Yes Please || c.g. {complete}

"I'm Hot."

25

.Carl.

Layla and I decided to take the dogs to the park before I went to work. She and I sat on a bench while they played, and she opened a little cooler. She had made us sandwiches to eat; a relieving sign of a PG-rated outing for us. Eventually I knew I wouldn't hate myself for wanting to do R-rated things to her. I would have to struggle with those feelings for now, though, because my apprehension about intimacy really seemed to be hurting her. Talk about irony; not hurting her was the reason I gave myself for keeping my distance.

"Oh my god," I moaned approvingly as I bit into another one of her hipster ass creations.

She laughed. "You better make that same sound for me later when there's not a sandwich involved."

I choked a bit on the huge bite in my mouth. She's testing me right now. "What's on this?" I asked with my mouth full, grinning at her.

"Stop being gross," she laughed as covered my mouth with her hand. "Prosciutto, fresh mozzarella, tomato, basil, and balsamic vinaigrette."

My eyes widened. "You have got to be fucking kidding me!" I laughed, taking another bite. "I don't know what half that shit even is!" I mumbled.

She threw her head back in a fit of giggles.

"Seriously," I said as I swallowed. "If you only knew the basic level sandwiches I suffered through before yours..."

We continued to eat and laugh and flirt, and it was really nice. After we played fetch for a little bit with the dogs, I had to leave for work. I helped her get ready to go by leashing the dogs back up.

"Text me when you get home," I said, planting a chaste kiss on her lips.

She rolled her eyes, taking the leashes from me in one hand while she held the little cooler with the other. "Bye, Carl," she purred, turning and sauntering down the sidewalk in a way that made my jaw drop. She turned around and saw the way I was staring at her. She laughed and continued on her way.

.....

.Layla.

I felt victorious when I'd caught him staring at my ass. That was the Carl I knew and loved. This careful, good-boy, father-would-approve Carl needed to go.

When we got back to the apartment, I put the cooler on the kitchen counter and pulled my phone out. I was not into this overprotectiveness, because it was another sign that he couldn't see me as me right now. However, sending him a picture of me with our place in the background could accomplish two goals. It would satisfy his need to know I was okay, and satisfy my need to know I could still get a fucking rise out of him. At least I hoped so.

I pulled off my sweaty shirt in favor of being in only my bra, and I grinned as I got an idea. I flipped on the window unit and went over to the freezer to get a popsicle. I stood in front of the AC as it blew through my hair and cooled the sheen of sweat that glistened across my chest. I held the popsicle to my mouth, licking up the side of it. I held my phone out in front of myself to snap a picture. I sent it to him.

I'm hot. Trying to cool down. 💦👅

I saw the three dots appear then disappear several times.

You are trying to kill me. 😅😓😩

No, I'm trying to get you hard.

Jesus Christ. 🤦‍♂️

Is it working? 😉

He left it on "Read" for about five minutes before finally answering.