Be ready for what happens next

A moment later, Joe's typing bubble appears. She sets the phone face-down on her chest, staring at the ceiling, her pulse hammering so loud she can hear it in her ears. She doesn't know what she's done. She only knows she wants to see how he reacts.

Her phone finally buzzes almost immediately. She lifts it from her chest, the screen bright against the dark room. Joe's reply is already loading, and then it's there — a wall of text, hot and fast, the kind that makes her thighs press together beneath his hoodie.

Joe: "Holy shit. Izzy. I'm at my desk and I had to put my phone under the desk so no one sees me pitching a tent. That last one? The one with your finger— yeah. I've already cum twice in this break room. I can't stop thinking about you, about what I'd do to you if I were home right now. I need more. Now. Something even filthier. Show me what you look like when you're about to fall apart."

She reads it three times, her heart pounding, her cheeks burning. The phone trembles in her hand. He's at work, and he's cumming to her. To the photo Marcus picked as his favorite. The thought of that — of both of them having seen her like that — makes a slow, thick pulse settle low in her belly.

Her thumbs move before she can second-guess herself. She types back, her breathing shallow.

Izzy: "You liked it that much? Good. I was thinking about you the whole time, Joe. Wishing it was your hands instead of mine. You want to see me fall apart? I'll show you. But you better be ready for what I send next."

She hits send, then presses the phone to her chest, staring at the ceiling. Her body hums, caught somewhere between embarrassment and a hunger she's never felt this sharply before. She waits, thumb hovering over the screen, already planning the next photo.

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