Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“I send him pictures,” she confesses.
“What?” My mouth falls open. “Like sexy pictures?” I whisper, not wanting the families that are eating a few booths over to hear our conversation.
She nods. “He sends them back.”
I’m not sure what to say. Partly because all I keep thinking about is sending a couple to Chad and what his reaction might be. “The service is spotty.” It’s a lame reply, but I’m still processing. I would never have considered it, but now it’s all that I can think about.
“It is, but when he gets service, it’s a nice surprise. We gotta do what we gotta do while our husbands are gone. You should consider it.”
I’m nodding. “I should try it.”
Her grin is wicked. “Do it. He’s going to be shocked, but he’s going to love it.”
“You think?”
“Faith, they’re in the middle of the desert. They have nothing but sand and heat. Of course he’s going to love getting images of his wife in a—” She looks around us and then turns her eyes back to me. “—compromising position.”
“Okay.”
She grins and slides out of the booth. “It’s on me tonight. You, my friend, need to go home and have a photoshoot.”
“Do you dress up?” I ask, placing the tip on the table, and following her to the register. I’m out of my depth here. I have no idea where I would even start, but the idea, it’s taking root and I want to try. I want to do that for him.
“Sometimes, but he doesn’t care either way. It’s me, and when he’s missing me, that’s all that matters.”
I wonder if Chad is missing me like that. Either way, I’ve made up my mind. I’m doing this. I want to be his wife in every way when he’s deployed and when he’s home. This is a part of that. I want to take care of him while he’s gone.
Hannah hugs me on the sidewalk in front of our house. She and Erik live just a few more houses down. “Let me know how it goes.” My face flushes beneath the streetlights and she laughs. “I don’t need details, and I’m certain he’ll love it, but you can give me confirmation.”
Instead of answering her, I pull her into another hug. “Thank you for dinner. Next week it’s on me.”
“Sounds like a plan. Have a good night.” She winks.
“You too.” I laugh, because it’s weird that she knows what I’m about to do. Unlocking the front door, I turn on the small lamp in the entryway. Making sure the door is locked, I toss my keys and purse on the small kitchen island, and with my phone clutched in my hand, I move toward the bedroom.
I don’t own sexy lingerie. Something I’ll remedy if this goes over well. So tonight, he’s just getting me. Quickly, I strip out of my clothes and wash my face. I’m just me. I know he likes this. He told me so in one of his letters. Easing back on the bed, I hold the phone above my head and take a few shots. I scroll through them, and they’re okay, I guess. I’m not really sure what I’m going for because I’ve never done this.
I settle on one that shows my face. I’m staring at the camera, and my eyes are hooded. My bare breasts are on display, my hard nipples making themselves known. Before I can change my mind, I pull up our message thread.
Me: Missing you.
I attach the image and hit Send.
Tossing my phone onto the mattress, I stare up at the shadows on the ceiling. I never in a million years would have thought that sending a sexy picture would turn me on so much. I think it’s more of the fact that he’s going to see it. I wish I were there so I could see his face.
Cupping my breasts, I tug at my nipples, causing a moan to fill the silence of the room. Closing my eyes, I picture our wedding night. I pretend like it’s his hands roaming over my body. My hand finds its way to my aching clit.
I need the release.
I’m wet just from the thought of my husband. I wonder if he’d want to see that. See what he does to me, living thousands of miles away.
Without allowing myself to overthink what I’m doing, I spread my legs, reach for my phone and snap a picture. I’m not sure if it will come out, but when I glance at the screen, my breath hitches. The evidence of my arousal is obvious, even with the darkness of the image.
I dip my fingers inside, and my back arches off the bed. It’s not going to take long. I imagine that it’s my husband's expert yet calloused hands bringing me pleasure, and I detonate like a rocket. I’m panting, trying to catch my breath, and when I do, I snap another picture. I don’t think as I type out another message.