cell on the expensive vanity and wash my hands. Gazing into the mirror, my cheeks are flushed and emit a glow. Grabbing a wash cloth, I quickly dampen it and try to cool myself down before anyone notices. The vibration of my cell is loud, echoing through the small restroom.

Shit. Now I feel like I owe you something in return. Have fun.

Tags: Kat T. Masen Romance
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