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“Fuck…” His voice is deep and throaty. I hear rustling in the background, like sheets. “Faye?”
“I’m here,” I say, my voice husky. I sound much more sure than I feel.
“You’re beautiful.”
His words are heavy, and they make my heart crack, ever so slightly. A soft moan escapes the back of my throat, and I immediately flush with embarrassment.
“Are you touching yourself?” he asks. His voice is low and the resonance vibrates through me.
I swallow thickly as I realize my fingertips are, in fact, circling my taut nipple. “Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“My nipples,” I say, bringing my other hand to my other breast, running the pads of my fingers over the hard pebbles and squeezing my thighs together to relieve the sudden pressure.
“I’m so hard,” he says, and his voice sounds so strained I believe him.
My phone buzzes and when I open the message from him, I gasp. It’s a picture of his massive, calloused hand, the beautiful muscles in his forearm strained, palming his length through his thin sleep shorts. It’s huge, much bigger than his hand.
“Wow,” I whisper.
He chuckles in my ear, a throaty sound that goes straight to my clit. “Put your hand between your legs,” he says.
It all seems too real, too fast.
“Zeke, I can’t—”
“You can,” he insists. It’s all so intense, and he’s not even here. “Babe, turn off your lamp. Just be with me, in the moment. It’s just me and you. Don’t overthink it.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Good,” he says. “Now turn off the lamp.”
I reach for the lamp on my bedside table and turn it off.
“That’s better, isn’t it?”
I let out another deep breath.
“Now, I want you to slip those beautiful fingers between your legs and tell me what it feels like.”
I take another deep breath, and slowly, slowly, slip my hand beneath my shorts, beneath my underwear. My fingers delve between my slick folds, immediately coated in my wetness. I let out a shaky breath.
“How do you feel?”
“Wet,” I whisper.
He groans in my ear, sending a pulse of pleasure straight to my clit. I press my finger against it and a soft moan escapes my throat.
“How wet?”
I drag my fingertip in lazy figure eights from my entrance up to my clit and back. I’m wet enough that I know I’ll have to change panties later. I hear a deep, throaty moan, and then a chuckle before I realize the moan was mine.
“Push your finger inside. I want you to fuck yourself with your finger.”
I lick my lips. They’re so dry. But I do what he says. I push my middle finger inside my wet, hot channel, and I gasp.
“You make the sexiest sounds,” he says. “It’s making me so fucking hard.” He groans in my ear and I feel myself clench around my finger.
