SEXT ME - A Steamy SEAL Romance

by Layla Valentine

  Her coming was just too sweet to miss.

  He loved the way she bit her bottom lip sometimes, trying to hold back the deep, long moans as pleasure found her. The way her cheeks would get rosy at that secret, intense unfurling inside of her. And Cole got the most out of knowing that he helped her get there. That her completion was his. It drove him right over the edge, and it was worth having at least a modicum of control over his own passions.

  Of course, there were little things he could do. Little tricks he’d picked up along the way to push her further faster.

  He employed one of those tricks now, working his hand in between them, parting Ivy’s lips so that every time she sank downward, she stimulated her clit on his thumb. He didn’t even have to work at it, knew exactly how to slot his digit in to make it good for her. It was a testament to just how much they had learned about each other’s bodies in the short time they’d known each other. And it was knowledge he wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

  Ivy was tossing her head back, crying out, throaty, her inner walls squeezing him. It was all Cole could do to hang on, to ride out her climax and roll into his, unable to keep from groaning in between his gritted teeth, every single one of his muscles going limp as his entire body seeped into afterglow.

  “You are impossible,” Ivy told him, kissing his sweaty forehead.

  “Just happy,” he said, eyes closed.

  “We’re going to have to take a shower before dinner, now,” she pointed out. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Starved.” He kissed each of her breasts before finally regaining the strength to look at her. She was always so beautiful after she came. It was a sight he would never get tired of. “I could even take a second helping in the shower.”

  “At that rate, we’ll never eat.”

  It was nice, just being inside of her. Comforting, even. And even with Ivy’s teasing about dinner, and with the delicious-smelling food waiting for them on the table, neither of them made a move to separate.

  It was getting harder and harder to do, spending time away from her. Cole wished there was some kind of rulebook on how soon was too soon to ask somebody to move in together. His head told him it was too soon. He suspected Jason would, too, if he offered his opinion. But Cole’s heart said something different in the way it leapt every time he saw Ivy. And in the way it fell every time they were apart again.

  A vibration cut into their shared mellowness, and Ivy sighed. “I think that’s my phone.”

  “Leave it.”

  She kissed him again, light and playful, before gently extricating herself. Instead of getting her phone, though, she simply flopped down on the couch cushion beside him. “I don’t even feel like taking a shower.”

  “So don’t.”

  She snorted. “I’m sticky. So are you.”

  “It’s just us. I don’t care if you don’t.”

  Her phone buzzed again, and she darted a glance over there. “Huh.”

  “Do you need to get that?”

  “No.” But she pressed her lips together when it buzzed again, interrupting their quiet moment of contentment. Another buzz. And then another.

  “Who in the hell’s so insistent on getting your attention?” he asked.

  She laughed gently, laying her arm on his. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get around to answering them eventually. Probably just my parents.”

  But that damn phone wouldn’t stop. Cole counted the number of new vibrations, the two of them still trying to catch their breaths, drifting down from their afterglow. Three new messages. Then five. Eight.

  “Are your parents having an emergency?” he asked. “Do you want me to go get you your phone?”

  “No, no,” Ivy said quickly. “Seriously. Don’t worry about it. I’ll switch it to silent. Just stay here with me.”

  He would’ve, and he wanted to. But that damn phone was so offensively loud. It was hard to think about anything else, to enjoy the warm cocoon of pleasure he should’ve been dwelling in. Because who needed Ivy more than he needed her right now, in this moment?

  “That thing’s buzzing so regularly I bet I could use it to make you come again,” he said, laughing, as he pushed himself up off the couch. He staggered a little. That orgasm had taken more out of him than he’d suspected. “Want to try?”

  “Cole, just leave the phone. I’ll turn it off.”

  “I think it’ll be fun.” He reached the phone just as Ivy rocketed off the couch, her face a mask of panic, reaching out to him. That puzzled him—what was she so worried about? It buzzed again as he held it, and when he looked down, Cole’s mouth dropped open.

  Because that particular text message was simply the latest in a long string of filthy sexts from multiple numbers.

  Ivy snatched the phone from him. “I told you to forget about it, Cole.”

  “I should’ve listened,” he said quietly, feeling like his heart was breaking. “Or, I don’t know, maybe this is for the best. Because we don’t have to do this anymore. I can walk away before we get any deeper.”

  “It’s not what it looks like,” she said, clutching the phone to her chest.

  “Those aren’t a ton of sexts from people who aren’t me?”

  She bit her lip. “I mean, they are, but there’s a good explanation.”

  “If you hadn’t wanted to make what we’re doing official, you could’ve said.” Cole just felt really, really tired. Exhausted. Like if he went back to his apartment and fell into his bed, he might not wake up for days. “Why’d you tell me yes?”

  “Because I wanted to be with you,” she said. “I still do. If you’d just stop and let me explain.”

  Cole hadn’t even realized he was doing up his jeans, buckling his belt, until Ivy said so. It was the same kind of automatic response his body had done on missions. Getting him out of bad situations even if his mind wasn’t altogether there. It was a self-sustaining autopilot, and it was trying to evacuate him from Ivy’s apartment.

  “I think it would be best,” he began carefully, “if I left right now.” Because he didn’t fully understand what was happening, and he didn’t think he wanted to. Not with his heart in danger of fragmenting into far too many irretrievable pieces. He didn’t think he could handle it.

  “Please,” she said, and he flinched away from that bullet. He couldn’t stand the begging. He wanted to beg her not to do this to him.

  Instead, he finished pulling on his clothes, each piece of fabric a shield keeping her out and him in, and walked out the door.

  Chapter 13

  Ivy

  Ivy had never felt bad about working for Whisper Line. It was funding her dream to become a doctor. It was helping her give back to her parents, who had sacrificed so much to help her get as far as she had. Her work with Whisper Line helped her pay the bills, for God’s sake.

  But it had also ruined the best relationship she’d ever had.

  She was going to tell him. That’s what the whole dinner date was for. But they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off of each other, and now everything was a mess. How could she explain herself now that Cole thought the worst of her?

  Her first inclination had been to run screaming down the street after Cole, but she’d narrowly avoided embarrassing the both of them. The thing that stopped her in her tracks was the idea that everything would be better if she could just explain herself. But what would she say? That she was a sex worker? That none of those disgusting text messages were from men she would ever see in person? That Cole, too, had once been one of those anonymous blips on her phone?

  None of it sounded good, and Ivy had sagged back down onto the couch, devastated that she couldn’t figure out an optimistic outcome for coming clean.

  She couldn’t imagine that Cole would want to be with her after learning the truth, and the fact that she kept it from him for so long. She just wished he hadn’t found out this way, and only half the story at that.

  God, what he probably thought of her. That she was
entertaining a bunch of different assholes all at once. That she was some kind of sociopath, collecting men, leading them on.

  Her second inclination was to try to text him, but she had such a sour taste in her mouth when she reached for the phone that she couldn’t manage it. That damn phone had been the source of all her problems, even if it had originally introduced her to Cole. She wondered how it had happened. If it had been a drunken decision on his part that he just didn’t remember, getting connected to her through Whisper Line.

  Her third inclination was to rage against Whisper Line. Because if they’d ever get their software to work and actually register the time off from the service Ivy requested, she could’ve avoided all of this—Cole finding out too much information with too little context, and all of it too soon. She wasn’t going to omit the truth to him any longer. She was going to tell him.

  Hands shaking with fury, stomach roiling, Ivy pulled on her clothes and dialed Whisper Line’s help hotline. There was some steamy, pre-recorded dialogue designed to redirect potential customers who had just misdialed, but once Ivy punched in the right combination of numbers and waited to the tune of some sultry beats, she was speaking to a representative.

  “This is Candice,” the woman said. “Can I direct you to one of our many sexy operators waiting to talk with you all night?”

  “No, my name is Ivy, and—”

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter if you’re a woman,” Candice said. “Our operators are both men and women, and can easily fulfill your fantasy no matter what it is.”

  “I am one of those operators,” Ivy said. “This is the help hotline, isn’t it?”

  “Please give me your ten-digit operator code to confirm,” Candice said briskly, her tone suddenly less lisping and more businesslike. Ivy dutifully recited it. “Ivy Lightfoot?”

  “Yes.”

  “How can I help you?”

  “I need to know why my requests for no clients to my direct line haven’t gone through,” she said, hyper aware of just how high and tight her voice was. She fought for control. It obviously wasn’t Candice’s fault.

  “Do you no longer wish to be an operator?”

  “No, that isn’t the issue. The issue is when I need to take a break from receiving clients on my direct line, I fill out the online form, but the messages still make it through. This has happened twice now.”

  “I apologize for any inconvenience,” Candice said, and then Ivy really lost it.

  “Let me tell you just how many inconveniences there have been,” she raged. “The first one was while I was studying for my final exams. I’m in med school. I don’t need any more distractions than I already have. And the second one was when I was going to tell my boyfriend, whom I love, about me working at Whisper Line. It’s a hell of a thing, Candice, for someone to discover there’s something fishy going on in a relationship by discovering a twenty-line string of texts from horny assholes on your phone.”

  Candice was silent for a long time. “Your boyfriend didn’t know you worked as a phone sex operator?”

  “No,” Ivy said hotly, even if she did feel pretty defensive. “I mean, it didn’t come up. There’s the whole med school thing.”

  “But you were hiding it from him?”

  “No!” Ivy paced around her apartment, agitated. It was none of Candice’s business. “He never asked. I never told.”

  “That’s still lying.”

  “There wasn’t an easy way to say it,” Ivy said, sitting down hard in one of the chairs at the table. She stared at one of the sputtering candle flames before blowing both of them out. “Things were complicated.”

  “He wouldn’t have supported your work?”

  “I don’t know. I guess there’s no way of knowing, anymore.”

  Candice cleared her throat. “So do you want to quit Whisper Line? I pulled up the forms, and I can talk you through them.”

  “No, I don't want to quit.”

  “You sure?” Candice sounded surprised.

  “It’s paying for med school.” Ivy just wished that her financial security hadn’t come at the cost of her happiness. Her love for Cole.

  “Get it, girl.” And now Candice sounded impressed. “Make that money. Don’t let any man hold you down.”

  Ivy heaved a sigh, poking at the now-cold bruschetta on the platter in front of her. “Money isn’t everything, Candice. You can make money anywhere. Love is different.”

  “That’s deep.”

  “It’s true.” Ivy eyed the thin tendrils of smoke spiraling up toward the ceiling. “So, any chance of Whisper Line improving on requests for no direct-line access?”

  “I’ll register your complaint,” Candice said dutifully. “And if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.”

  Ivy blinked, confused. “Whisper Line getting their shit together about my time-off requests?”

  “Your boyfriend accepting what you do. It’ll work out, or it won’t. No reason to stress about it. If he really didn’t support your work, would you have actually wanted to stay with him? Would you have quit Whisper Line if he’d demanded it?”

  “I guess I won’t find out,” Ivy said.

  “Unless he comes back, and the two of you hash this mess out.”

  “That’s true. Candice?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Good luck.”

  Ivy couldn’t say how much faith she had in customer service, but the angry desperation that had filled her chest had dissipated. Now, she was just sad. Sad that Cole didn’t understand what was going on. Sad that she wasn’t sure how to tell him—or if he’d even want to hear an explanation. Sad that she’d cooked all this food and now couldn’t even stomach the sight of it.

  Part of her wanted to simply dump everything in the garbage, but she wasn’t wasteful. She slid everything into plastic containers and put it in the fridge. Maybe she would be hungry for it later.

  Ivy jumped as her phone rang, and she hurried to the table, where she’d left it, certain it was Cole.

  “Hello?” she blurted.

  “Hi, Ivy-bear,” her dad said. “How’s it going?”

  “All right,” she allowed, sagging and disappointed. It was like her dad had a parenting radar that alerted him to something bad going on in her life. She really didn’t feel like talking, but there was no real way to get around it without arousing suspicion. “Enjoying the break from school.”

  Her dad paused. “Are you? You sound a little down.”

  Ivy cleared her throat. “I’m not down. Just a little tired today.” If her dad could hear her despair over the phone, she wasn’t doing a very good job at pretending everything was all right. The last thing she wanted to do was give her parents cause to worry about her.

  “What’ve you been up to?”

  “Picking up some extra shifts at work,” she said, and that wasn’t a lie. She was always able to do more work with Whisper Line over the summer. It was a great way to be able to sock a little money away in her savings. Of course, Whisper Line had royally screwed her over today, so there was that.

  “You need to take some time for yourself, too, you know,” her dad said. “If you’re tired, especially over the summer, you’re working too hard. You already work yourself to the bone during the school year. Take care of yourself, Ivy. Your mom and I are too far away to help you out with that. We worry about you.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t want you to worry about me. I’ll be… I’m just fine. Really.”

  Her dad did something unexpected. He laughed. “Ivy-bear, parents worry about their children. It’s what they do. It’s my job to worry about you.”

  “You and Mom have enough on your plates without having to think about me,” she said. “I’m not a little kid anymore.” She wasn’t sure why he thought her concerns were funny. She worried herself sick trying to save the both of them from stress about her life.

  “You’re always going to be our child. It doesn’t matter how old you are. It’s
just a parent thing. Why don’t you tell me what’s been going on?”

  For a brief moment, Ivy seriously considered completely unloading. Telling her dad absolutely everything. Whisper Line. How she’d never worked at a restaurant before. Being in love with someone she hadn’t known for very long, and that someone discovering the sexts on her phone. And now all of the self-doubt and self-loathing that was piling up around her.

  It was a series of revelations that would’ve been brutal and cathartic and completely unfair to lay at her dad’s feet. Ivy wasn’t about to tell her entire truth—no matter how serious her dad was about her being able to tell him anything.

  “Are you having money problems?” her dad asked, trying to take another stab at what was eating at Ivy. “Is that why you’ve been working so hard at the restaurant? Did your rent go up? Expensive books for next semester? If you need some help, please tell us. We’d be more than happy to send you a little money, especially if you’re struggling. All you have to do is say so.”

  Ivy sighed heavily. “I don’t need any money, Dad. And I know what you and mom did for me during college.”

  “What do you mean?” her dad asked, obviously puzzled.

  “You guys spent all of your money on me,” she said. “And you were willing to go into even more debt to put me through med school.”

  “Ivy, that’s just what parents are for.” Her dad sounded a little exasperated. “We want to make sure you’re happy and successful. We’ll spend money to make that happen.”

  “That worry door swings both ways, you know,” she said. “And I didn’t want you all to lose the house because of me.”

  Her dad was quiet for so long that she checked her phone to make sure she hadn’t dropped the call.

  “That’s not something you need to concern yourself with,” he said. “I’m sorry that you found out about it. You need to focus on your own things. You’re going to be a doctor, for God’s sake. Your mother and I would’ve gladly given up the house, the cars, the clothes off our backs to see that dream realized. We’re so proud of you.”