A soft, embarrassed laugh slips out of her. “Just... just that lacy pink cami I like to wear to bed.”
“With the matching shorts?”
“No. Just some pink panties, which aren’t exactly helping right now.”
Fuck. I want to be there right now.
I groan low in my throat. “Push them to the side for me. Let me imagine those pretty lips all swollen and slick.”
She doesn’t reply, so I keep going.
“Slide one finger inside yourself slowly so you can feel how tight and wet you are for me. Pretend it’s the tip of my cock teasing your entrance, not letting you have more until you beg.”
She whimpers as the rhythm picks up. “Zach...”
“Yeah?” I stroke myself harder, matching her pace now. “Tell me how it feels.”
“I need you,” she breathes. “I'm thinking about how you feel when you're inside me.”
I am too, baby.
“You're so thick, and it feels so good when you stretch me.”
“Mm. I love being inside you. Put another finger in.”
There's a little groan, but I know when she does it because she takes in a sharp breath.
“Now hold your fingers there. Feel every pulse of your pussy around them.”
“Zach,” she lets out as a broken moan.
“Now curl your fingers, Honeycomb. Find that spot that makes your toes curl and your back arch off the bed.”
She moans out my name again.
“If I were there right now, I’d tie your wrists above your head, shove your thighs wide open, and bury my face between your legs. I'd drag my tongue from your dripping entrance all the way up to your clit, over and over, until you’re grinding on my mouth.”
She lets out a broken cry, the wet sounds turning frantic.
“I’d suck on that pretty clit until your legs shake, then I’d pull back and blow on it just to watch you twitch and beg. I wouldn’t let you come until you’re crying my name, and your pussy’s dripping.”
“Zach, please—”
“Rub your clit faster, Honeycomb. Fuck yourself harder. Imagine it’s me pounding into you, owning every inch of that tight, wet pussy, because it’s mine.”
Another moan.
“Say it, Honeycomb. Tell me it’s mine.”
“It’s yours—” she sobs. “It’s all yours.”
“Good girl. Now don’t stop until I tell you. I want to hear exactly what my Honeycomb sounds like when she comes thinking about my cock.”
A raw, trembling cry rips from her body as she comes. The sound peaks, then slows as she rides it out, whimpering softly.
I’m right there with her, groaning low and rough as I spill over my hand, my hips bucking hard, and my vision blurring for a second.
The line goes quiet except for our ragged breathing.
