“We’ll work on that. For now, close your eyes and picture me standing at the foot of your bed.” Closing his own, he imagined Jo lying in his bed, her body, creamy skin a contrast to the black duvet, her hair splayed around her head like fire in a midnight sky. “The lights are on, and I can see every beautiful inch of you. I’m bricked up.”
“Your stroking yourself,” she whispered, the heat in her voice charging his blood.
That she’d jumped right into the fantasy surprised him. That she included him so quickly made him wonder if it wasn’t the first time. Naughty girl.
“Yes, I am.” He ached to rectify the lie, but he needed to focus on her for a beat. “I want you to touch yourself, too, but only where I tell you to.”
“Oops.”
“Explain oops. Where are you touching?”
“Where do you think?”
His dick kicked toward the ceiling. Another bead of pre-cum trickled over the head and down the shaft. “We’re not there yet, baby.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“Jo,” he warned. “Put your hands to your sides until I tell you or we’re done.”
Twin thuds and a sigh gave him the go ahead. “Put the fingers you had in your pussy in your mouth and suck on them while I fuck my hand. Do you taste yourself?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
He clenched his fists tighter as the sound of sucking tugged at the frayed thread of his resolve. Jesus, he hoped he got to third base soon. His whole body pulsed with the need to fuck her mouth.
“Trail your wet fingers to your breast.” He inhaled a breath and let it out slowly as he pictured the soft mounds of flesh and the rosy peaks. “Paint your nipple.”
A breathy sigh made him smile.
“Now, spread your legs so I can see that pretty pussy.”
She gasped. Or was that the hiss of her legs sliding across the sheets?
“That’s it, baby, but give me more. Wedge your heels against your ass and let them fall open, like the wings of a butterfly. Let me see how wet you are.”
A moan overrode the slide of sheets this time, but he heard it. She was deep into the fantasy he wove. He dove in after her, saw her clutching the duvet with one hand, fingers plucking at her nipple with the other.
“I need to touch myself,” she half-complained/half-begged, her words raspier than usual. “Want to come.”
“Soon.” Very soon. She was fucking killing him. He had to move them along. “I’m on the bed now, kneeling to worship your hot, wet cunt. So pink, and damn, Legs, you’re fucking drenched. Your little button is plump and ready.”
“I can…feel your warmth. You’re close…sitting back on you heels…your knees tucked under my legs. If you went off right now…you’d come between my legs.”
Electricity snapped through his groin, tingling at the root of his cock. Jesus Christ, she was good at this.
“Would you like that?” Grasping his dick, he ran his thumb over the head, using the fluid to lube his next hard pull. “For me to paint your pussy with cum?”
“Mmm, yes.”
Avery groaned. He would never have thought Jo liked dirty talk. “Yeah, you’re a dirty girl.”
“And you’re a fuckboy.”
“A fuckboy who’s gonna frost your tits. Show them to me. Lift them. Squeeze. Rub your thumbs over your nipples.” He paused to give her time to enjoy the sensation. “Now, pinch and roll them. Imagine I’m sucking them.” Another pause, another deep inhale and a long slow exhale. “Easy or hard? How do you like it?”
“Slow and easy. Light, not hard.”
Listening to her breathe, the escalation, the depth, Avery learned what she liked and measured every inhale, every exhale, before moving on to the next stage of seduction.
