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“Bentley, I want your fingers shoved inside you. Now,” I tell her. “Are you wet? Is the thought of what I can do to your body making you wet, baby girl?”
“Yes.” Her response comes out on a breathy moan. “I’m so wet.”
“Good girl. Now pump those fingers in and out. Imagine that their mine. That I’m shoving my fingers as deep into that tight little cunt of yours as I can possibly go.”
“Oh god,” she groans.
“That’s it. I want to hear you come for me, baby girl. I want to hear you pleasure yourself, knowing that if you would have just come home, it’d be me pleasuring you right now.”
“If I went to your place, I’d probably be asleep right now,” she says.
“Bentley, press your thumb against your clit,” I instruct her.
“Okay.”
My own hand is fisting up and down my shaft. My fingers coated in precum, I squeeze tighter, not ready to be done with this conversation just yet. “Bentley, rub your thumb in a circle around that sweet little bud. If you were here, I’d be sucking on it right now,” I tell her.
“Mmm, I like when you do that,” she whispers.
“You like everything I do to that body of yours,” I tell her. “I’m so fucking hard for you right now. My cock is aching with the knowledge that it can’t sink into you.”
“Maybe we can meet for breakfast,” she says.
“Deal, but I want to hear you come for me first. Curl those fingers up inside your pussy. Pump them harder, faster.”
“I can’t… oh god… Nathan….” she moans, and I hear it. The moment she comes.
My hand slides up and down my cock faster, my cum squirting right up my stomach in ropes. “Fuck me,” I hiss out.
“At breakfast,” Bentley says, and then the line cuts out.
She fucking hung up on me again.
TWENTY-THREE
“Morning. Sleep well?” my mum asks me as I grab a cup from the overhead cabinet. I need caffeine and a lot of it right now.
“I’ve slept better.” I shrug, moving my tired-ass body to the coffee machine and pressing the buttons.
“What’s on your mind?” Mum asks. “You haven’t been around much.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just… I met someone, but I’m not sure if I should like him as much as I do, you know?”
“Why?”
“Because sometimes I feel like, if I let myself, I will forget who I am to accommodate who he is and what he wants.” I sigh, taking a seat at the counter.
My mum finishes making the coffee I started, then places the cup in front of me. “Why do you think you’ll forget yourself?”
“Because I want to make him happy,” I tell her.
“That’s not a bad thing, Bentley, as long as his desire to make you happy matches it.”
Does Nathan want to make me happy? I’m almost certain he does. He’s attentive—that’s unquestionable. Probably the most doting guy I’ve ever been with.
“So does this mystery man have a name?” Mum presses.
“Um, he does.” I avoid answering her. She has no idea I’m talking about my boss.
