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“What would you do?” I ask, my voice gritty. I know I should stop this. I’m playing with fire. Maybe even leading him on.
But I can’t help myself.
“If I was there right now? I’d be behind you, your soft rounded ass against my hard cock. I’d want you to know how turned on I am. I’d want you to know that you own me. And I’d want you to know that I own you, too.”
He does. And it scares me. I let out a squeak.
“I’d push my hands inside that t-shirt. And I know you’re not wearing a bra, so I’d tease you by tracing the outline of your breasts. I’d do it until your breath is coming in gasps and you’re begging me to touch your nipples.”
They’re already hard, pushing against my t-shirt. I’m almost certain he knows that.
“And then what?”
“I’d turn you around so you’re straddling me. Then I’d worship your tits until you don’t remember your name. You’d know mine, though, because you’d be moaning it out loud.”
“Liam…”
He runs his hand down his bare stomach, his fingers tracing the ridges. “Yeah,” he says. “Like that. I’d keep kissing and sucking and scraping my teeth against you, then I’d kiss my way down your sweet stomach to your thighs. I’d be able to smell you, and it’d make me even harder than I already am.” He slides his hand under the waistband of what I think are sweatpants, and although I can’t see what he’s doing, I know.
He’s touching himself. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as glorious as that.
“I want to see you,” I tell him. “I want to see you touch yourself.”
He squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, like he’s trying to maintain control. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I want to see your cock.” I can’t believe I just said that. And yet I love the way it makes his lips part.
He pushes his waistband down his taut hips, but I can’t see anything more because of the angle of his phone.
“Your phone,” I whisper. “You need to change the angle.”
He chuckles. “My good girl has a little bad in her.”
Yeah, I do. I remain silent as he moves the phone so I can see him in all his glory. It’s thick and veined and glistening at the tip.
“Oh…” I whisper. “It’s beautiful.”
He laughs again. “Beautiful? Seriously?”
“Yeah.” I nod, still staring at him. “It’s perfect, Liam.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Touch yourself,” I tell him, because I need to see it in action.
“You sure?”
I’m absolutely certain. “Touch yourself until you come.”
“Jesus, Sophie.” He does as instructed, fisting himself, moving his hand up and down slowly as I watch, enraptured. His thumb slides over his tip, and all I can think about is that it should be my tongue.
I want to worship it like the deity it is.
“I wish I was there,” I tell him.
“What would you do?” His voice is tighter. Almost strangled.
“I’d take my clothes off so you could look at my body,” I say, my cheeks pinking because I’m not used to talking like this. “Then I’d crawl down the bed, my hair trailing along your stomach, until my mouth is hovering just above you.”
