“I fear it would take fewer than five strokes considering how turned on your voice makes me.”
“I want to stroke your cock.”
“I want to lick your dimples and tease your pussy with my fingers.”
My legs squeeze together. “Simon?”
“Touch your pussy for me, Bea. Slip your fingers under that lace and play with your clit.”
I lean back on my bed and do exactly as I’m told, imagining my fingers are Simon’s, that he’s rubbing my clit with his thumb while his fingers tease the slick, wet skin between my thighs. “Feels—so—good,” I whisper.
“Are you wet?”
“Soaked.”
He groans softly again. “I want to feel you.”
“I want to taste you.”
A strangled noise comes through the phone.
I slip two fingers inside myself. “Simon?”
“Yes, my beautiful minx?”
“Are you hard?”
“As granite, love.”
“Stroke yourself.”
“Bea, I am so utterly close?—”
“I—am too.”
“You should—come first.”
My head rolls back on the mattress, thighs open, the lace of my thong soaked. “I wish you were here.”
“God, Bea.” He’s panting.
Panting and gasping softly, and I want to be there with him.
Iwant to be jerking his cock. I want to cradle his balls and feel him on top of me, pumping inside me, kissing me.
“I want you to touch my breasts again,” I whimper.
I’m close.
Soclose.
“I would like to worship your whole body.” His voice is strained. I picture him with his eyes half-closed, watching me touch myself, and my entire body comes unraveled.
“Oh god, Simon, I—I’m coming,” I gasp as I come in one hard, fast spasm. It spreads immediately into heavy aftershocks that travel from my toes to my fingertips to the roots of my hair.
“Thank fuck,” he gasps, and then he’s groaning softly again.
“Are you?” I pant.
