Well, that backfired.
“Oh, screw you, Crowne,” I shake my head, soaking in every inch of his mouthwatering physique.
“No? Don’t like ’em?” Teasingly, he lowers his phone.
“I did not say that I don’t like your choice of sleepwear, but I’ll need another peek to make a well-informed decision.”
Grinning, he props his phone against the bathroom sink before lining his toothbrush with paste as I prop my own phone. We wordlessly brush our teeth, the buzz of a brush motor sounding on his end. It’s when our foaming mouths overflow—showcasing our twin smiles—that I decide to take a quick screenshot.
He rolls his eyes when he sees the notification on his end and rinses while I speak up. “You have your idea of screenshot worthy. I have mine,” I defend. Exiting the bathroom, I prop my phone on the nightstand and grip the first snap button on my robe as he slips into his hotel bed and holds his phone up, so his face fills the screen. Seeing me hesitate, fingers paused on the top button at my neck, he quirks a dark brow. “You got something going on under there?”
“Nothing special,” I squeak.
“I’ll be the judge.”
“Okay, but no screenshots.”
“Everything under that robe is for my fucking eyes only,” he proclaims adamantly before grinning. “I’m also the only one who gets to know how truly filthy you really are.”
“I am not,” I feign offense.
“‘Harder, Easton. Harder!’ Who the hell do you think you’re fooling? Well…my dirty girl, on with it.”
“You realize you’ve been ordering me around a lot today, right?”
“Sorry, I would just really love to see if there’s a girdle under there.”
“Just for that, show’s over.”
“Baby, please,” he murmurs before giving me Puss in Boots eyes. “I’ll play nice.”
“Jesus, you can be a manipulative shit at times.”
“But it’s about to pay off, right?” His lips twist in an infuriating smirk. “Come on, Beauty, it’s been too long.” His voice heats. “I need to see what’s mine.”
Careful to keep my ridiculous cap out of view, I slowly unsnap my robe to reveal myself wearing nothing but a black cami and hip-hugging black panties.
“Fuck me,” he groans, “had to go there, didn’t you?”
“It’s not exactly lingerie.”
“Tell that to my cock because he’s weeping.”
My neck heats as I quickly slip into bed.
“Hell no, you can’t do that. Tease.”
Plucking my phone from the nightstand, I bring it to eye level, ensuring my cap is still out of view as Easton lifts his chin in prompt. “A little more? For my cock’s sake?”
Lowering the sheets, I reveal the cleavage poking above the top of my cami.
“Better, but not nearly enough.”
Anxious, but too entranced by the heat in his voice, I manage to wiggle out of my panties while holding the phone. I lift them into view for him to see before tossing them next to me on the bed.
His eyes instantly heat as he speaks up in a throaty whisper. “More.”
“Easton,” I protest, skin flushing.
“Show me,” he demands, shifting to rest his back against his headboard.
“You first,” I tease.
In the next second, I’m graced with the sight of his ripped torso, and the small line of dark hair sprinkled along his navel before he lowers his boxers an inch, revealing the glistening head of his cock.
“More,” I urge, my mouth watering as he slides his briefs down slowly to reveal his long, thick dick that is currently standing at rapt attention. Filling his hand, he pumps himself once before turning the camera away and jerking his chin.
“Your turn.”
Eyes roaming his face, I lower my cami giving him a brief peek-a-boo of my hardening nipples.
“Jesus,” he murmurs. “A little more.”
“Are we really about to do this?” I giggle nervously.
“Have you ever?” He asks, his voice strained.
“I’ve tried, but honestly, it was so lame I didn’t finish,” I confess. “So yes and no.”
“I love that I’ll be the first to make you come.”
“I do, too. You are a first for so many things already, Easton,” I admit, lifting the phone to my face, heart pounding.
His tone softens in response. “Like what?”
I shake my head. “I’ll tell you when we’re together.”
“Really? You going to hold out on me?”
“Yeah.”
“All right, I’m going to get it out of you, bet. Now, let me help you come.”
“Okay,” I say, raking my lip as we stare at each other for several seconds, the ever-present pull palpable as I lose myself in the look in his eyes. Certain he can see the arousal building on my face, he bites his lip and slowly releases it.
“I’m so fucking hard for you already.”
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
“All of it,” he pants, pumping his cock again.
“Easton—” I breathe as he lowers the camera giving me the most amazing view. “I’m aching so bad right now,” I whisper, hearing the need in my voice.
“Will you let me see more of you?”
“Okay, but promise me, no screenshots.”
“Not fucking ever,” he says with a dangerous edge. “Are you wet?”
“Very.”
“Spread your legs,” he commands with little restraint, “show me.”
I do and am instantly rewarded with an answering groan. On fire and anxious to earn more of them, I lower the camera further, spreading myself with my free hand before drawing my wetness up to my clit.
“Jesus. Fuck, Beauty,” he pants. “Now suck those fingers,” he orders gruffly, “like you would suck me.”
I lift the camera and swirl my tongue over the pads of my fingers, tasting myself before sucking them down to the knuckle.
“Put them inside you, nice and slow.” I groan his name as I do. “That’s where I want to be right fucking now,” he grits out, tension in his voice. “Your face,” he whispers. “I can’t look at what I can’t eat anymore. All I need to see is your face.” Lifting my phone, I’m met by the fire burning in his mesmerizing depths, his lust-covered expression bringing me closer.
“Massage your clit.”
Soaked and panting, I stroke my sweet spot and find myself on the brink within quick seconds. “Easton,” I gasp. “I’m already…”
He starts to stroke himself furiously as I press my head back into the pillow and close my eyes.
“Look at me while you come.”
My orgasm unfurls through me in soft waves as I exhale his name. His eyes close briefly at the sound of it before he covers his stomach with his own release.
“How was that?” He asks, heavy breathing subsiding.
“Definitely not lame, but not nearly enough. Thanks a lot. You’ve ruined me.”
“That’s just the start,” he assures as he heads back into the bathroom and wets a rag to clean himself off. The act of watching him do it is so intimate that I somehow feel closer to him in those seconds.
“It’s been the perfect night, the perfect date. How in the hell did people do long-distance before FaceTime?”
“Phone calls, letters,” he says.
“And emails,” I add, which earns me a warning look. “It had to be so much harder back then.”
“I’m glad we don’t have to fucking deal.” He slips back into bed, palm cradling his head, bicep bulging next to him, eyes glittering with warmth and affection. I burn the sight of it into memory.
“Get some sleep, Beauty. You’ve got an article to write for me tomorrow.”
“You’re reading my columns?”
“Every day, like religion. Why wouldn’t I read them? It’s your passion, and you should know,” he gives me a warm half-smile, “even though I rag on you, I love the way you tell stories.”
Momentarily speechless, I battle threatening tears. “That means a lot to me, Easton, really.”
“You mean a lot to me. But I really do love the way you write. That one about the two brothers who got separated for twenty years got me emotional. I wrote some lyrics after I read it.”
“Really?” I ask, my chest exploding. “Will you let me read them?”
“Of course,” he whispers.
“Eight days,” I remind him. “If you’re wondering.”
“I’m counting them. I’m fucking counting,” he exhales harshly.
“Me too,” I admit freely, heart swelling.