SEXT ME

by Layla Valentine

  Now, though, things were different. Cole was retiring from the Navy, looking for a job that didn’t mean putting his life in danger every step of the way.

  He would’ve laughed to see himself now, years ago. He’d never wanted an ordinary life. He’d thought desk jobs were for people who lacked imagination and guts. Now he was angling to get one.

  Though working for a security firm was a far cry from any old desk job.

  The stranger thing by far was how captivated Cole found himself with Ivy. She was the whole package. Beautiful inside and out. He could talk to her all day and not run out of things to say. And he had a sneaking suspicion that he could absolutely lose himself in her body. That he’d never get tired of all the various positions and combinations when they were naked together, not a single barrier between their bodies.

  He had things to do, though. Business to attend to—wrapping up his career in the Navy and looking toward his future. Working at a security firm in D.C. had been one of the main draws to moving back here. Now, though, everything chafed at him. They all felt like distractions away from Ivy.

  In an effort to do something other than think about her, Cole finally got his resume out to dust off and polish up. He hadn’t needed one of these since a high-school stint in a restaurant kitchen. He had to laugh at some of the things he’d put on it, like “ability to multitask,” based on passing notes in class with friends while pretending to pay attention to the teacher. Yes, this entire thing needed to be revamped. It was probably better to start from scratch.

  He cracked open his laptop and made a new document, listing his education and training experiences. His fingers hovered over the keyboard before he grinned, reaching for his phone.

  “What’s better?” he typed. “‘Pays close attention to detail’, or ‘always punctual’?” He sent it to Ivy, and was surprised to get the indication she was typing back. He must’ve gotten lucky, catching her while she was looking at her phone.

  “That all depends on the context,” she sent back. “I thought you paid very close attention to me, and you were very punctual in making me come.”

  Cole laughed aloud. “I guess they’re both equally important, then. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “What are you working on?”

  “Resume.”

  “Planning on handing it to the security company guy on the night of the ball?”

  “No. Should I?” He frowned. That would probably be too forward. Come off a little too eager. He wanted to give the impression that he was genuinely interested in a position with the firm, not that he was desperate for a job.

  “Probably not,” Ivy texted. “But it’s good to have it ready, just in case he asks you to apply.”

  “Just what I was thinking.”

  “Great minds. Make sure to include just how good you are with your mouth.”

  Cole laughed. “I don’t think that would be something I’d want my potential boss to know about me.”

  “I think it’s one of your best qualities. Good with mouth, good with hands, good with cock.”

  He grinned, his cock stirring at that ringing endorsement. “Maybe I’ll make another resume to send to you.”

  “Whatever position you’re applying for, you already have it,” Ivy replied. “No resume required.”

  Cole shook his head admiringly. Maybe he’d been waiting all his life to meet someone like Ivy. Going back and forth with her via text messages was just as good as talking to her in person. Her voice shone through the words, and she didn’t rely on emojis to do her emoting for her.

  He’d just never met a woman he’d wanted talk to for hours on end, as well as spend every waking moment with. Ivy was the full package. It stunned him to realize it, to realize how much he liked her given the short amount of time he’d actually known her. Cole realized that there was maybe a little more to all those love at first sight stories he’d discounted from various people over the years.

  “Can’t wait to see you again,” he sent. “I don’t know if I’m looking forward to the ball or to you.”

  “It’s all I’ve been able to think about,” Ivy texted back, and Cole had to let out a breath at the jolt of recognition. There was something there if she was thinking about him as often as he was thinking about her. He just didn’t want to get his hopes up. He didn’t even realize he had hopes for something like this. He wished there was some kind of class he could take on knowing when he was ready for these kinds of feelings. A point he could emphasize on his resume.

  Against his better judgment, Cole opened up his email and fired a quick message off to Jason. He didn’t expect a reply anytime soon. There was no real way of knowing just how long a mission would last. But if Jason did get a chance to check his email while he was abroad, at least he’d have something to laugh at. Because this entire thing? Cole twisted up in knots over a woman he hadn’t known a week yet? It was laughable.

  “There’s this girl,” he’d written. “Gorgeous. Blond hair, green eyes. Keeps up with me both in bed and out of it. How do you know when it’s past the realm of infatuation and into really having feelings for someone? Asking for a friend.”

  He sent it before he could think too much about it, even if he was overthinking this whole thing. He shouldn’t feel like he had to put a label on anything, especially not at this point.

  Just because he had a connection with someone didn’t mean it was true love. It probably had more to do with the fact that Cole’s Navy career was ending, that his life was transitioning into something different. He wouldn’t have access to any of those other girls all over the world anymore. Not if he wasn’t going abroad for missions as a SEAL. Ivy just happened to be the first person he’d really hit it off with in his time in D.C.

  Only time would tell how everything would play out. And it felt like there were too many minutes between now and the military ball for him to accept.

  Cole glanced at his phone again, unable to keep from it. He reread Ivy’s last message: “It’s all I’ve been able to think about.”

  “Me too,” he typed, hesitating just a moment before sending it.

  Chapter 9

  Ivy

  Ivy hadn’t been joking about the invite to the ball being a great excuse to go shopping. She literally had nothing she could wear for such a formal event. If Ivy wasn’t wearing scrubs and a lab coat in some of her more hands-on classes at school, she was in comfy jeans and a sweatshirt at lectures or running around the city on various errands. At home, it was always pajamas. Especially when she was lounging on the couch, working on Whisper Line.

  She remembered some of the initial literature she’d read when she was first getting into the sexting trade, saying that it was helpful for some operators to get into the mood of things by lighting candles and slipping into some sexy lingerie, but that wasn’t Ivy. She could turn her carnal appetites on and off, for the most part, like flipping a switch.

  It probably had more to do with having a pretty healthy appetite to begin with than anything else. The fact that it was always on, buzzing low in the background of most interactions. She wasn’t blind to the handsome guys vying to become doctors right alongside her in class, or the way they looked at her, wondering which, if any, of them was going to be the first to make it with her.

  She wished they’d saved their energy for their studies. That was what she was doing, at least. She wasn’t opposed to some casual dating, especially when it meant that she’d get some physical pleasure out of it. But she couldn’t devote the time required to have a real relationship with anyone. She was too busy.

  And none of the guys at her school were really her type, anyway. Pale, skinny, and terrible gossips.

  No, she’d been lucky to find the dress she’d worn on her first date with Cole in the back of her closet, a little musty from disuse. Ivy knew that, as much as she wished it to be true, she wasn’t going to dig deep enough in her drawers and come up with a ball gown.

  That’s how she found herself at a gorgeous—b
ut pricey—boutique, leafing through a rack of sparkling dresses, trying not to grimace at the price tags while under the watchful eye of a saleswoman.

  “You should go with something green—maybe this emerald one?” The saleswoman pulled a floor-length strapless number with thousands of shimmering sequins on it. “It’ll bring out your eyes.”

  “I don’t know,” Ivy hedged. “I think that dress is a little too glamorous for me.”

  “No such thing,” the saleswoman said, laughing. “I’ll put it in the dressing room for you.”

  Ivy sighed and continued browsing the selection. The gowns were expensive, sure, but she could afford one. It wasn’t that notion that was giving her the hang-up. It was the idea she was about to drop a bunch of money on a dress she’d only wear once. She appreciated the glitz of the green dress the saleswoman had pulled aside, but Ivy knew it would be a one-hit wonder. Where in the world would she even have the opportunity to wear it again?

  “So, what’s the big occasion?” The saleswoman had sidled back up to her. “Let me guess. Some kind of congressional gala. A fundraiser, or something, for a senator? I think taxpayers would just be shocked by the amount of partying that happens on their dime.”

  “Nothing like that,” Ivy said quickly. “Just a ball.”

  “Oh, the military ball.” The woman laughed again, a merry, tinkling sound that danced up and down the musical scale, at Ivy’s jaw dropping open. “Don’t look so shocked. As big as D.C. is, it’s got an awfully small-town feel. If it’s not lawmaking, it’s military. And if it’s not either of those things, it’s the press.”

  “I don’t really have anything to wear to it,” Ivy confessed. “Nothing anywhere near formal enough.”

  “Yes, the ball’s a whole production,” the saleswoman said. “Even if you are leaving it to the last minute. Don’t worry. We’ll get you fixed up.”

  Soon, Ivy found herself crammed into a dressing room with no less than twenty gowns to try on. She hadn’t been this overwhelmed since she’d first observed a surgeon performing brain surgery.

  It was her own fault, she figured. She couldn’t name a style or color preference to make it any easier for the saleswoman to find particular types of dresses for her, so she more or less raked all the dresses in Ivy’s size off the rack and hung them up in the dressing room.

  The first number Ivy pulled on—a hot pink, ruffled dress with an asymmetrical hem—made her laugh out loud at her reflection.

  “Find a good one?” the saleswoman called from the other side of the door. “I can be a second opinion, if you like.”

  “Um, that’s okay,” Ivy said, thinking fast. “I’ll let you know if I need another size or anything, though.”

  This dress was a definite no—gaudy and loud and decidedly not her. Still, Ivy couldn’t resist snapping a photo of herself with an overly bright, borderline manic grin to match the ridiculous dress she was wearing.

  She sent it to Cole along with a brief message. “Found my dress for the ball.”

  His response was almost immediate, and made her pause in changing to the next dress. “I’m a lucky man.”

  Ivy snorted as she tried to muffle her mirth. “Seriously?” she typed back. “This isn’t anything near the dress I’d choose to wear.”

  “I…totally knew that,” he sent back. “Totally knew.”

  Ivy grinned and shook her head, shimmying into a blue beaded dress that was so tight it left precious little to the imagination. She sent Cole a snapshot of that one, too. “Yes, or yes?”

  “Please tell me that’s actually the one,” Cole replied. “Please. I’ll do anything.”

  Ivy had to do a lot of twisting and holding her breath to release her body out of the dress. “Absolutely not,” she finally sent back. “I barely escaped that one. There would be no breathing in that thing.”

  “I’d unwrap you like a present,” he texted her. “I’d do all your breathing for you.”

  Ivy bit her lip, considering what that might entail. A slow thrill of arousal slipped up her spine, and as she got into the next dress, her phone buzzed again.

  “I take it you’re getting naked, over and over again, in a small, poorly enclosed room right now?” Cole sent.

  “Pretty much the definition of shopping,” she replied, then sent another photo of her in a lemon-yellow getup. “Here comes the sun.”

  “Where exactly are you?” he sent her. “I could be there in five, no matter where it is.”

  She grinned, formulating her response. “I’m sure there’s got to be some rule about not seeing your date before the ball.”

  “I could try to keep my eyes closed,” he replied. “My sense of touch could compensate.”

  “You’d miss out on seeing me in all these crazy dresses,” Ivy typed. “That’s the whole point of shopping.”

  “Then I humbly submit my application to help you pick out a dress.”

  “Denied. We both know you wouldn’t be a fair judge.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I’m sure you’re much more interested in what’s underneath.”

  “Caught me.”

  “Knew it.”

  Ivy paused after adjusting a simple black dress to fit her frame. This was a nice one. Simple, minimalistic, elegant. There wasn’t a sparkle or spangle on it. It was form fitting, off the shoulder, flaring out a little as it fell to the floor. It wasn’t the sexiest thing in the store, but something told her that this was the dress. If she accessorized right, did a good job on her hair and makeup, she could really make this work for her.

  And she might just make an impression on Cole, too.

  “Found the dress,” she sent him, this time without an accompanying photo. “Tonight’s looking up.”

  Her phone rang and she grinned as she answered it. “You’re just going to have to wait until the night of to see that last one. I’m not giving you any more sneak peeks.”

  “Ivy, honey?”

  Ivy yelped and yanked the phone away from her ear to check just who, exactly, was calling her. “Mom?”

  “Did I catch you in the middle of something?”

  Ivy thought fast. “I just hadn’t realized I’d answered the phone. I was talking to…to someone. I mean, myself. You caught me at work, actually.” This was spiraling out of her control.

  “Oh, I didn’t know the restaurant was open this early,” her mom said, voice innocent. “Are they doing a new lunch special, or something?”

  Ivy did a quick check of the time and inwardly berated herself. She’d told her parents before, for whatever reason, that most of the time, she worked nights and that the restaurant was only open for dinner. It was one of the kernels of truth she’d thrown to them, because with most of her classes in the day, she did work Whisper Line at night. She had screwed up by claiming to be in work at this time of day.

  “Yeah, it’s a summer thing,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. She needed to make notes on the web of lies she’d ensnared herself and her parents in just so she could keep them all straight. “Temporary. They’re trying to see if people want luxury lunches.”

  “Well, I’d think that’s a given,” her mom said. “Plenty of people with lunch meetings, I’m sure. I suppose I’m just surprised they don’t already offer lunch service. Or that you haven’t taken us out there whenever we’re in town, visiting you.”

  Ivy tried to tamp down the spike of anxiety that shot through her body at that. Her parents had come up to D.C. a couple of times, but so far, she’d been able to steer them clear of the restaurant using a variety of techniques she wasn’t proud of.

  “You know how it is,” she said. “Not wanting to see the same place you report to night after night when you finally get some time off from it.”

  “Is there anything going on that you’re not telling us about, Ivy?” her mom asked.

  She bit her lip. “Why would you ask me that?”

  “You just sound…different. I don’t know how to explain it. But you can
talk to us about anything. I hope you know that.”

  The things that Ivy wanted to talk about she’d never burden her parents with. They’d be shocked if they ever found out about Whisper Line, and would probably blame themselves even if there wasn’t anything to blame anybody about. Ivy wasn’t ashamed of what she did to put herself through medical school, but she wasn’t about to open up to her parents about it.

  “No, well, I’m going to this party tonight,” she said, cringing a little bit. It was easier to fib to her parents about the quirks in her life if she could find a few kernels of truth to throw their way. “It’s actually kind of a dance.”

  “Hey, that sounds fun,” her mom said, upbeat. “You going with a group of friends from school or work?”

  Ivy didn’t have the heart to inform her mom that she didn’t have friends from either of those spheres. “I’m going with this guy.”

  “A friend?”

  “Sort of.”

  “A boyfriend?”

  She laughed even as her face heated. “Mom, come on.”

  “You never tell us anything about your personal life,” she said. “Can you blame me for chasing after the breadcrumbs you actually drop?”

  “I’m trying to save myself the interrogation,” she said. “He’s just a guy…friend.”

  “That’s a synonym for boyfriend, you know.”

  “But without all the baggage that comes with boyfriend,” Ivy said. “It’s a military ball. He’s a Navy SEAL.”

  “Is that right?” her mom asked, audibly impressed. “Oh, I bet he’s cute. Would you get someone to take some pictures of you two tonight? I’d love to see you all dressed up, for a change. And with a handsome man on your arm.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Ivy said, having no intention of doing any such thing. She wasn’t even sure why she’d told her mom about the ball beyond the fact that she’d been under extreme duress. It wasn’t like Cole and her were going to last. What would she even tell her parents when they inevitably asked her where she met him? On Whisper Line? Even Cole wasn’t aware of that.