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Looking at Kaitlynn, I can’t help but be struck by how fake everything about her seems. Not just her appearance either—the hair extensions and Instagram-puffy lips and artificially large tits—buteverything. Her attitude, her laugh, her fake enthusiasm about a potential role that I know very well isn’t what she really wants. I’d rather have heard her tell me that as happy as she is to getsomething, the bit part in a soap opera isn’t really what she was hoping for. I’d rather have gotten anything from her that seemed genuine.
Everything about Emma was genuine, almost to a fault. She would rather have pissed me off than pandered to me. She didn’t mind telling me when the conversation went further than she wanted it to go. And everything about her beauty was simple, as if she never really gives it a second thought.
I’ve never had a girl like Emma in my bed. They’ve all been one version of Kaitlynn or another—and I’ve never realized until this moment just how unsatisfyingly inauthentic it’s all been.
Kaitlyn finishes her drink, setting it on one of the marble coasters on the coffee table. “You could make me another,” she suggests. “Or if you’d rather I pay attention to you for a little while—”
Her gaze drifts suggestively to my lap, and I know exactly what she’s suggesting. All I have to do is murmur a word of encouragement, and she’ll be on her knees in between my legs, those manicured fingers wrapping around my cock as she slips it into the warmth of her mouth.
I should be hard, just at the thought. But instead, I feel bored.
“Actually—” I hesitate. “I’m really tired. The tattoo took more out of me than I realized, I think. It might be best if you just head home.”
Kaitlynn doesn’t have anything resembling a poker face. The shock in her expression is patently obvious as she looks at me, sitting there still as if she expects me to reconsider. She clearly can’t believe that I’d ask her to leave without enjoying what she’s offering.
“I’ll call you,” I tell her, as sincerely as I can muster. I’m not entirely sure that I will, but I know it’s what she wants to hear. “I’m just too tired to be good company tonight.”
“I think your company is perfectly fine.” Kaitlynn flutters her eyelashes, leaning forward. “And if you’re tired, I don’t mind just taking care of you—”
“I think I’m just going to head to bed. To sleep,” I clarify. “I wouldn’t be much fun.”
She hesitates, and for a moment, I think I’m going to have to tell her to get the hell out. It’s not my usual style, but I can feel my patience fraying. Before I can resort to that, though, she gets up with a look of obvious disappointment on her face, reaching for her clutch. “I’ll—see you later, then,” she says, biting her lip before turning to leave.
The relief I feel when I hear the door close behind her is palpable. I feel a little bad for it, honestly, but not enough to not be glad that I told her to go. I finish the last of my drink, standing up and wincing at the tightness in my back. I need to rinse off in the shower, and then go about deciding how I’m going to make sure I sleep on my stomach tonight.
I carefully strip off my shirt once I’m upstairs, undoing my belt as I toss my phone on the bed. The lure of the shower is sounding better and better, and I finish undressing quickly, on the verge of heading to the bathroom, when my phone suddenly buzzes.
I let out a sharp breath, almost sure that it’s Kaitlynn again. But when I glance at it, ready to ignore the call, I see an unknown number instead.
There’s no rational explanation for the leap of anticipation I feel as I pick up the phone and answer. I’m on the verge of asking if it’s Emma when I hear a low, breathy moan, and I freeze in place.
This can’t possibly be—
“Fuck—” The moan echoes again, followed by a voice that’s unmistakably Emma’s. My cock, utterly uninterested in Kaitlynn’s flirtations earlier, stiffens so quickly that I feel briefly dizzy.
Before I can think better of it, I put the call on speaker, setting the phone down on my bed. Emma moans again, and I hear the slick, wet sound of what is undeniably something being pushed inside of her.
For an awful moment, I think she’s accidentally called me while she’s fucking someone else. But there’s no sound of anyone else, and when she moans again, I know exactly what’s happened.
She’s accidentally called me while she’s getting herself off.
My cock throbs, so stiff it nearly slaps against my abs as it lurches with arousal. I wrap my hand around it without a second thought, gritting my teeth to keep quiet as I slide my hand downwards, rubbing my thumb over the swollen head. I’m already leaking pre-cum, my arousal from earlier back full-force, and all I can think of is what Emma must look like right now, naked and spread open on her bed as she fucks herself.
“Oh, ohgod—” She whimpers with pleasure, that wet thrusting making me ache with a near-painful need to be the one inside of her right now. My hips jerk forward, thrusting into my fist as I listen to her masturbate, the illicitness of it only making it all feel so much more intense. It’s been a while since I’ve needed to jerk off to satisfy myself—there’s always someone willing to come over for a roll in the sheets instead—and I don’t remember it ever feeling this good. It takes everything in me not to moan as I rub my palm over my weeping cockhead, knowing if I make a sound, she’ll realize what she’s done.
I desperately want to hear her come. I want to come with her when she does.
A release that is, surprisingly, sneaking up on me far faster than I would usually anticipate. I slide my hand down to squeeze the base of my cock, staving off the orgasm just in time to hear Emma’s breathy moan fill the room again.
“More,Dante,please—”
My cock throbs and swells, the repeated clench of my hand the only thing that stops me from erupting on the spot at the sound of her moaning my name. It takes me a second to register that I really heard it, that it wasn’t just a part of the fantasy rapidly spinning itself in my head.
That Emma, on the other side of the call, is touching herself and fantasizing aboutme.
Maybe the attraction wasn’t as one-sided as I first believed it was.
I hesitantly slide my hand along my cock again, desperate for sensation, my hips shuddering with the urge to pound into my fist hard and fast. I can hear the sound of her doing exactly that, the quick, sloppy, erotic sounds of her toy being thrust into her again and again, and I desperately want to mimic it. But I’m so close to the edge that I’d lose control.
