IRL: In Real Life (After Oscar, #1)(19)

Conor: I see. Love ’em and leave ’em, huh?





Sexy Stranger: No love. Just sex. And you? Are you the cuddling type, NotSam?





I chose not to linger on the first half of his response, preferring to focus on the second part instead. I took a minute to think through my answer before typing. Did I want to play a role, or did I want to be the real me with this guy? The idea of trying to be someone he wanted made me feel as exhausted as the long day of meetings had.

Fuck it, if he didn’t like the real me, he could stop responding.

I really hoped he didn’t stop responding.

Conor: Cuddle whore here. Founding member of the cuddle club, in fact. You should consider joining; we give out free spoons.





Sexy Stranger: And do you prefer the big or little one?





Conor: I’m 5’ 10”. While I’d love to be the little spoon all the time, it depends on who I’m with.





Sexy Stranger: Ah. A middle spoon?





I looked up to realize I’d walked several buildings past my hotel entrance. I chuckled to myself and turned around, almost taking out a young woman with my bulky messenger bag.

“Sorry,” I murmured.

“Less texting, more looking, yeah?” she barked. “Idiot.”

I forced myself to pay attention until I was safely through the glass vestibule and into the marbled lobby.

Conor: Almost got beaten up by a business woman on the street. This city is insanely aggressive.





Sexy Stranger: Are you alright? Rush hour isn’t for tourists.





Conor: I’m fine. Sidewalks were packed, but I wanted the fresh air. Wait, did you just call me a tourist?





Sexy Stranger: Does the shoe fit and is it causing blisters yet?





I stopped at the elevator and took stock of my feet. Now that he’d mentioned it, I did feel an uncomfortable pinch on my right heel.

Conor: Does it make you feel powerful to be right all the time?





Sexy Stranger: It does indeed.





Conor: You have a smug smirk on your face right now, don’t you?





Sexy Stranger: Are you in your room yet?





My dick thickened, and I quickly moved my messenger bag around front to hide it from any interested parties among the people waiting for the elevator. When the doors slid open, I stutter-stepped into the corner of the mirrored box and continued to hold my bag in front.

“Thirty-third floor please,” I murmured to the older gentleman nearest the buttons.

Conor: Almost there.





Suddenly my screen filled with a vivid color photo of muscular, curved thighs covered in just the right amount of dark hair. Nestled at the top of the gorgeous thighs was god’s gift to genital lovers everywhere: full balls and a long, hard cock with that mesmerizing hand stroking it.

Conor: Dear god. Hold me.





Sexy Stranger: I’m busy holding something else right now. Get in your room and get naked on the bed. You have ten seconds.





My heart hammered in my chest, and I glanced up to see what floor we were passing. Some kind of elevator deity must have been giving me cell service despite being inside the flying box.

The doors slid open on the twenty-ninth floor and no one moved.

“Anyone? Twenty-nine?” I asked in a rush. “No?”

I laser-eyeballed the older gentleman in hopes by will alone I could make him press the door closed button. No such luck.

After a thousand years, the doors finally slid closed and shot us up to my floor where I practically created a vacuum with the way I bolted out of the elevator so fast. I fumbled my room key and then dropped my phone before getting my shit together and racing through the door. I got my clothes off in less than three seconds and long-jumped for the bed, bouncing up and down again before settling on my back and opening the camera on my phone.

My dick was tall and proud as I snapped a pic and sent it across the city to parts unknown.

Conor: Aye-aye, Cap’n. One-eyed salute at the ready.





I lay there excited and hopeful, looking forward to the sexty playtime ahead.

There was no response.

I stared at the phone for seconds, then minutes. Finally, after a full twenty minutes, my erection long deflated, I gave up. Surely, he wasn’t punishing me for taking longer than ten seconds?

Was he?

My heart fell. I hated disappointing people in general, but I sure as hell hated disappointing him. For some reason it stung more than it should have. His lack of even a message telling me something had come up was the nail in the coffin.

I eventually got up and pulled on workout clothes to take out my frustration in the hotel gym. There was no need to locate my earbuds since I’d be damned if I was bringing my traitorous phone with me.





8





Wells





Just as I was about to lead Conor to another intense orgasm over text, my phone died.

“Fuck!” I clicked every button I could to see if it had just gone to sleep on me. It never died this early in the day, regardless of how much I used it.