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“How hard?”
“If I was there right now, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I would pull your fingers out of your cunt and suck them dry. Then I would dive into your hot, wet pussy and feast on you until you moaned my name.”
I gasp at his coarse language as my walls clench around my finger. I keep fucking myself with that finger and squeeze my eyes shut.
“Add another finger,” he says, a little out of breath.
I do as he says and groan around the increased pressure.
“Once you moaned my name,” he continues. “I would kiss my way up your body to your incredible tits. I would suck on your nipples through your shirt until you begged me to tear it off of you. And then, when I’m sucking on your neck, I would rub my hard cock through your warm, wet folds until you’re panting, until you’re begging me to fuck you. Then, when you’re starting to shake and writhe beneath me, when you’re moaning so loud I have to quiet your cries with my mouth, I’d thrust inside.”
My breath is erratic and my thighs are starting to shake as I pump my fingers inside myself faster and faster.
“I would thrust inside you, as hard as you could take it. Tasting your sweet neck, devouring your lush tits, consuming your sweet, red lips. I would suck on your tongue, letting you taste yourself on my mouth. Then, I would reach down and stroke your clit. I want you to do that. Now.”
I brush my finger against my clit once, twice. And I fall apart.
The sounds I make are throaty and raw. And then I hear him, groaning loudly, his primal moans peppered with curse words so deliciously filthy my clit throbs again.
I lay there, eyes closed, my breath fast and heavy. He clears his throat, and my stomach drops.
What the hell just happened?
What did we do?
“Faye.” His voice is low and intense, as if he’s said my name a few times already. “Stop, babe. Don’t do that.” His voice is low and gravelly.
“Don’t do what?” I ask, feeling tears prick at my eyes.
“Don’t get into that beautiful, brainy head of yours. I needed you. You needed this. It’s okay.” His voice is soft and tender, and it only makes it worse. It’s almost patronizing. Like we both had an urge and we satisfied that urge. End of story.
I swallow hard and force as much steadying energy into my vocal cords as I can.
“Yeah. Of course.”
He’s quiet for a long moment.
“You’re okay?” he asks with a strange hollowness that cuts into my heart.
Was this a one-off? I shake my head, as if telling my heart to suck it up and deal with it.
“It’s fine. Shit happens.”
He’s quiet again, and a stupid, traitorous tear trickles down my cheek. I’m grateful he can’t see my face right now. If he could, I would ruin everything. If I haven’t already. Of course he wouldn’t really want anything more than a cheap orgasm with a girl like me.
“Faye—”
“I should try to sleep,” I say, impressed at how reasonable I sound. “And so should you. It’s late there.”
“Stop it, Faye,” he says, his voice rough. He hesitates for a moment, and I swear I can hear him open his mouth as if he wants to say something more. As if he’s frustrated and can’t find the words.
“Good night, Zeke,” I say.
“Faye, don’t hang up on me. Not like this.” We’re both quiet for a moment. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s like you said. You needed this. I needed this. So we did this. It’s fine.”
The words ring hollow in my chest. They’re painful to say. But I’m just stating facts.
