I stop moving, stop breathing, fingers still inside me.
“Jasmine,” he says again, but sterner, darker—demanding.
But I can’t speak. Won’t.
I pull my hand away from my breast, out from beneath my hoodie, ready to end—
“Don’t youdarehang up.”
His threat rolls through me, sending more heat everywhere. But I still consider it. I could end the call now, pretend this never happened—
“Do.Not.Hang. Up.”
There’s darkness in the command now, so thick and infectious it curls into the room and the shadows flicker.
“We’re not finished,” he growls, “and until we are, you’re going to keep talking.”
Holy fuck.
I don’t think I can. I don’t think I can evenformulatewords.
“You can do it,” he murmurs, voice thick with heat, so deep and deliciously dirty that I know he’s aware of what’s happening on this side of the wall. “Tell me… what have you learnt about me?”
About him? That I want to smash through the wall and drag him down to my—
“Come on,” he breathes. “Be good for me. Tell me.”
Fucking hell.
He’s no idea what those words are doing to me. Dirty, soft praise mixed with commands, while we pretend I’m not fingering myself to his voice.
“You’re bossy,” I whisper, my fingers already moving.
He chuckles, the sound rushing all over me, encouraging me to circle my clit. “That’s it. What else, huh?”
“You’re selfless too, and brave. You feel a lot, all the time, but that’s what makes you so kind.” I could be speaking another language at this point, words barely passing my lips as they tumble out. “You’re a protector, a fighter, but you’re also possessive.”
A soft growl rumbles through the phone, and I nearly come on the spot. I’m so close and, somehow, he knows, and knowsexactlywhat I need to get me there.
“Yeah? You think I’m possessive, ana mea?”His voice a sharp whisper. “You’ve no fucking idea.”
I go from imagining his hands to… feeling them. I can feel him—
“Let go for me.”
He’s in my head.
Whendid I drop my mental wall? Probably after the first whimper… And all my lewd imaginings suddenly feel incredibly real.
These are my hands touching me, my fingers, but I feelhim.
“That’s it, let me help.”
I moan, I don’t even try to hide it, because I somehowfeelhis lips beside my ear, his hard, warm chest against my back instead of this wall.
“You need something more, don’t you?”
Without words, without prompt, there’s someone else here. In my room? My mind? I don’t fucking care anymore.
