Page 5 of Watcher
“Of course.” The phone disconnected. Kirkland knew he didn’t do small talk.
He dialed the number and listened to it ring. “Who is this?”
The growled words were definitely Foster's. It felt like Foster always spoke to him in that tone. “Good. I just wanted to confirmit was you.” Atticus chuckled as he disconnected the call. Let the games begin.
Foster stared at the device he held. That had definitely been Atticus’ haughty voice. Foster shook his head as he saved Atticus’ number to his phone. He didn’t know why he had left a way for Atticus to reach him. Nothing would come of them. It just seemed kind of shitty to bail with no way for Atticus to stay in touch. Foster didn’t actually know the proper etiquette after last night. While he had definitely slept with other people, Foster had experienced nothing like his night with Atticus. The entire affair had felt intimate with zero intimacy. Now, there was something funny going on with his chest and stomach, and Atticus had just called and hung up. Atticus confused the fuck out of him. The phone in his hand shook, startling Foster.
Atticus:I’ve known about your voyeuristic visits for a little over three weeks. How long has this actually been going on?
Atticus:Side note. I don’t like talking on the phone. That’s why I cut our call short. I only wanted to make sure I had the right number before I started sending nudes and whatnot.
A laugh burst from Foster after reading the second text. Unfortunately, the first message was the one that stuck. Atticus had known he was there for three weeks. That meant…
Foster:Six. So you mean to tell me that hot as fuck edging session happened with full knowledge I watched?
As he sent the message, Foster already regretted his words. His disbelief had run with his fingers, typing out some sort of fucked-up text damning himself.
Atticus:Yep.
The second Atticus’ response showed on his phone, Foster closed his eyes and groaned. Atticus couldn’t be for real. Foster had thought that show would kill him. He wasn’t about to jack off in the closet like some sort of insane pervert. Like, yeah. He had watched every second, but blowing cum all over the guy’s clothes seemed a step too far. When he had gotten home, that was a different story.
Atticus:Did I scare you away?
Foster:No, I’m just processing.
Atticus:Take your time. I have three more hours to kill before my next meeting.
Foster chuckled. Only Atticus would tell him to take his time and then give him a time limit.
Atticus:On second thought, you actually owe me nudes. You’ve seen what I have to offer.
The way Foster’s stomach muscles clenched at the idea of what Atticus had to offer had him petrified. But he wouldn’t back out of the conversation and look like a pussy.
Foster:Yeah, I don’t do nudes so some pervert, i.e. you, can make me into an AI porno.
Atticus:I don’t need nudes to do that. Luckily for you, I have some class. Plus, why make a video when I can have the real thing?
Foster blew out a slow breath. Not once had Foster found himself in this position. At least, not with anyone like Atticus. He was more of a one-night-only guy.
Foster:You’re ridiculously sure of yourself.
Atticus:Why have you been watching me?
Fuck. There it was. Why had he been watching Atticus? All Foster had was honesty.
Foster:I don’t know.
Atticus:You have time to think about it. Let me know over dinner. My place. Seven.
Foster didn’t even think.
Foster:I’ll see you then.
An odd sense of disappointment washed over him. Foster enjoyed their conversation more than he expected. They were so different, but then again, they weren’t. Either way, he didn’t want to get back to reality. This was the most fun he had ever had.
Atticus:I tried for thirty seconds to be reasonable. Worst thirty seconds of my life, by the way. But I find myself impatient. Come to my office. We’ll have lunch.
Again, Foster didn’t think. His fingers were on autopilot and knew what Foster really wanted.
