2026-01-17 — Nsfw Soft
The whiskey was a smooth burn in his throat, but the heat in his veins was all Sam. Dave sat in the quiet of his own living room, the ghost of his dream from last night clinging to him. A dimly lit bar in Roanoke. A sofa where her body fit perfectly against his. The low hum of a song he couldn’t name, drowned out by the pounding of his own heart. He’d sent her the voice memo, pouring the vision into her ears, hoping it would find her like it had found him—unsettled, flustered, electric with need. Across the distan…
2026-01-18 — Nsfw Soft
The hotel gym was empty, the only sounds the low hum of climate control and the rhythmic thud of Dave’s sneakers on the treadmill. His morning text to Sam—I got it done, but my heart wasn’t in it—echoed in the sterile air. He’d lied. His heart was perpetually elsewhere, tethered to a woman seven hundred miles away, whose simple “Good morning” could derail his entire day. He’d admitted as much to her, that she was his favorite distraction. A week. One more week of this exquisite torture before she’d be here, in t…
2026-01-15 — Nsfw Soft
The apartment was quiet, the kind of heavy silence that only comes when the world outside is expected of you and you’ve chosen to hide. Sam lay on her sofa, a blanket tangled around her legs, her phone warm in her hand. The text from Dave glowed on the screen: Mutual sick day. The universe is telling us something. She’d replied with a laughing emoji, but the truth was a low, liquid heat in her belly. Talking about Candace’s tangled love life had been a fun diversion, a soap opera to dissect, but it had only shar…
2026-01-14 — Nsfw Soft
The ache in her hips was a low, persistent thrum, a souvenir from a restless night tangled with a puppy and her own churning thoughts. Sam shifted in her office chair, the leather groaning in sympathy. On her screen, the transcript of Dave’s morning message was still open. Handsome, she’d called him. The word felt too soft for the sharp, desperate want he carved in her. Her phone vibrated, a lifeline in the sterile quiet. > Dave: That podcast you were listening to. The one about the perfect couple. It got me…
2026-01-13 — Nsfw Soft
The scent of cold earth and damp wood filled the tiny office as Dave hunched over his phone, a single bar of space heater glow doing little against the chill. His thumbs flew over the screen, sending warmth through words. You’re so brave, pretty lady. So fucking proud of you. The message sent, a digital kiss across the miles. Sam had just quit her job. The toxic shelter, the weight she’d carried for years—gone. The relief in her texts was palpable, a live wire of liberated energy that vibrated through him. His o…
2026-01-12 — Nsfw Soft
The air in the hotel ballroom was frigid, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones and made you wish for a heavy sweater. Sam shivered, her fingers numb around the stem of her wine glass. The conference was a blur of faces and name tags, but all she could think about was the text from an hour ago. My Yeti bottle is keeping my coffee hot. Wish it could keep you warm. One week. She’d smiled, a secret warmth blooming in her chest. Now, that warmth was a slow, insistent burn low in her belly. She knew he was her…
2026-01-16 — Nsfw Soft
The morning text had been a lit fuse. Quivering, he’d said. A single word that sent a tremor through Sam’s core as she stood in her kitchen, the dogs twining around her legs. She’d confessed everything—the vivid, Technicolor fantasy of his mouth on her, his hands claiming her ass, the whispered filth in her ear. The memory of that confession, of Dave’s hungry, one-word responses, thrummed in her veins all day, a secret symphony playing beneath the mundane surface of work calls and domestic errands. Now, it was t…