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He undid his jeans, kicked them off, and lay down naked on the bed, his dick high and thick and throbbing purple against his belly.
“Sure. Just pretend there isn’t a naked man in bed next to you with a huge, aching hard-on from watching your tits bounce all day.”
“You had plenty of opportunity to slake your lust. A normal man would be in a coma from the amount of sex we had.”
“I’m not normal,” he said.
“I noticed that,” she retorted. “Maybe you should see a doctor.”
“I can think of a quicker, yummier solution.”
Her eyes flicked down to his cock. He stroked it for her benefit, with a rough, careless jerk of his fist. Inciting the beast.
She rolled onto her belly and buried her face in the pillow. “I am ignoring you,” she informed him, her voice muffled. “Good night, Sean.”
“Go ahead.” He slid between the sheets. “It won’t stop me from dreaming. Fantasizing. Like I’ve been doing for fifteen years now.”
Her head popped up at that. “Oh, really?” she asked. “Like you’ve had the time to fantasize about me, what with the psycho billionaires and terrorists and mad scientists and evil warlords, and bullets flying? To say nothing of the hordes of women parading through your bed.”
“You’re still way up top, when it comes to my fantasy life,” he told her solemnly. “Remember that day in the historic collection room?”
She made a muffled sound he couldn’t decipher. He decided to take it as assent. “All I have to do is crack the spine of an old book, and I’m back there,” he said dreamily. “Stone hard. With my fingers in your tight, hot, juicy cunt. Feeling you come.”
She ignored him.
“The harder I pushed, the hotter you got.”
She pushed her face back into the pillow.
“You used to get so red when I whispered sexy stuff in your ear.” His voice lowered to a silky soft croon. “Turn around, Liv. Let me see your face. Look at me. Are you getting pink yet?”
She shook her head violently, face still hidden. “Not in the least.”
“I bet nobody had ever talked dirty to the virgin princess before that, huh? But I’ve never been able to keep my mouth shut to save my life.”
“That’s for damn sure.” The words were muffled, but the note of quivering laughter reassured him. He pushed hopefully on.
“Remember how I used to talk to you on the phone? I always told you to touch yourself while I did, and you always told me no, no, no, you wouldn’t. No, no, no, you couldn’t. But I think, maybe…just maybe you were lying to me.” He paused. “Were you?”
She didn’t speak. A triumphant grin wrapped itself around his face. He tried to curb it. It was too soon to get cocky and over-confident.
“I thought so,” he went on. “It was torture. We didn’t have a phone at the house back in those days. So it was me, in a public phone booth, people all around me, so I couldn’t even grab my dick. Imagining you in your lacy, virginal bed. Those soft white thighs, open wide. Holding the phone with your shoulder while I described exactly how I wanted to touch you, lick you, suck you. Put my cock into you.”
She wiggled, restlessly, beneath the coverlet. He edged closer.
“I imagined your hand in your panties,” he went on. “Touching yourself `til your pussy was hot and puffy and slick. It was agonizing.”
She nodded, her face still hidden.
“Tell me something, baby. Did you ever put your finger into your pussy and imagine that it was me?”
She looked up through a tangled veil of hair, a gleam of reluctant laughter in her eyes. “Duh.”
“Yeah? Really?” He edged closer still, so that he could sniff that honeysuckle smell. “Can I ask you an incredibly personal question?”
She shook with helpless giggles. “Like the last one wasn’t?”
He ignored that, intent upon his own curiosity. “Did you ever, ah, use a dildo when you thought of me?”
