Her Teddy Bear #2 by Mimi Strong Read Free Book Online

like you were having a good time. Really good. I think it would be frowned upon, in general, by the company, but we do work in the theater. I think most people would understand. Love is sacred and it supersedes everything. Our bodies are designed to give and receive pleasure.”
    “Thanks.” I rubbed my face to avoid eye contact.
    The waiter arrived with our meals, hot and fragrant. I had pumpkin soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.
    I confessed everything to Chad, telling him I'd broke it off with Trevor, because he'd lied to me, by omitting the detail about his ex-wife living with him.
    Chad listened, nodding and sampling his soup.
    Finally, he said, “Naomi, don't be stupid.”
    His words stung, and I recoiled, hurt.
    He saw my face and quickly added, “I mean, don't be like me when I'm stupid. I'm the stupid one, so I should know. You need to get over these little bumps, these hiccups.”
    “Hiccups?”
    “You need to call that big sexy man up and tell him you need your photocopier toner refilled.”
    “You mean sext him? A text message asking for sex? Shouldn't I just call him and ask him how he is?”
    “You said he doesn't like to talk about his feelings. So, how do you think he'll feel getting that text?”
    “Stressed.”
    “Okay, so why not take the middle line. You don't have to be so forward and tell him you want his big cock inside you, reaming you, churning your buttercream—”
    “Chad!” I blushed and fanned my face. I mean, I did want Trevor's big cock inside me, reaming me, but I didn't want to talk about it in the middle of a cafe I had lunch at regularly.
    “Send him something light and flirty. Something that says you think he's great.”
    “Uh ...”
    Chad reached for my phone, which was on the table, and raised an eyebrow at me. “May I?”
    “Send him a text message from me?” I thought about it for a moment. It had been a week since I'd seen Trevor, and checking in wouldn't be inappropriate. “Sure, go for it. But no reaming talk. Not like that.”
    Chad tapped away, smiling, then frowning, deliberating.
    A few minutes later, I said, “What are you typing, War and Peace ?”
    He handed me back the phone. The message had already been sent to Trevor. I had thought Chad would compose the message for my approval, and I'd send it, but it was already gone.
    But … I couldn't have done it better myself, really.
    The text message simply read:
    Hey, big guy. What are you wearing?
    I set the phone on the table and we finished our lunch, both of us glancing over at the phone, waiting for Trevor to respond.
    He didn't.

    By Friday, I'd almost forgot all about Trevor. And by almost , I mean I'd stopped thinking about him for hours at a time, sometimes as long as three hours.
    I was surprised when, at midnight Friday night, I got a text message from him.
    It read: Hey, why donit you come ovar? (The two spelling mistakes should have been my first clue it was a drunk text.)
    He sent me three more messages, each more insistent than the last, and his address.
    I turned off my phone and climbed into my bed, with the grown-up, white sheets.
    After a few minutes, I started to imagine what might happen if I went to his house. I remembered my first visit there, when he'd picked me up in the foyer and set my bum on a side table while he'd rubbed his bulge into my crotch, through my tights.
    And then, later in his bedroom, on that magnificent King-sized bed. We locked together in reverse, with me on top and his dick in my mouth, my pussy in his, fitting together perfectly, giving and receiving pleasure simultaneously.
    The heat between my legs grew more insistent. The house was quiet, and my door was shut, so I slipped one hand down under the covers and rubbed myself through my panties. It felt good to be touched, to be massaged.
    I pushed the other hand down there, inside my panties, and wiggled my fingers around to get them wet. I pulsed my clit, fast then slow, thinking about Trevor. Nailing me in the