My heart drums in my ears.
“First?” he whispers. Pauses. I’m hanging on the edge, straining for his next words. “Your mouth.”
This might be my best worst decision ever. Stifling a groan, I push the heel of my palm into my thickening cock to relieve the ache.
“Where next?”
A faint whimper. Precum gushes into my boxers.
“That spot where your neck meets your shoulder… but I wouldn’t be able to resist biting you.”
I shiver, trailing my fingers up and down my shaft teasingly. “Mmm, I like it when you bite.”
He whines, “Fuck, Remy,” and it’s a desperate sound that pours liquid heat into my groin.
“What’s the matter, love?”
The pet name is out before I can clamp my big mouth shut. But the delicious little noise he makes smothers my panic.
“I-I’m so fucking hard.”
Christ. As if I wasn’t already leaking.
“So am I.” My fingers sneak under the waistband of my boxers. “Are you touching yourself too?”
He mutters an unintelligible curse. “Yeah… since before you texted me.”
Now I'm cursing, cock in hand and thumb spreads slippery precum over the tip.
“How?”
He’s quiet. Something shifts. There’s a click.
“How you touched me… after the meet.”
My cock jumps. Images whip through my mind at breakneck speeds. Win with his back arched, writhing with his fingers buried—
Fuck all, I will NOT come yet.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mhm.”
A shaky sigh crackles over the line. I adjust my phone in the crook of my neck and begin leisurely stroking myself again.
“Have you… gone further?” My cheeks flush. “Then we did?”
Shuffling.
“Yeah.”
“Fuck,” I groan, hips lifting in search of more. “Right now?”
“Mhmm.”
“Jesus fuck, Win, that’s so hot.” My hand moves over my cock faster, twisting at the top of each stroke. “How’s it feel?”
Another whine from him and I have to pause soI don’t blow.
