Page 25 of His Turn

And maybe I’m just drunk, or maybe I’m just lonely, or maybe I’m actually thinking it might be fun, but I do it.

“OK,” I say into the phone. And then I put her on speaker and set the phone down. “I’ve got it in my hand. Now what?”

“Play with your balls,” she says. “Grab them, lift them up, and massage them. Press them against your hard shaft, Elias. I want you good and ready for me.”

“Are your fingers in your pussy?” I ask.

“Not yet. I’m just getting started.”

“Are you already wet? From Jordan?”

“Yes,” she says. “Are you playing with your balls?”

“Yes,” I say, massaging them in the palm of my hand, rubbing them against my now fully-erect cock. There are all kinds of warning bells going off in my head right now. Warnings like… She’s controlling you, Bric. She’s getting her way. She’s trying to change the rules in her favor. She wants to win, Bric.

But I don’t even know what winning means anymore. I’ve been on a losing streak for so long, I’ve lost perspective. Maybe this is winning?

“Stop thinking so hard, Elias.” She purrs my name. Like a trained whore, I tell myself. Or… like a woman and not a girl. “Just relax. Lean back. Are you on your couch? Or in a chair? Give me a visual.”

It’s a bad idea, but I don’t care. “Couch,” I say.

“Keep playing,” she says. Her voice is so low now. Such a soft whisper. And her breathing is picking up. Just a little. Just enough for me to picture her too. “And tell me what the room looks like.”

I look around my apartment. “It’s cold,” I say. “Leather chairs and couch.”

“What color?” she asks.

“White. And the floors are black marble.”

“So you live in your own version of the Black and White Rooms?”

“What?” I say, my hand pausing mid-stroke on my cock.

“Do you have a view? From where you’re sitting?”

I glance out the window and find the gold dome of the capitol building. “No.”

“Such a shame. Do you want to know where I am?”

“Sure,” I say, losing interest fast. What the fuck am I doing?

“Well…” she breathes. “I undressed as soon as I came home. I was regretting my choice of dress all night because I didn’t feel sexy in it. It was too tailored. Too buttoned up. Too professional. I wanted you to look at me, Elias. Look at me in a way that made your eyes heavy and your heart beat faster. And you didn’t. So I was disappointed.”

I wonder how true that is?

“So I put on something else. And made myself up in a different way. Do you want a picture?”

“Sure,” I say, glancing down at the phone.

I hear the sound of a camera click, then a few seconds later my phone beeps. I tab the message and open it up.

Good. Fucking. God.

Her hair looks like someone just fucked her brains out. All messy and long. Hanging over her eyes, which have been darked up with smoky colors. Grays and blacks. Her brown eyes still have that glint of sultry power shining from within. And her lips are glossy and red. I picture them wrapped around my cock, those tantalizing brown eyes looking up at me as I hold her head in place and fuck her mouth.

She’s lying back on her bed wearing black lingerie. A corset. She’s got her knees up, legs open, panties pulled aside, fingers spreading herself so I can see her pussy.

Her tits are practically spilling out of the push-up bra built into the corset. Her other hand is pulling down the fabric to reveal a nipple.