I set my phone down, collapsing into the chair, while on the screen, the two were slowly sinking into a whirl of passion.
Michael had clearly heard Betty's final words to me over the phone.
When Betty rejected me, Michael's head bowed, a smirk creeping across his face, the smirk of a victor, especially after Betty sent that message.
He then resumed his thrusts, the sound of flesh smacking against flesh echoing as his hips collided with Betty's buttocks.
As Michael's hands lifted her shirt, Betty cooperated by pulling up her bra, allowing Michael easy access to caress her breasts from behind.
I hadn't replied to Betty.
If she still cared about me, she would have checked her phone for a message from me, but she didn't.
Her phone was tossed aside again, her hands bracing against the couch, enduring Michael's pounding as his thrusting pace and intensity drew moans from her, high and low.