“You’re looking at the pictures?” she asked softly.
“I’ve been staring at them for an hour. I’m hard baby, real fucking hard. I can’t stop picturing your sweet little pussy rocking on my cock, where you belong.”
The long sweet gasp, that she gave me. Fuck. I could hear her imagining my hand. Her body responding before she could stop it.
She whispered, “Daddy…”
“Yeah, baby.”
“I can hear you.”
Of course she could. “And what do you think I’m doing?”
Her inhale was sharp, shaky. “Touching yourself.”
“Only because you’re not here,” I murmured. “Only because my girl isn’t in my bed like she should be.” I stroked myself harder. “What are you thinking about?”
“That I miss you.”
Not enough. Not what I wanted. “What else.”
Her breathing changed. “I wish I was kneeling for you.”
My jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “Oh, baby, say that again.”
“I wish I was kneeling for you, Daddy.”
My cock kicked hard against my grip. I tipped my head back, breathing rough.
“Baby,” I warned, “I’m close to getting in the jet.”
“You can’t,” she whispered. “It’s two?—”
“I’ll break every law between here and Harlan if you keep talking like that.”
A little laugh.
“I… could call you on video.”
Everything in my body stopped.
She’d never offered that.
“Do it,” I said. “Right now.”
The line clicked.
Screen shifted.
Dark hotel room. Then her — flushed cheeks, messy hair, wearing the black satin I’d picked for tomorrow. My chest tightened painfully.
“Camera stays on you,”
She nodded and angled it properly.
I stroked myself again, slower this time. “Show me, how you touch your pussy.”
Her hand slid down, trembling a little. She parted her legs just enough for the camera to catch the tension. Fuck, she looked soft.
