She stood in the doorway of his room, wearing only a crop top and tight little shorts.<br>In her hand — his phone.<br><br>“Did you save the voicemail?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.<br><br>He smirked. “You said it yourself: ‘Oh my God, I can’t stand it without your tongue… It was a masterpiece…’”<br><br>Her eyes widened. “Delete it. Delete it or I’ll forward it to that girl you’re always texting.”<br><br>He leaned back in his chair, looking her up and down.<br>“Let her hear you moan,” he said. “Maybe then she’ll understand why I don’t text her back.”<br><br>She blushed — angry, turned on, unsure.<br>“You’re kidding.”<br><br>“I think you’re standing here in those little shorts, threatening to ruin my life…”<br>He looked her dead in the eye.<br>“And I honestly don’t know what I want more — for you to leave… or to sit down on me.”<br><br>She didn’t answer. She just step closer.<br>And then slowly sat on his lap.<br><br>The voicemail wasn’t the only thing that would make her moan tonight

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