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“Oh,” the word whooshed out of me, sounding airy.
Oh was a stupid response. I was supposed to say something flirty, something coy. Just something.
But I found my mind suddenly blank.
“Tell me you’ve been thinking about it too,” he demanded, his voice low, deep, husky. “Tell me you’ve been thinking about that night, you on the bed, me between your thighs, tongue moving over your sweet pussy until you were whimpering, begging for release.”
He stopped there, waiting for a response. “I’ve been thinking about it too,” I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper.
“Yeah?” he asked, voice even rougher, and I could imagine him half a world away, alone in a hotel room, hand reaching inside his pants and boxer briefs to free his straining cock. The idea made my sex clench hard as a rush of wet met my panties. I knew where this was going. There was a second of hesitation, of uncertainty. Phone sex, for all intents and purposes, sounded incredibly awkward. But then again, I guess I had never imagined it with someone like Quin. Quite frankly, anything with Quin, I was convinced, would be sexy as hell. “I was greedy last time,” he told me, voice low, rumbling.
“No, you…” I started to object, only getting cut off.
“I needed to be inside you too much. But what I really want to do is lick that sweet clit of yours until you’re screaming my name. And just as you are coming back down, thrust my tongue in your tight pussy, fucking you until you come against my mouth again.”
Whatever I said about this possibly being not sexy, yeah, forget all that.
My thighs clamped tight together, the pressure between becoming acutely painful with the need for release.
“Quin,” I heard myself whimper, begging for, what? I wasn’t sure. Maybe permission. Instructions. New to this, I felt as clumsy as a virgin in bed the first time.
“You gonna slide your hand in your panties for me, babe?” he asked, reading the moment, knowing what I needed. “Think about me pulling out my tongue, and pushing two fingers in instead, fucking you just how you need it now, fast and steady, driving you right up to that edge again.”
There was no way I couldn’t follow his instructions. My hand slid into my panties, thinking of his fingers instead of my own, my back arching slightly against the couch cushions, my eyes closed, trying to imagine I was there with him, in his hotel, feeling his hands on me, his lips teasing over my neck and breasts, his voice in my ear.
“But I wouldn’t let you come this time; not yet,” he told me, his voice all gravel, sounding like his jaw was tight with tension. All I had in response was a long, loud whimper. “I’d slide my tongue up your inner thigh, your stomach, over your nipples, sucking them until you’re arching into my mouth. Then I’d shift my hips, let my cock slide up your wet pussy until you are writhing underneath me, begging me to fuck you.”
“Quin, please,” I moaned, feeling my walls tighten, wanting the blissful end.
“Yeah, something like that,” he agreed. “Only then would I slide my cock inside your tight pussy, feel you rock up against me as I fuck you – slow at first, then harder as your nails dig into my back, as your moans get loud enough to wake the neighbors.” Even as he said it, I heard my moan escape my lips, something that never usually happened when I touched myself. I guess it was completely different when I wasn’t exactly alone. “You gonna come for me, baby?” he asked, voice strained. I knew that when I did, he would too.
And, somehow, that realization pushed me right over the edge.
“Fuck yeah,” he growled as I cried out his name, the waves washing over me until my body felt weak and heavy, until just keeping the phone to my ear was taking actual effort with my weak limbs. “Christ, it sounds good when you call my name when you come,” he said a moment later, sounding a little winded too.
Unsure what to say, if I even was capable of saying anything, a low rumbling sound escaped me.
There was a long pause before he broke the silence again. “Aven…”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t call you just for this.”
“It’s okay if you did,” I admitted, knowing it was true. I would take him any way I could get him.
“I told you friends,” he said.
“We’re still friends,” I insisted. There was a long silence on his end, the only sound what seemed to be an epic yawn. “You need to get some sleep,” I reminded him, slowly folding up, the magic of the moment seemingly gone, just reminding me how alone I actually was, what distance there still was between Quin and me – both literal and figurative.
