She curled her toes into her soft, cotton duvet. “I, uh, was sort of hoping you’d tell me?”
Rosaline chuckled, low and throaty, and a part of Poppy regretted having her on speaker, that she couldn’t hear Rosaline’s voice directly against her ear. “You’re telling me you didn’t have anything in mind when you took that picture? I mean, what did you think was going to happen? What did you think I’d say when I saw you like that, posed so pretty, like such—” Her throat clicked. “I—never mind.”
“Say it,” Poppy pleaded. “What did I look like?”
“You know damn well what you looked like,” Rosaline accused sharply. “Don’t play with me. Do you think you’re being cute? Fingers where I wished mine were, touching you, skin on—” Her throat clicked for the second time and goddamn, Poppy had never,everfelt so fucking heady. Dizzy with desire, drunk on—on power. Like even though she was on her back, waiting for Rosaline to give her permission to touch herself, it still somehow felt like she held the cards.Somecards, just enough of them. “What did you think was going to happen when you sent me that picture?”
“I thought—”
“You didn’t though, did you?” Rosaline chided softly, tongue clicking against the back of those perfect teeth Poppy had yet totaste. Wanted to—to trace. “You just wanted it. Wanted someone to tell you what to do?”
Even though Rosaline couldn’t see, Poppy still nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“Are you touching yourself?” Rosaline asked.
“No, I—”
“Don’t lie to me. I saw that hand.”
She shook her head, then remembered she was on the phone and Rosaline couldn’t see her. “I didn’t. I waited. I wanted—”
She couldn’t say it.
“You know what I think you wanted? I think you wanted permission.”
Poppy didn’t answer.
“My question is, do you think you deserve it?” Rosaline didn’t pause long enough for Poppy to answer, not even sure what her honest answer would be. “From those texts you sent me, it sounds like you’ve been working hard today. I think you deserve it. Go on.”
Poppy trailed her fingers down her belly. “How?”
Rosaline seemed to shudder. “You know what pisses me off?”
What the hell kind of answer was that? “Kind of feeling like I am right now, to be honest.”
Another of those throaty laughs came through the line. Assuming they’d do this again, Poppy was going to wear earbuds. “The other night, I feel like—” Her throat clicked. “I barely got to learn how you like to be touched.”
Being touched at all sounded good right now. “You started slow. I kind of hated that, but I—I also didn’t?” she confessed. “And then, when you didn’t let me until you said I could.”
Rosaline hummed. “Start slow then. Are your breasts sensitive?”
She ghosted her fingers back up front. “Mhmm.”
“Circle your nipples for me.”
Goose bumps rose up on her skin as she did as Rosaline asked—no, told her, and her nipples pebbled, hardening into points. “Feels nice.”
Rosaline scoffed. “Ifniceis where we’re at, we need to do better. Pinch them.”
She did, pinching her nipples between the pads of her fingers, sucking in a sharp breath at the pleasant sting.
“You make the prettiest fucking noises. Those little whimpers and gasps? Christ, Poppy.”
Her tits throbbed, heavy. “You’re touching yourself too. Right?”
“What do you think?” She laughed. “Unlike you, I’m not really a fan ofslow.”
Oh god. “Tell me?”
