“Baby girl, you gotta talk to me. Tell me what’s happening.” “I’m—I—” I huff with frustration. I’ve never been good at dirty talking on a phone. If I ever worked for a phone sex hotline, the guys would probably ask for a refund. “Hold on.” I shimmy out of my silky sleep shorts and my underwear. “You’re killing me here, baby—” “Hold on,” I say again, tapping the icon on the phone to switch to video. “Oh, fuck yes—” His words cut off as the call switches.
