Page 81 of Elevator Pitch

“Fuck, sweetheart. Tell me more.”

“Are you touching yourself?” she whispers.

Hell, yes. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes.” Another breathless plea. “Tell me what you feel.”

“I’m hot and hard. Long and leaking from the tip. And greedy for you, too.”

“Oh, God.”

I picture her hand between her thighs, knees bent to the side. Her head tilted back. Her eyes lidded.

“Yeah? You like that? Like knowing you have power over me as well? You make me hard, Vee. You make me ache.” I fist myself and stroke upward. “You’re all I think about.”

“I am?”

“Yes,” I grunt, because Vee consumes me. “And how I feel when I touch you is incredible. Powerful. Invincible. You make me want to be better.”

“Ross,” she chokes.

“How ready are you for me, sweetheart? I want to taste you,” I admit.

“What did I taste like?”

Mine. “Honey and musk.”

She hums.

“And what did I feel like?”

Mine. “Like you fit me.”

“Ross.” Her sigh shifts, soft and sweet, but I want her as desperate for me as I am for her.

“Two fingers, sweetheart. Rub that spot. Feel how wet you are. You want my fingers to touch you.”

“Yes.”

I squeeze myself harder. “And my tongue to lick you up.”

“Oh God, yes, please.”

I yank faster at myself.

“And then you want me inside you, filling you up and—”

“Yes!” The sound of her breaking has me tipping over as well, spilling over my fist and dripping onto my belly.

“Fuck, Vee,” I groan, continuing to fall apart from just the sound of her cries. I’m breathless and spent, and wishing she was here beside me.

Eventually, Vee quiets, her softening breaths whisper through the phone.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is sweet once more, relaxed but distant. She’s too far away when I want her here with me in this bed. The next best thing is her there in mine.

“I’m glad you’re in my bed, sweetheart.”