Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
OK.
Shit, I wish it were my hands on you. Tease your nipples for me. Get them hard.
They’re already hard, I admitted.
Then pinch them. Lightly.
I obeyed, a small moan rising from my chest.
Now a little harder.
I did that, too. It feels good.
I bet it does.
A new thought occurred—one that made my hips roll in a little circle against the silky sheet below me. Are you touching yourself?
Yes.
He admitted it so easily. Why was it so hard, even in such a safe, anonymous setting such as this, to talk about this kind of stuff? I was both afraid he’d take this farther… and worried that he might not.
Squeeze your breasts together. Are you imagining me doing that?
Yes. The area between my legs was growing hotter by the moment and blood was rushing to it.
Good. God, I wish I could watch you. But I’ve got a pretty good imagination.
That made me blush, but didn’t scare me off.
Slide your hand down your body. Slowly. How does that feel?
Good. And kind of dangerous.
That’s because I suspect you haven’t yet learned how a man can worship your body and make you scream. But maybe this can give you a hint. If you’re willing.
I am.
Good. Cup your mound. Is your skin hot?
Scorching.
God, I wish I could feel that.
Is your skin hot? I texted, my cheeks flooding with heat.
My cock, you mean. I could tell he was testing out the word, seeing how I would react.
Yes. It was a short answer, but it felt like a big step for me.
It’s scorching. I’m squeezing it with my fist and imagining that it’s your hand on me.
I didn’t know what to say to that, though my breathing was growing faster by the second.
He continued on. Spread your legs.
Damn, how could such a short command make my blood pound between my legs? A feeling of tension that was almost uncomfortable rocketed through me, but I did as he said.
Trace the line of your slit with your index finger. I don’t know how, but he seemed to know that I was doing as he asked.
And enjoying it.
Has anyone ever touched you there?
I thought about refusing to answer the question, as he sometimes did, but who was I kidding? He knew I was a virgin. No.
Good. Dip your finger in between your lips.
OK. It’s so slippery.
I wish I could taste it.
You do?
Very much so. Spread the moisture around, up and down your folds.
My breathing grew more ragged as I did. My nipples were still hard, and pressing against the weight of the heavy blanket.
Does it feel good?
Really good.
I wish I could see the look of pleasure on your face. Have you ever rubbed your clit before?
No. But once, when I stayed over at a friend’s house, there was a handheld showerhead in their bathroom, and I discovered how good it had felt to direct the water to that specific spot.
Do it for me. Do it now.
I wiggled my finger around until I found the swollen little nub, and I moaned, dropping the phone. The screen went dark, and I had to use two hands to pull up his messages again. It’s hard to do that and type.
Tell me about it. I think that whole typing with one hand thing is a little easier for guys.
I didn’t entirely know what he was talking about, but I didn’t care. It felt really good before I had to take my hand away.
Then don’t.
What do you mean? I was a little hurt that he didn’t want to continue this through to completion.
Don’t waste those hot little hands on something as ordinary as the phone screen. Use them to make yourself scream instead. Time to go hands-free, babe.
I don’t understand.
Call me, he texted, and my breath caught in my throat. I’ll type to you, and you can answer me out loud.
My heart rate doubled. I don’t think I can.
You’re wrong. I know you can. Just do it, Hailey. Give your body what it wants. Don’t think, just do it.
My mind wasn’t entirely on board, but my hand obeyed his orders. I hit the call button next to his name, something I never thought I would do.
Good girl.
Suddenly my mouth was dry. “Can—can you hear me?”
The answer came by text. Yes. There was no sound from his end of the call. He must’ve muted it.
Stroke yourself from your tight little hole all the way up to your clit. I want to hear you.
I did what he asked, but that didn’t really sound like something he’d be able to hear.
Again.
I kept stroking my slippery, heated skin, and then I moaned. He had to have heard that.
God, that sounded so damn hot. Circle the tip of your finger around your clit.
I propped the phone screen up against a pillow and used one hand to spread myself open, and the other to do as he asked.