She goes quiet, and there’s more shifting on her end.
Then, very softly, she asks, “You’re alone, right?”
“Uh, yeah? Dax went for burgers with Reese.”
“Mhm.”
The second she says it, something in my brain snaps into place, because I know that tone. The breathiness creeping into her voice, the tiny hesitation, the fidgeting.
Holy shit.
Honey’s horny.
I smirk. She’s horny, but she doesn’t want to be the one to initiate it. She wants to make me think it’s my idea. Cute.
Well, if that’s what she wants, I’m going to make her work for it.
I settle deeper into the pillows and drop my voice lower, drawing out my words. “Tell me more about what you were thinking while you watched me tonight.”
She exhales shakily. “Just... how you stand there in the pocket so calmly even though you're about to be thwarted by these giant football players.”
“Mm.” I let the sound rumble. “I do like taking my time. Reading the defense. Waiting for the perfect opening. Then I slide it in deep when they least expect it.”
There's another tiny hitch in her breathing. It's barely there, but I'm listening out for it.
I keep going, my words thick and unhurried. “Just like tonight. They thought they had me trapped, but I just rolled out nice and easy... let the pressure build... then I gave it to them exactly where it hurt most.”
She makes a small sound, and her sheets shift again. “You're so cocky when you win.”
“Only when I earn it.”
I palm my hardening cock through my sweats and stroke once, slowly. There’s a little pain in my wrist, but this will be so fucking worth it.
“Zach...”
“Tell me something, Honeycomb,” I drawl, letting each word stretch out. “When I rolled out of that pocket tonight...you saidyou couldn't breathe. Was it the way my hips shifted or the way that my shoulders squared up before I planted and threw that got you?”
Her exhale comes out shaky. “All of it. You just... move like you own the space and nothing can touch you unless you let it.”
“Mhm.” I hum low, dragging it out. “I do like being in control. Feeling everything line up just right. Reading every little twitch, every tell. Waiting for that perfect moment when everything opens up.... and then I take it. Slow at first. Then deep, making sure they feel every inch of my decision.”
A tiny, involuntary sound slips from her. The sheets rustle again, but this time a wet, rhythmic sound follows. It’s quiet, but there's no mistaking the noise. She's gone too far to hide it.
I let out a low chuckle, letting it rumble through the line. “Honeycomb...you’re not even pretending anymore, are you? I can hear how wet that pussy is for me.”
She whimpers, embarrassed, but the slick sounds only get louder.
“Are you touching yourself right now?”
She lets out a tiny, mortified mewl. Then, barely audible, she says, “Yes...”
“Fuck,” I groan, shoving my sweats down and wrapping my hand around my throbbing cock. “Don’t you dare stop.”
I hear her breath stutter as she obeys.
My grip tightens as I exhale a shaky breath, thinking about what she must look like right now. Is she wearing my jersey? Does she have a big game day bow in her hair? Are her legs wide open, or is she under the covers, shyly helping herself?
“What are you wearing?” I ask, keeping my voice lazy, even though I’m about to burst because I’m so gone for this girl. “Tell me everything. I want the picture of you in my head.”
