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When we went into foster care, we were split up. I was only two. I don't remember our biological parents or foster care. Charlie doesn't remember much, either. But Adalynn, Heidi, and Leia do. They're overprotective as a result of everything we went through. I can't be angry at them for that. I'm alive because of them.
Had they not been there, I would have died in that house. And had Adalynn not gone for help, we would have starved. We were separated so I survived. I love them so much. But we aren't those little girls anymore.
They've all grown up and gotten married and moved on. At some point, they have to learn to let me grow up too.
Another pops up on my screen while I'm still looking at theirs.
Have you touched my pussy, Dilemma?
My core clenches as soon as I read it, thoughts of my sisters immediately vanishing from my head.
Bronx.
How the heck did he get my number?
Me: Sorry. You have the wrong number.
I barely have time to slip into my bed before my phone rings. I glance at the number on the screen and giggle.
"Hello?"
"Stop fucking with me," Bronx growls. "I know where you live."
"How'd you get my number?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
What was it he said to me earlier tonight?
"Yes, actually. People generally ask questions when they want to know the answers, Bronx."
"I miss that smart-ass mouth already, Gemma."
My stomach turns somersaults as my heart flutters. "I miss you too," I whisper, snuggling up in my bed. "And the answer to your question is no."
"Good girl," he practically purrs.
I clench my thighs together, groaning loudly. "You can't talk to me like that right now. You aren't here and I'm alone in my bed."
"Yeah? So you don't want to hear how fucking hard I am right now?" His voice is pure grit. "You don't want to know that I've got my dick in my hand right this second?"
"Bronx," I whimper.
"This is your punishment for breaking the rules, Dilemma. Good girls get rewarded. Bad girls don't get to fucking come," he growls. "They get to listen while I do."
Oh, God.
I grip the phone tight, my toes freaking curling at the sound of his voice.
"Jesus, baby, I can hear how fast you're breathing right now," he rasps. "You're soaked, aren't you?"
"Yes." I press my thighs together, shifting restlessly in an attempt to get friction where I need it, but it's a fruitless attempt.
"Mmm. I can't wait to feel it for myself. Next time I jerk off, I think I'll use your juices for lube," he says. "You can get me nice and wet and then watch."
"Bronx," I groan, flipping onto my stomach. I grind my hips against the mattress, but that doesn't help either. Inspiration strikes. He said I couldn't touch myself, but he didn't say I couldn't use assistance. I hit the speaker phone button and quickly scramble to my knees, grabbing one of the throw pillows that go on the bed.
I place it on the bed and then lay across it, wiggling until it's where I want it. It presses against my clit, offering me friction for the first time all night. I bite my lip, fighting to stifle a moan.
