“A blue cotton camisole with matching shorts.” I let out a sigh. “How exciting.”
“How soft, you mean. Wet cotton plastered over your tits? The best. Panties underneath?”
“No, I never go to sleep with underwear on.”
“Me neither.”
“Really?”
“Gotta let your privates breathe. Shouldn’t keep ’em covered up all the time. Isn’t natural.”
“Exactly. Although—”
“What?”
“I bet you go commando all the time.”
He only laughed.
“You do, don’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I most certainly would.
“What are you wearing now?” I asked.
“I’m in a pair of sweaty shorts. Nothin’ else.”
“Sweaty, huh? From working out or thinking about me?”
“Both. You were ruining my session.”
“And what kind of session was that exactly?”
“Meditation and then tai chi. Then, I said fuck it and hit the punching bag. Better but still no use.”
My eyes closed, picturing him in still poses, totally focused in careful concentration, and then later exploding in rapid-fire movements against a bag.
Yes, perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.
“Then, it’s my obligation to help you get over it,” I said. “Make up for the disturbance I caused you tonight.”
“Disturbance is the word, Firefly.”
My stomach dipped at the sound of his low voice almost sighing out his nickname for me.
“If you were here with me, I’d lick that sweat right off your chest,” I said.
A groan.
I leaned back onto my mattress. “I’d lick you all the way down to your navel and then tug those very, very sweaty shorts down those hips and—”
“Jill—”
“I’d rub my face in you.”
“Ah, fuck.” He let out a muffled groan. “Did you take off your shirt yet?”
“No.”
“Do it.” Exasperation, urgency laced his voice and made me drop my phone.
I tugged off my camisole and fell back on the bed, picking up the phone again. “I did it.”
“Are your nipples hard?”
“Very hard. Hard—as in, I’m listening to your voice, to the sound of your breath, and it’s making me crazy hard.”
“Squeeze your tits for me.”
I squeezed a breast and let out a soft moan at the sensation, at the sensation of him waiting and listening. “How do you want me to touch you, Bone? Tell me what you like.”
Another groan.
“Tell me,” I repeated, his heavy silence driving me insane with anticipation, with need.
“Your hand on my balls first, then rubbing all the way up my cock.”
I clenched my legs together. “I’d rub you gently then hard.”
“Yeah.” His breathing grew heavier over the phone.
“I’d kiss the top of your cock long and slow. Then, I’d suck once, twice—”
“You fucking tease.”
I licked my lips. “Hmm. Then, I’d—”
“Dip into that beautiful * for me,” he said on a hiss.
I did as he said and let out a soft moan as my clit pulsed underneath my swirling fingers.
“You wet, Firefly?”
“Very wet.” My breathing grew sharp.
“Wet for me?”
“Only for you.”
“I want to kiss you on the inside of your thighs. Up one and then down the other. Lay a trail with my tongue on your white skin. Make you dirty for me.”
I let out a moan. “I want to be your dirty girl.”
I gripped the phone, my head grinding back into my pillow, my hips circling as he told me how he wanted me to touch myself. I let his deep voice wash over me as I imagined his piercing green eyes beaming their approval, making my insides flutter, singeing my skin with their fierce heat. My breasts ached for his attention. I closed my eyes and stopped thinking. I only listened to him and did as he’d told me.
I felt the kiss of his magnificent hair splayed over my abdomen like heavy satin ribbons. I tugged on that thick hair, held on to it, as his long skillful tongue flicked over my flesh. His words were raw, his voice rough. I stroked myself faster. I came hard, muffling my sharp cries into the phone.
“Damn it, Jill—fuck.” He muttered a string of curses, grunting as he came.
My legs strangled a pillow, my body doubled over another one. “Could we make this a regular nightly thing? I’ll give up watching Jimmy Fallon. That’s huge for me. I get insomnia now all the time, you know. It’d be really helpful.”
His low chuckle settled inside me. He left me with a raspy whisper, “Get some sleep, Firefly.”
I HATED LOOSE ENDS.
I parked my bike in the back of the Tingle. I had to get this done.
“Hey, Cassandra.” I greeted the manager of the strip club.