Page 257 of Broken Saint

Bombshell: Not sure what I can do from so far away…

Colt: I think it’s time you headed to bed, don’t you, baby?

Bombshell: Are you suggesting I ditch Mom to dirty talk with you?

Colt: That is EXACTLY what I’m suggesting. Your fiancé is suffering here…

Holy hell, that’s both weird to type and look at.

I’m a fiancé.

Ella is my fiancée.

She’s going to be my wife.

Unable to stop myself, I shove my boxers down my legs and kick them off.

Bombshell: My fiancé…I like the sound of that.

Colt: I’d prefer the sound of you moaning in my ear.

I don’t know what it is. I was able to restrain myself when she was next to me. Sure, I was horny as fuck and desperate topush inside her. But the distance between us now is the ultimate aphrodisiac, apparently.

Bombshell: You’re trouble.

Colt: And you’re hot. Are you alone?

Bombshell: Just closed my bedroom door. What would you like me to do now?

Colt: What are you wearing?

Bombshell: Nothing like you’re imagining, I’m sure.

Colt: Try me…

It takes her longer to respond this time. For a few seconds, it says that she’s typing, but nothing comes.

It hits me that she’s probably second-guessing all this. Questioning her appearance and how she’ll look if she were to send a photo of herself.

Colt: You’ll look sexy as hell no matter what you’re wearing.

She makes me wait a few more seconds before a photo pops up on my screen of her wearing a tank and leggings.

“Fuck,” I breathe, wrapping my hand around my dick. Anyone would think she just sent me a nude or something for the way my body responds to hers.

Colt: Beautiful. So fucking beautiful.

Colt: Are you hot for me?

Bombshell: Yes.

Fucking hell. Why didn’t I just book a later flight and take her to a hotel for a few hours? Why did I do this to myself?

Colt: I’m already naked…

Holding myself up, I snap a picture that shows off my dick and abs perfectly and send it over.

Colt: Now it’s your turn, baby. Let me see that sexy body of yours.