Page 29 of Her Age Gap Match

“Not confidence.” He paused. I heard him sip his drink, put the glass down again. I could practically taste the whiskey on his lips. “I’ve just seen your ass in a pair of leggings.”

I cackled, which was also embarrassing—tried to cover it up. “Oh my god, Johnny…”

“Sorry,” he laughed too. “I should be polite.”

“You don’t have to be polite,” I said, then my breath caught when I remembered his words the other night. “I like you bad.”

A low sound on the other end of the line. Not quite a laugh.

"Is that so," he said.

"Mm." I let my hand wander a little further, just my fingertips, barely anything. "I've been thinking about that. What you said the other day."

"Which part?”

"The part where you said you wanted to take me apart piece by piece." I said it quietly, like the dark made it easier. It did. "I keep thinking about that."

Silence.

"Poppy." His voice had dropped into something lower, something that made my toes curl.

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing right now?”

"Nothing," I said. "Just—lying here. Thinking."

"Thinking." A pause. "Are your hands where they should be?"

My breath caught. "That depends on where you think they should be."

His voice seemed like it dropped a whole octave. “Put me on speaker phone, Poppy.”

I let out a long exhale, then I pulled the phone away from my ear and put him on speaker. I placed the phone next to my head, then—one hand on my belly, the other on my thigh.

“You’re on speaker,” I said.

“Good.” He paused. “I was just…thinking about where I want your hands. One between your legs. One on your breast.”

I moved my hands where he told me to…sliding my hands beneath my clothes to cup my pussy and squeeze my own breast.

“Okay,” I breathed.

“Good girl.”

There it was—the same words from the dream, in his actual voice, at midnight on a Sunday with my phone on the pillow next to my head and my heartbeat going absolutely haywire.

“Tell me what you feel,” he said.

“I feel–” I exhaled. “I feel like I’ve been having this dream for two years.”

“This isn’t a dream,” he said with a low laugh. “But I meant—with your hands, baby. Not with your head.”

I took a sharp breath as I moved my hands, letting myself actually feel without thinking. “My…I’m pinching my nipple,” I gasped. “It hurts a little but it feels good. And…and my–my pussy is wet.”

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s what I was hoping.”

“Johnny.”