“Don’t,” I groan.
Mom laughs out loud. “I’m joking! I don’t think he can even stay erect long enough these days to make the mold.”
Oh, fuck me.
She waves to Lamar. “Go put on that cream and take some painkillers, honey. It’ll help.” With a shove, she nudges him toward the guest bathroom, still cackling as she turns and heads back down the hallway to do whatever it is she’s up to.
“Heavens help me,” I mutter once I’m alone, just as my brand-new phone rings. Yes… brand-new. My old one had a crack running straight through the middle of the screen after I threw it at the wall. It was an oldie, but it still worked—until my impromptu hissy fit made sure it didn’t.
Mom went to the mall yesterday for some last-minute shopping for the wedding and asked if I wanted to come along since her sister couldn’t make it. I was planning to just get my screen repaired while we were there, but she surprised me with a brand-new phone for my birthday instead.
The higher resolution and bigger screen is definitely a perk. I may or may not have spent way too much time in bed last night scrolling through all the kinky stuff Jace has sent me over the last few months.
But did that also mean I saw that damn duet in high resolution as well? Definitely yes, but even though I don’t like how Mick was all over him, how he keeps trying even though my man already told him no, I still trust Jace. And Ialwayswill.
It hurts my heart to see it, but I know it’s for show. The pictures, the duet, the attention. I keep holding on to the fact that it’s temporary. He only needs to keep the truce for this tour, for these ten weeks, and I can give him that. I won’t get in between him and his goals, I never will.
So I grin when I see his name flashing on the screen. I answer, and just when I go to say hi, he beats me to it, launching straight into “Happy Birthday to You” in that familiar, raspy voice of his. Like always, it hits me like a charge—goosebumps, spine shivers, the whole damn thing. Ilovehearing him sing.
It’s magnetic.
Captivating.
I’m biting back a giddy grin as he finishes on an over-the-top high note, and I give him a slow clap in response. Mom and Lamar, who both wandered back in, chime in with their own applause.
“Ten out of ten,” I say. “Truly Grammy-worthy.”
“You’re most welcome. I reserve all my private shows solely for you. Nice shirt, by the way.” He winks, the corner of his mouth pulled into that trademark smirk I love so much. He’s outsidesomewhere, bright daylight behind him. The wind ruffles the hair on top of his head and—fuck—I want to touch it. Twirl it between my fingers.
I know I’m probably giving him a dopey smile, too happy to see him to even bother with a response, because he just chuckles and goes on: “I just wrapped the first interview, and we’re about to start the second, so I’m glad you picked up. Did my present arrive?”
I blink out of my Jace-induced stupor. “What? You sent me a present?” I glance at Lam’s Clone-a-Willys, now neatly tucked back into the box. “I think nothing can beat what Lamar gave me. Or gaveus, really.”
“Hmm, you sure? I think my present might outshine all the others. Let’s wait until you open it and compare. And yeah, it’s your birthday—Ihadto send you something.”
“Ugh, now I feel like shit. I never sent yours last month.”
Yeah, I bought his gift the minute he left after exams, planned to give it to him for his twenty-third, but it’s still sitting on my nightstand. I wanted to hand it over in person. Their schedule changes so much, and I was afraid it’d get lost in the mail. Then came the back-to-back interviews and shows, and… ugh.
His low chuckle fills my ears. “Oh, I remember something different. I believe you sent me an amazing video with birthday wishes.” That smirk of his turns downright filthy. “And I don’t need stuff.You’rethe present.”
“I am, huh?”
“Yeah… You are. You stuck by me, Ty. That’s all I need.”
Yeah, I’m swooning hard over here.
“But the video was good, too. You can send thoseanytime,” he adds—loudly.
My cheeks instantly heat as I shush him, painfully aware my mom can probably hear everything. Yup. I sent him a video of myself in bed jerking off and fingering my ass—coming to thememory of him inside me. To the memory of how he owns me, body and soul, and how he makes me his every single time we make love.
It was the first time I ever filmed myself. Sure, I’ve sent him the occasional sexy pic, and yeah, we love our filthy FaceTime sessions when he manages to find some privacy, but a video? That felt likemore.
More intimate. More raw. More personal.
Of course, I was nervous as fuck and kinda awkward at first, but the thought of him watching me and getting hot and bothered by it—of him getting off because ofme—got me going real fast. It didn’t take long before I was fully into it, showing him just how much my body misses him.
And honestly? I think I’m going to make another one soon. Because the videohesent back? Let’s just say… I’ve been using it for my goodnight tug every night since.
