Page 13 of Devil In A Suit, Vol. 2

I pause. I’ve never had phone sex before. The dirtiest things I’ve ever said on a phone call were to Janet, and that was not this. But I’m powerless against him, and I’m not reluctant.

“I want you inside me,” I say. “I wanted it in your office, and I want it now.”

“You’re touching yourself, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” I let my fingers slide beneath my panties and between my folds, two fingers locating the source of pleasure.

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m rubbing my clit,” I say as I let two fingers swirl lazily, my thighs quivering with each motion.

“And what are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about your tongue, your mouth on me in the back of the limo.”

“You tasted so sweet,” he says in a husky voice. “I’m going to taste you again.”

“Yes? Please,” I purr.

“I’m going to lay you out on my bed and unwrap you like a gift. I’m going to run my tongue over every inch of you, leaving my mark in places only I can see. I’m going to have you. Is that what you want?”

“Yes. God yes,” I gasp.

“I knew you wanted it from the moment you walked into my office. I knew I would be ripping your clothes off and making you scream my name.”

As he talks, my hand goes first to my breasts, cupping their fullness and brushing across my hard nipples, but it’s not long before my fingers begin migrating back down. Thinking about him has me wet already, and I cup my pussy with a firm hand.

“Can you make yourself come as well as I can?” he asks.

“No one can make me come like you can,” I reply, the truth in the words only I know.

“Let me hear you come.”

I dip two fingers inside, slick with wetness, then return to my clit. I rub circles and figure eights until I can feel my back arching off the bed, my thighs quivering. I apply pressure, firm, as I close my eyes tight and imagine is deep brown eyes gazing up from my between my legs while his tongue works over me. I’m moaning now, softly between ragged breaths. I can hear his breath through the phone, deep and even. I let myself imagine him stroking himself as he thinks of me, as he listens to me, as he remembers me. And that’s the image that finally pushes me over the edge. I cry out as heat bursts beneath my fingers tips, the sensation of my orgasm rolling over every part of me in heavy waves.

“God, yes, Jared!” I cry as I sink into the delicious warmth of my orgasm. Then I lay there in silence, gasping into the phone as I come down.

“Sleep well, Quinn,” he says. And then the lines goes dead.