Only You by K.T. Quinn

21

Donovan

The Day We Sexted

This girl was killing me.

I really thought I had her wrapped around my fingers last night—both literally and figuratively. Dancing with her on the balcony, rubbing her wet slit until she was a puddle of moans and gasps in my arms, and then saying goodnight and hopping back over to my balcony.

I expected her to be begging me for more tonight. Once the dividing doors between our rooms were open, it was only a matter of time before she caved and crawled over to my side. She was mine.

But instead of that, she stayed on her side and reached through…

I wanted to resist. To grab her arm and pull her over so I could show her a proper night. But the way her long fingers wrapped around my cock, stroking me while teasing me from the other side with breathless whispers? It left me powerless to do anything but lean back against the wall and close my eyes. Within a minute she had me gasping and coming, spilling my load all over her pretty pink fingernails.

And then, just like I had done, she said goodnight and returned to her room.

I was like putty in her hands, not the other way around.

Yeah, I know. I deserved it after leaving her hanging on the balcony. Turnabout was fair play, right?

But that didn’t stop me from plotting my revenge.

I’ll get you back, Molly, I thought as I crawled into bed that night. Just you wait.

I woke up the next morning and went down to the kitchen. The leftover smell from last night’s meal hung in the air, and I breathed in deeply. I didn’t know how long the lockdown would continue, but until it ended, the kitchen felt like mine.

Someday I’ll have my own, I thought as I washed my hands.

There were tortillas in the pantry so I scrambled some eggs, chopped some peppers, and made breakfast burritos.

I was halfway done when the phone on the wall rang.

I nearly jumped out of my shoes at the sudden, alarming sound. It was probably best to ignore it. Answering the phone would let the caller know I was using the kitchen. And despite all my teasing about Molly being afraid to break the rules, I did not want to get in trouble for being in here.

The phone stopped ringing. I breathed a sigh of relief. But ten seconds later it began ringing again.

Curiosity tingled in my brain, and I carefully reached out to pick up the receiver. “Uh, buongiorno?” I said, butchering the Italian word.

Molly giggled on the other end. “Excuse me, is this room service?”

I closed my eyes and laughed with her. “Si, it is indeed! I must inform you that we have a set menu this morning. We are serving breakfast burritos with green peppers and aged cheddar cheese.”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll take one of those. Bring it to my room quickly, please. I’m a good tipper.”

I grinned at her playful, demanding behavior. This girl was fucking adorable.

And bringing her food in bed was a good way for me to get even with her.

I carried the burrito upstairs and knocked on the door. “Room service,” I said in my best Italian accent, which wasn’t very convincing.

A shadow passed in front of the peephole. “Put it on the ground, please. You may leave.”

“What about my tip?” I said in a suggestive voice.

“No way,” she said. “I’m not opening the door. You might try to pay me back for last night.”

“Oh?” I said with mock confusion. “Why would I need to pay you back for last night?”

Silence answered me.

I sighed, then placed the plate on the ground and stepped back.

“I can still see you,” she said in a sing-song voice. “You’re hiding next to the door. Go down the hall.”

I took five more steps backwards. Molly’s door opened and fingers with pink nails reached into the hall to take the plate. The door closed quickly like she expected me to try to run up and barge in.

Damnit, I thought as I went back down to the kitchen. I needed another idea.

It came to me a few minutes later when Molly texted me.

Molly: That was delicious. See? I cleaned my plate! Need any help cleaning the kitchen?

There was a photo included. Molly was on her bed with the plate next to her. The photo was taken from her point of view, showing her long legs stretched out. She wasn’t wearing any pants, and her pink panties were lined with frilly black lace. In the photo I could barely make out the outline of her pussy lips.

“You don’t know what you’ve just done,” I said out loud.

I stripped down to my boxer-briefs. They already fit snugly, but they tightened as I stroked myself until I was hard. Then I positioned my dick so that it ran down one leg, a thick cylinder pushing against the fabric of my underwear.

I stood next to the kitchen prep station and took a photo aiming down. The top half of the photo was the clean countertop, and the bottom half of the photo was my junk.

Donovan: Thanks for the offer, but the kitchen is spotless now.

Molly: Wow. It’s not even a little messy. Is it hard keeping it that clean?

Donovan: It’s very hard.

Donovan: I’m thinking of going for a swim after this. Want to get wet with me?

Molly: Mmm, that’s tempting. But I’m all snuggled in bed right now.

Molly: I kind of want to play with some balls, though.

Molly: Billiards in the lounge this afternoon? Unless you’d rather play with yourself in the kitchen…

Donovan: I do love playing with myself. But I might swing by around four.

Yeah, I was definitely going to get Molly back today. She had no idea what was in store for her.