Nothing But Thieves Imagines (Mature Content)

Missing - Conor - Part 2

MATURE SEXUAL CONTENT 18+ ONLY

--

Hey, love. I miss you.

It was Friday afternoon. You pulled your eyes from your computer screen to smile at the new message from Conor.

But before you could reply, more texts came through.

I miss your lips. I miss their sweet taste.

I can't wait to run my hands over every inch of your gorgeous body.

You breath hitched and you squeezed your legs together. He really did enjoy making this whole "agreement" hard for you. You bit your lip, thinking. How were you supposed to respond? Finally you did. 

Damn you, Conor.

You could picture his smirk as he typed.

What? Can I help it if I can't stop thinking about how badly I want you, how I want to get my mouth all over your neck? About how good I'm gonna make you feel, about how I'm not gonna stop until I make you see stars?

The three flashing dots taunted you, and you typed quickly, trying to cut him off before you lost your damn mind.

FUCKING STOP THIS NOW. I'm ignoring you, so I don't explode right here in the fucking office.

You shoved your phone in your bag, but it kept buzzing as you worked through the afternoon. It took all the willpower you had not to pull it out, lock yourself in the bathroom, and relieve all your tensions.

When you finally checked your messages, that evening in the confines of your flat, you had to stand under a cold shower for a good 15 minutes.

How did you ever agree to this ridiculous idea, you thought irritatedly as you stepped out, wringing out your hair.

Then an evil idea struck you.

Through the steam, you could see your reflection in the full-length mirror, beads of cold water still glistening on your body, making every curve taut and firm.

You grabbed your phone and, placing a hand casually on your hip, snapped a photo.

You inspected it. The gauzy mist on the mirror stopped it short of being x-rated...but only just.

You licked your lips wickedly and hit send to Conor.

Hey babe. These messages, wow. They made me so...hot. Look what I had to do without you.

Almost immediately the three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again, and disappeared.

When his response finally came, you grinned ear to ear.

FUCKING HELL.

--

You were so on edge you were bouncing from one leg to the other.

You checked the arrivals board for what felt like the millionth time. Conor's plane was an hour late.

No big deal, you thought bitterly, slumping into a chair. Just another hour in what had been ten of the longest days of your life.

Conor had been quiet for a little while after those racy texts, but then had picked up again with them, dropping them here and there like little grenades to completely wreck your concentration at any hour of the day.

These last 24 hours you had reached a permanent state of hot and horny mess, and your body ached all over for Conor.

Now, you finally spotted him approaching from the arrivals gate. Your heart jumped into your throat, and you waved enthusiastically.