Page 93 of One Night with Number Nineteen

“Pretend I am,” I rasp.

Hot brown eyes on mine. “If you were here, what would you do?”

“I’d suck at those tits. Cup them in my palms, tease your nipples until you beg for more.”

“Yeah?” She massages and teases, her head falling back, her spine arching as she touches herself. “What else?”

“I’d kiss you until you couldn’t think, could barely breathe.”

“Would you touch yourself?” she asks.

“No,” I groan as she trails her hand down her belly. “I’d be too busy touching you.”

A soft laugh. “Yeah, I remember.” Her eyes lock with mine as she flicks open the button on her pants, tugs down the zipper. “Touch yourself now.”

My hand spasms so hard, I groan. “I’m already doing that, Pages.”

“Show me how you like it,” she murmurs, that hand sliding lower, dislodging her underwear, pushing down her pants, giving me a glimpse of that plump, slick pussy. “Show me how you touch yourself when you think about me.”

“Baby—”

That finger dips lower, lower. “Show me,” she orders.

I stroke myself faster, harder, gripping tightly, imagining it’s her hand on me, her fingers wrapped tight. Imagining that her soft moans as she touches herself are coming from beside me, from beneath me, not through my phone’s speaker.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” I groan, hand moving faster. Too fast. So, I order, “Touch your clit.”

She laughs softly…then moans as she does exactly that. For a few seconds, anyway. Because then her gaze is fixing on mine and she’s ordering, “Cup your balls, handsome.”

Laughter in my chest, but my hand is moving before it escapes.

And then I’m groaning, my head dropping back to the pillows.

“I can’t wait to taste you,” she says. “I want to feel you on my lips, my tongue. Want you down my throat. Want⁠—”

“Fuck!”

“I’m imagining you on top of me again, only this time it’s not your mouth and fingers.” Her chest heaves as she strokes herself, those tits bouncing as she works her clit. “You’re pushing inside me again, stretching me so wide it burns in the best fucking way.”

“Faster, baby,” I order, stroking myself harder, my orgasm so fucking close I can taste it.

“You’re fucking me hard,” she whispers. “So hard all I can do is hold on tight as you take me, so hard that I’ll feel you”—her breath hitches—“tomorrow⁠—”

A moan.

Or maybe it’s that we’re both groaning as pleasure splinters through our bodies. My vision hazes, black intruding along the edges, as I come apart in the strongest orgasm I’ve had in…

Maybe ever.

By the time I manage to come back into my body and focus back on the phone, I find her looking⁠—

Shy.

Now well, I didn’t expect that.

“Are you okay?” I ask, scooping up my underwear and attempting to clean myself up.

Her cheeks flush brighter as she tugs up her pants, pulls on her shirt. “I’m—” She pushes back those silky brown curls. “I don’t know what came over me,” she whispers. “That was…it was incredible, but I’ve never⁠—”