Page 21 of Sexting My Ex's Dad

Don’t do that again. I don’t like another man potentially seeing what’s mine.

My heart jumps into my throat.His?Why do the words sound so enticing?

I didn’t realize I was your property.

The second you took that picture you should have known. I’m a man who gets what he wants, so if you’re not ready for that, I’d suggest you stop responding. You won’t get the chance to back out again.

I never would have imagined that Paul would talk to me this way – this feels so out of character for him from all of the years I’ve known him. But, I like this side – unrelenting and dominant.

And I don’t think it’s just because of the alcohol.

I don’t want to backout.

Stella, you’re playing a dangerous game. Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.

Do I mean it? I realize something…this isn’t just texting, it’s sexting. That should scare me off, make me shut my phone down and just go to sleep…something I should have done a long time ago but instead, it turns me on…so much so that I can feel the pool forming in between my legs.

There’s something so tantalizing and forbidden about this that I just can’t stop.

My phone buzzes again.

Don’t let my words scare you off. Just because it’s dangerous doesn’t mean I don’t want to play with you.

Play with me? I can’t help but to feel like those words have a double meaning.

I type back my response.

Then let’s play.

I bite my lip, emboldened by both our mutual desire and the remnants of alcohol still affecting my judgment. My heart hammers in my chest, a mix of apprehension and excitement brewing within me as I await his reaction.

Tell me the same thing tomorrow when you haven’t just spent your night at a bar.

I pout. I want to talk to him more, but he’s probably right. I am tipsy…well, maybe drunk.

Yes sir.

Saying things like that… you’re going to be the death of me. Go to bed.

I’d thought my words were innocent enough, but if that’s the kind of reaction I get…maybe I should say them more.

Goodnight.

Goodnight temptress.

My body buzzes with anticipation. A thrilling mixture of nerves and arousal courses through me, as I stuff my phone underneath a pillow.

Not like that stopped me from thinking about the messages.

“Stella, you’re playing a dangerous game” echoes in my head.

The words are true. What I’m doing right now is dangerous. Just because it isn’t a relationship doesn’t make it any less scary.

But I need to see where it goes.

I keep thinking about our exchanged texts, biting my bottom lip. His words weave a spell around me, the prospect of our rendezvous softening my anxiety like a warm embrace. My eyelids grow heavy, the drowsiness creeping in as I struggle to hold onto my thoughts.

“Sleep,” I whisper to myself, my voice barely audible. “Just sleep.”