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There was something wildly beautiful about it.
When she began to quiet, I whispered, “How did that feel?”
“I ... can’t even breathe, just like the night in the stairwell.”
“Are you still inside yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Put the phone by your hand. As you start to wind down, I want to hear the wetness hitting your fingers.”
There was movement, and then I got the sound I wanted to hear.
The drips of wetness, the impact they made when they collided with her skin.
“Goddamn it.” As I took in that noise along with her moans, my dick threatened to get hard again. “You’re amazing, Love.”
There was a bit of stirring, and then: “I slid out.”
“Is your body feeling sensitive?”
“Extra.”
I held the phone with my shoulder as I walked to the bathroom to wash my hands. “How else do you feel?”
“Well, here’s a bit more honesty for you. No one has ever made me feel this satisfied. And this need ...”
“A need for what?”
“More.”
I turned off the water, staring at myself in the mirror. My cheeks flushed. My hair half-dry. My pupils expanded, almost dilated.
But underneath those physical changes was something else.
A feeling.
A feeling that equaled exactly what she wanted.
More.
What is Love doing to me?
I shook my head, returning to the moment, and said, “Are you telling me I’m the best you’ve ever had?”
“Yes.”
“You know, the more I learn your body, it’s only going to get better.”
“I’m afraid of that.”
I still focused on my reflection but paused my movements. “Says the girl who isn’t afraid of anything.”
She was quiet for a moment. “I wasn’t ... until you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Me:Good morning, gorgeous. I’m back from Manhattan and I’d love to see you. Are you free tonight? Tomorrow?
