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A flush spreads down my neck and across my chest. I can see it in the small version of myself in the corner of the screen. An ache builds in my core. I do as he says, swallowing a strained sound when the first glide of my fingers feels so damn good. My pussy feels more sensitive than ever, my clit throbbing with need.
His attention is intent, not taking his eyes off me. “Taste yourself. Tell me how sweet you taste.” I lick two of my fingers and hum. “Yeah, like that. God, you look hot like that. Next I rub your clit and sink the first finger inside you.”
Bliss spreads through me as I touch my clit at last. “Oh shit, that feels so good.” My lips part and my hips rock in time with the circular movements of my fingers. “I won’t last long. I’m so turned on by what you’re doing.”
“Me too.”
I hiss as I press a finger inside, a thready moan escaping me.
“Now another finger,” he says thickly. “I love watching you take me in.”
My eyes fall shut as I lose myself to the fantasy, imagining it’s Cooper’s hand between my legs, his deft fingers working into me, making me feel so good. He goes faster, murmuring words of encouragement that send a burst of heat through me.
My inner walls clench on my fingers. A cry tears from me. I just need a little more.
Oh shit, I’m really close. “I want to come.”
“Tatum, stop.” Cooper’s filthy tone makes my eyes pop open. He smirks at my trembling. “I know, baby. I know you’re so close to falling apart. I want to see it more than anything. But there’s something you have to promise first.”
“What?” I’m breathless and ready to plead.
He rakes his teeth over his lip and his burning gaze pierces me through the screen. “Next time you touch yourself, promise to think of me. No one’s touching what belongs to me right now. Got that? You only touch my pussy when you’re thinking about me taking care of what’s mine.”
My stomach tightens at his thrilling words. How do I tell him he’s always the one in my fantasies when I touch myself? That it’s only been him for a long time.
“Yes. Only you, I promise.”
“Good girl. Now you can make yourself come for me. Let me see you, baby.” He rumbles in approval as I comply, his hand moving over his cock. “Those are my fingers fucking your pussy.”
I gasp. “Yes.”
“Wish it was my goddamn cock. I want to drive into you so bad.” With a ragged breath, he speeds up, the sound of his jerking off obscene. “On Monday I have to fuck you on your break between classes. Wear a dress with easy access so I can eat your pussy before I make you ride me. Deal?”
“Oh god,” I cry as my orgasm hits.
“Fuck, Tate.” His words slur as he releases a wrecked sound.
My eyes fly open and I watch him come, muscles tensed, his handsome features contorted in pleasure. He’s so damn hot. I keep circling my clit with my fingers as I watch, biting my lip as I slide into another eruption of ecstasy.
Once my body stops tingling with little aftershocks, I reach for the shirt and pull it over my head. Cooper hasn’t hung up yet. He smiles lazily at the screen, always languid after he has an orgasm from my experience.
“This is the part of a FaceTime hookup that makes me wish I really was there.” He huffs out a laugh. “I’m addicted to falling asleep with you after you come.”
I tug on the neckline of his shirt and hide a smile. “I wish you were, too. I sleep better when you’re holding me.”
“How do you feel? You good?” he checks.
“Yeah. That was different, but really good.” I grab my notebook as I climb into bed, not bothering to find my underwear. “Now I can check phone sex off my list in my sex journal. I also checked off public place since you smashed that one in the library. Not many things left on the list now. I’m almost a certified sexpert like you.”
He gives me a heated look and smirks. “See you tomorrow. I’ll bring you coffee. Goodnight, T.”
THIRTY-THREE
COOPER
Hollis House is popping with tiki torches, metallic green streamer curtains, and a live DJ the following weekend. The Kappa Sig frat boys went all out for the party. Their place is packed, everyone wearing bathing suits and carrying pool floats. Unlike the bonfire parties over the summer, Tatum seems more relaxed now that she’s had some practice. We got here an hour ago, and she’s been deep in conversation with Jenny, the girl from her early morning psychology class.
“Jenny and I are hitting the dance floor. This song is her jam.” Tatum hikes her clear pink flamingo float higher around her hips and presses on tiptoe to kiss my cheek.
