Chapter 22 #2
While I wait for De Leon to return, I flip over to our app and check the rewards she’s earned.
She’s having a great day so far, even though it’s still morning for her.
She’s already gotten twenty points for exercising, ten points for getting eight hours of sleep, five points for eating a balanced breakfast, and four points for drinking her water.
She’s gotten three “good girl” chibis and is about to get a full growl chibi when she earns one more point.
She’s sent me a sleepy chibi when she woke up, the adorable “Flashdance Cynnie” chibi with its leg warmers and ponytails after she exercised, and happy chibis every few hours.
She hasn’t gotten any penalties today. She deserves some serious Oppa-time.
Although we talk two or three times a day and text back and forth constantly, I still feel slightly out of touch with her.
Phone sex is hard with De Leon lurking all the damn time, but we’ve managed it twice.
I’m not worried about her, not exactly, it’s just that she hasn’t had much opportunity to be little.
Not like the sustained little-time she has when she stays with me.
To say nothing about our “big” night to unload her worries.
While the app gives a little of that back to her, I’m getting desperate for more “face” time with my bumble.
I open the app on my phone and start working on a bonus reward level. I’m deep in it when De Leon says, from over my shoulder, “What the fuck is that?”
I tip my head from side to side until my neck cracks, to keep from throwing an elbow or a fist at him.
Sneaking up on me is less of an issue than it was a few years ago, but he’s still tempting fate.
And I didn’t sit with my back to the door—I never do—so he had to circle around to come up behind me.
Which definitely earns him an elbow in the face the next time.
“It’s an app for my girl.” I never use Cynnie’s name around De Leon, even though I know he knows it. I don’t want him thinking about her. “Encourages her to take care of herself when I’m not around. Rewards her for doing things like eating regularly.”
I tuck my phone away and rise. De Leon watches me, his brow furrowed, and I’m not sure what’s puzzling him—the app or that I’d need to create something to encourage my girlfriend to eat three squares a day—but what I am absolutely sure of is that I’m sick of his questions.
“Half-hour,” I remind him. “Maybe forty minutes.”
He nods before passing me an old-fashioned metal key and sitting back down to finish his pie.
I grab my bag and take it up with me. The room’s not fancy—no coffee pod machine here—but it’s comfortable and, for once, warm.
I strip off my bullet-resistant hoodie and crash down across one of the beds.
Before I call Cynnie, I arrange the pillows, pull out my tripod and set my phone in it so my hands are free, and grab some lotion and tissues.
Tissues are something that haven’t been in short supply at any of the places we’ve stayed.
Probably because this country is so chilly everyone has a perpetual sniffle.
Cynnie answers as soon as I call her. She’s in her bedroom, which is not a little’s bedroom in any way except for a line of three stuffies on her bed.
Everything else is tasteful but austere: white wood in modern lines, soft furnishings in pale grays.
There’s a canvas of autumnal trees on the wall above the headboard, which is pretty but not Cynnie at all.
My chest aches every time I see her room.
She should be smothered in stuffies. Swaddled in soft, furry fabrics.
She should have the cherry blossoms and bright daisies she loves on every wall.
I want to give that to my bumble. We didn’t buy comfortable chairs for my dining room or art for my walls before I left for England. We’re definitely shopping when I get back.
“Hey, my baby,” I say when she smiles at me.
“Oppa! I’z missed you so much! Where were you?”
“I had a crazy adventure today and had to change hotels, but I’m all settled now, and this new place is even warm. Isn’t it nice?” I pan the phone around so she can see the room with its two twin beds and small seating area by the window.
“It looks very nice,” she says, her lisp gone. “Why did you have to change hotels?”
“I don’t want to worry you, baby. It’s all good now.”
Her fine brows beetle. “The bad guys found you?”
I nod.
Her eyes sheen. “Please be careful.”
“I am being. Promise. And you know I think De Leon’s certifiable, but he knows his stuff.
He got me clear as soon as I spotted the tail.
The guy watching my vitals contacted me immediately and I got in touch with Logan, so he knows what’s going on, too.
I have a lot of people watching my back. I’m as safe as I can be.”
She nods but looks down. Although they’re out of frame so I can’t see them, I bet she’s twisting her fingers together, something she does when she’s nervous.
“Tell me something good that happened today,” I say, to divert her.
“Nothin’ until now,” she says. Her eyes are still downcast, but her adorable lisp is back.
“I know that’s not true because you’ve already earned three good girls and are about to earn a growl.”
A smile peeps out. “I love our app. You’z never named it?”
“I didn’t.” I slap myself on the forehead. “How could I not have named it?”
“I think of names while you gone. Keep me busy.”
“What else have you been doing?”
She shrugs. “I made lunch for Baachan, one of her recipes, and she said it was perfect.”
“That’s my very good girl. I’m proud of you for doing nice things for your family.
” I don’t get into her grandmother praising the food’s perfection.
That’s something I want to get Cynnie away from—she doesn’t need to be perfect—what’s more important is trying to shore up her relationships with her family.
“How’s your project for Orionex coming?”
“Another two days, I be done. Won’t be late.”
“See, there’s another good thing.”
She tips her head to the side and squints at me. “The really good thing’s talking to my Oppa.”
“How about we do more than talk? Do you have some privacy?”
She grins. “House’s empty.”
“Take off that shirt, baby, and let me see those sweet tits that belong to me.”
She shivers and grins. “Yes, Oppa.”
She takes a moment to set her phone on a stand and get her vibrator, which is a plain, plastic bullet. I offered to get her a rabbit, but she said she only wanted me inside her, which made my chest explode with emotions I still don’t have names for. Daddyness is the closest I can come.
While she’s getting situated, I pull off my shirt and make sure she’s got a good view of my torso.
She’s been adorably shy about watching me masturbate while we’ve been apart.
I know she’s turned on by it; she turns the sweetest golden-pink.
Even her little ears flush. But she’s so embarrassed she has to peek through her fingers to watch.
She’s seen my body many, many times. She’s not shy about sex.
But something about being apart and doing it on camera turns her into a blushing rose. It makes my blood rage.
To enhance her discomfiture, I open the fly on the black trousers I wore to interview Tilly Mitchell but don’t take them off.
I adjust myself so my boxers are peeking through the fly, a spot of moisture darkening the fabric as I watch her shyly unbutton the shirt she’s wearing—is that one of my white dress shirts?
I think it is—and take off the camisole and bra she’s wearing underneath.
Her breasts are just fucking pretty. I never thought of myself as a breast-man until I saw Cynnie’s.
Round and a creamier gold than the rest of her skin, as soon as I see them my palms ache with the desire to cup them, squeeze them.
I want to see her skin stain pink with the pressure of my fingers and lips.
I want to turn those pinky-brown nipples red.
“Cup your breasts for me, baby.”
She bites her lip and shakes her head. “Can’t.”
“You can. Be my good girl and show Oppa those pretty titties.”
Slowly, she runs her hands over her breasts, cups them, and with her shoulders drawn up almost to her ears, offers them to me.
I flick my tongue over my lower lip, imagining those sweet, brown berries in my mouth. “Mmm. I know they taste delicious. Pinch them for me.”
Her shyness fading as she gets into our game, she does, squeaking when I tell her to pinch them hard. Panting when she releases them. We watch them flush red.
I peel my boxers over the head of my dick so it peeks out, a pearl of pre-cum beading in the crease.
“I’m going to fuck those sweet titties when I get back, baby.
I’m going to make you squeeze them together while I push my cock between them.
Can you imagine the tip of my cock peeping through again and again until I come all over your throat? ”
She shivers and whimpers. “Oppa.”
“Pull up your skirt and let me see what you have there for me.”
She claps her hands over her face and shakes her head, but then pulls her skirt up. She’s bare underneath, round thighs pressed together, her triangle of sparse, silky black hair disappearing between them.
“Spread your legs. Show me what’s mine.”
She bares her teeth at me. “Mine.”
Then she hides behind her hands again.
I let a growl build in my chest. “Mine.”
She shakes her head, the midnight curtain of her hair swishing around her bare shoulders. “Show you nothing.”
“Spread those legs,” I growl, fisting the leaking head of my cock and letting it poke through the circle of my fingers.
“No,” she hisses, even as she spreads them, letting me see the sheen on her inner thighs.
“You are such a naughty bumble. Touch yourself. Tease yourself open.”