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I wait, not at all patiently, my hand a tight fist on my phone. It’s a miracle I don’t shatter it with the tension infusing every inch of my body. Finally, my phone vibrates. I drop onto my bed, breathing heavily, my tip bulging against my pants. Pleasure leaks hotly out of me, wetness in my underwear, precome that has me thinking of her wet slit and my shaft pushing her tight walls aside as I grind up inside her.
She’s standing in her bathroom, facing the mirror, wearing PJ shorts and a tank top that outlines the shape of her breasts. She’s not wearing a bra, letting me see her needy nipples and their intoxicating shape.
Jax?she texts a moment later, nervous I won’t respond.
If I was there…I focus on typing, made difficult by my body shaking with hunger.I’d tear off that tank top and free your full breasts. I’d suck them greedily, Zoey. I’d suck them like they belong to me.
Theydobelong to me, just like every other part of her, but I don’t add that. I’ve got to remember some restraint, at least.
At the same time,I go on,I’d slide my hand up your curvy leg and tease you, massaging your thighs as your pussy gets hotter and needier. You’d start moaning in that sexy-as-hell way of yours, wanting me to slip my hand the rest of the way. But like the asshole I am, I’d keep teasing you until you were completely crazy.
CHAPTER13
Zoey
I’m back in my bedroom with my legs pushed together as I read his message, the things he’d do to me if he were here. My nipples have become as needy as he said he’d make them, as if he’s already here, doing what he promised. Sucking my nipples, teasing me by massaging my thigh inches from my pussy.
I’m already crazy for you,I reply.Would you put me out of my misery, eventually?
Downstairs, it sounds like Mom is cleaning, bustling around. She does this when she’s anxious sometimes. I wonder if it’s about work or if her nerves arise from the fact that Jax is back in her life. Maybe seeing him triggered many old memories, drawing up echoes of the old times.
When you started moaning like you couldn’t take it anymore, I’d finally press my hand against your pussy, but when I felt the pleasure jolt through you, my hand wouldn’t be enough. I’d rip off your shorts and lay you down, kneel, and then feast—FEAST, Zoey—on your hot, tight, wet pussy. I’d lick your clit slowly at first, then quicker. Are you touching yourself for me?
I glance at the door as if Mom’s going to barge in here any second, but she’s downstairs. I can hear her. I’ve got to stop thinking stuff like that. It’s ruining the moment. Never mind, the momentdeservesto be ruined with all the messiness shading this, shading us, Jax—the man I should never want and can’t stop wanting.
Do you want me to?
I’m telling you to,he replies instantly.Play with your pussy for me. Massage your clit.
What about you?I text.
I’m already stroking my cock over that photo you sent.
And texting me? You’re a talented multitasker.
Answer my question, Zoey.
I lie back on the bed, sliding my hand into my shorts. The texture of my hand against my sex is nothing compared tohishand, but the fantasy of his words lets me sink into the make-believe world.
I am now,I reply.
You’re making me so hard.
What would you do next?
I read over his last steamy message, imagining his mouth pressed against me, his tongue sliding up my folds to my clit, and then focusing there.
I’d suck on your clit and push my tongue against it, forcing you to feel every moment of the pressure, the pleasure. At the same time, I’d stroke my cock, getting myself ready to claim your virgin hole. The faster I licked you, the quicker I’d stroke, until I knew I had to drive all the way inside of you, push deep until my end is buried as far into your sopping slit as it’s possible to get. I’d fill up your virgin hole.
I gasp as I rub my pussy faster, my hand moving as if it’s got a will of its own.
I’m rubbing my pussy,I text.I’m rubbing it fast. I’m rubbing it for you.
I’d lie you on your back, naked, beautiful, perfect, and then climb atop you so you could feel my body pressing against yours. Then I’d fuck you deep and slow at first, but the passion would become too much to handle. I’d lose control. You’d turn me into an animal. I’d start fucking you hard, staring at those full tits, watching them bounce for me with each thrust. I’m so hard for you.
The lust is making me brave. With one hand busy in my shorts, my clit, and my hole aching, I struggle to send the text. Not just physically, not just because touching myself is making concentrating difficult. It’s the nerves, too, always clinging to me. I remember I’m supposed to be mad at him for telling Peter, but I can’t.
Can I see how hard I’m making you?I text.
