Page 42 of Ruined

It’s two o’clock in the morning; there’s no way he’s awake. It’s not like he can do anything if he was, anyway, so⁠—

My phone rings, the vibration startlingly loud against the silence.

I accept the call with a racing heart. “Daddy?”

“Is something wrong?” He sounds tired but otherwise fully engaged.

“No. I came back from work, and… Why are you awake?” I’m rambling. I didn’t expect him to call me, and now that our relationship is different from what it was, I can’t help but feel a silly nervousness when hearing his voice, as if I wasn’t nervous enough to begin with when it comes to him.

He sighs into his phone. “I couldn’t sleep either.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just… a lot of thoughts.”

My heartbeat quickens. Is he having second thoughts about what we did? Is he regretting it?

“Are you coming over tomorrow?” he asks.

“Yeah, I mean… If you want me to.”

“I want you to,” he says, and the smile in his voice makes butterflies flutter in my chest. He’s quiet for a beat, and I wait with bated breath. Finally, he asks, “What do you want to do?”

I smile sheepishly. “You know what I want to do.”

He chuckles, and through the phone, his voice sounds even deeper than in real life. It makes my stomach clench with arousal, and my hand wanders down my body to squeeze my dick through my boxer briefs.

“I’ll get you the toys, but only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” How many times do I need to tell him?

“Unless…” He grows quiet again, and my body thrums with impatience. “Unless you have some at home?”

“I don’t. I’ve only tried a finger.” I lie on my side and tug my underwear down to my knees. Then, I stroke my ass and pretend that my hand is his hand, like I’ve done many times. This time, my imagination is more vivid, though, because now he’s actually had his hands on my ass. He’s had his tongue there, too…

“Did you use lube?” he asks.

“Yeah… sometimes.”

“You should use it every time.”

“Like… right now?” My breath catches as soon as I say it. It’s not like he wanted to initiate phone sex; that’s all on me, and I still don’t fully know what he thinks is “appropriate” or not.

His breathing grows a little heavier. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Yeah.” I can barely get the word out, still unsure if he’ll shut me down.

“Get the lube.”

I exhale in relief and stretch toward the drawer of my nightstand. With the lube bottle in my hand, I squeeze some onto my fingers and bring my hand to my ass. There, I stroke the lube over my hole, remembering the way it felt when Logan pulled me close and circled my rim with the callused pad of his finger. His fingers are way thicker and longer than mine; no wonder he couldn’t fit it inside me.

“Talk me through it, sweetheart.”

“Oh. I’m—I put lube on my finger, and now I’m touching myself, um, on the outside.” My cheeks burn. In some ways, it feels mortifying to talk about this over the phone, and I’m suddenly afraid the twins will hear me. Nico sometimes stays up late, despite his complaints about late-night gaming.

Logan’s steady voice never fails to calm me down, though. “Good. How does it feel?”

“Feels nice,” I gasp, and I place the phone on the mattress so I can have both hands free in case I need them. “Feels really nice.”