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“I would suck until it tightened against my tongue, then move to the other one while my hand went between your legs.”

Her breathing roughens. “I want your mouth.”

“I know.”

“I want it everywhere.”

“You’ll use your hand tonight.”

“Bossy.”

“You answered because you wanted this.”

“I answered because I wanted you.”

The distinction should reach deeper than desire. I refuse to let it. Tonight, she gets my body through my voice, and I take everything hers gives me in return.

“Pinch your nipples,” I tell her.

She gasps.

“Again.”

The second sound is sharper.

My fist moves faster. “Are you wet?”

“Yes.”

“Touch yourself and prove it.”

Silence holds for one second before I hear her fingers move between her thighs. The faint, slick sound turns my cock rigid inside my grip.

“Ryan.”

“How wet?”

“My fingers are covered.”

“Smell them.”

“You’re filthy.”

“You knew that before answering.”

Her breath reaches the speaker when she lifts her hand. “I can smell myself.”

“Put them in your mouth.”

The small sound she makes nearly finishes me. I imagine her lips closing around her fingers while the jersey remains bunched beneath her breasts and her thighs stay open for me.

“What do you taste like?” I ask.

She pulls her fingers free. “You know.”

“I haven’t tasted you in too fucking long. Remind me.”

The answer comes softly enough that I have to close my eyes to hear all of it.