I did as I was told, moving my hand underneath the duvet, beneath the drawstring band of my pajama bottoms, down between my legs, to the spot I knew intuitively would make me?—
Yup, I moaned.
"What do you feel, gorgeous?" he asked.
"I'm wet for you." I was. So soaked. I circled the bundle of nerves above my opening and bit at my lip to stop myself from moaning.
A vision of him over the top of me was right there in my periphery, his hard length filling me, his breath against my cheek, his beard brushing my jaw.
"Sloan," I murmured. To be honest, I wasn't entirely certain which Sloan I spoke to—vision Sloan or reality Sloan. It didn't matter though. My body was primed for both of us, and I was the only one here.
"I want to be inside you," real Sloan said over the line. "I see your picture and get your texts, and all I want is to taste you and feel your legs wrapped around my shoulders."
I pressed harder against the circle at the apex of my thighs. Circling the wetness there and letting the sensations carry me away.
"I want you, too," I said, lifting my hips for better pressure.
He wasn't even there in the same room, and the energy between us still sizzled and snapped. This wasn't sexual tension. This was straight-up desire.
"Use two fingers and take care of things for me," he said, his words low and husky. "My hands are full."
"Sloan, are you..." Getting off on this? Relaxing? Enjoying things? Going to sleep? Dabbling in a touch of embroidery while I?—
"Focus on yourself," he said. Again, like it was a command.
I was Maya, and this was insanely hot, but I didn't have to take orders from anyone, thank you.
"Maya," he said with that bedroom tone of his.
Actually, I didn't mind taking orders from him. Not like this, anyway.
Whatever, they were good orders, so who was I to question them?
I circled myself again. Slipping a fingertip down to tease my entrance, I pressed against the warm spot inside that always got me there faster.
"Tell me what you're doing?" he said.
Uh… "Touching myself." As requested, commander.
I didn't say the last part.
"You rubbing your cherry?" he asked.
"Uh-huh," I said, as I hit a nice sensitive spot that made the sound breathy.
"Flick it," he commanded.
Um, 'scuse me?
"I said to flick it, Maya," he said, again. "Use your finger and do it."
Um… that wasn't…
"Maya," he said in a growl, and I totally flicked it.
And that's how my trek up Orgasm Mountain sped up. Huh, I was breathing hard, and my heels were on the mattress, my knees bent. I didn't even care that the blankets had fallen away, and I was wide open.
I moaned. I did. My hand circled and pressed and did things exactly right.
