I wiped my mouth with my napkin even though I hadn’t eaten anything yet.
“The answer is no,” Adam said,
“You don’t know the question,” I protested.
“I just know nothing you’re feeling right now is wrong.”
I sat with that statement while I ate a bite of my sandwich. I didn’t taste it. My mind kept going back to the dark-pink head of Adam’s dick, a stainless steel hoop speared through it.
“Are you embarrassed?” he asked.
I thought about it, then shook my head. “No. Not at all.”
“What's going on in your mind, Adelaide?”
“Well…” I rubbed my lips together. “Now I’m wondering if you have more piercings.”
“I do, but I’d have to take my whole dick out to show you, and as fun as that would be, I don’t think I’m going to do that here.”
“Damn.”
“Do you want to see?”
I met his gaze. “Yes.”
“I’m not going to cross a line with you. I’m not fucking up what we have. Tell me if this line of conversation is crossing into territory we shouldn’t.”
“It’s not,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “I’m intrigued and my heart is still going a little crazy from almost getting caught.”
He rubbed his chin, then nodded once. “I’ll send you a picture. You can look at it or not. You decide.”
“That’s fair,” I replied. “Now?”
He snorted. “No, not now. I don’t know what you think of me, but I don’t walk around with dick pics locked and loaded on my phone. I’ll have to take one. Then I’ll send it when you least expect it.”
When I least expected it ended up being during a meeting at work. I was only taking notes—I was nowhere near important enough to speak—so I was tucked in a corner. My phone vibrated in my lap.
Adam:Delete after watching. Do not sell my dick to the tabloids. I’ll be mad, Baddie.
In my messages was a seven-second video. The first shot was of Adam’s hand. I didn’t press play in my meeting. Or when I got back to my desk. Or on the train ride home.
I left it unopened until I was home, in my bedroom, then I pressed play.
Adam’s fingers were wrapped around his length. He flicked the piercing in the head, then slid down to the base. There was another barbell there, nestled in his trimmed pubic hair. He flicked that too. Then he gave his cock a squeeze and the video started over.
Heat rushed between my thighs. With a whoosh of breath, I flopped back against my pillows and played the video again, noticing details the second time around. The head was an even deeper pink than it had looked earlier. The veins in his hand popped as he flexed. His cock jumped when he flicked the jewelry. All seven seconds were purely erotic.
My fingers drifted down my stomach and into my panties. The lace was so soaked, it was sticking to my lips. It had been so long since anything had hit my button—and this video had in a big way. But if I was being honest, I’d been wet since the restaurant.
Before I could touch myself, a text came in.
Adam:Gotta say, I’m feeling somewhat adrift here. You finally opened my text and it’s crickets. Did I fuck up?
My fingers were in my panties, on the cusp of stroking myself to my best friend’s dick video, and he thought he’d fucked up? If he had, then we both had.
But it was just a video. It wasn’t real. It was like watching porn, I just happened to know the star.
I held my phone up above me and took a shot of my stomach and panties. Nothing was exposed, but it was more than obvious where my hand was.