I obey in a heartbeat, and I coax the tips of my fingers over my clit as slowly as I can stand because if I don’t, if I go faster, I know I’ll come.
“You’re so close already, aren’t you?” Pia says, and I’m floored by how she can somehow read my mind from the other side of the world.
“It’s been a while,” I tell her.
“You haven’t found anyone to take care of you?”
“No,” I say, trying to school the horror out of my voice. Does that mean she has?
“I can relate,” she mumbles, and my heart skips far too quickly.
“Pia, I—” I begin, even though I don’t know what I want to say.
“Keep stroking, English rose.”
“I am,” I say, and I pin the receiver between my shoulder and my head so I can bring my other hand up to pinch my nipple. “Oh, Jesus, yes…”
“I love it when you curse,” she says. “It makes me feel like I’m corrupting you.”
“Pia,” I gasp, “you’ve done so much more than that.”
I expect her to laugh or to agree or maybe argue back, but she falls silent, and I don’t know why. But then I press the tip of my middle finger against my entrance and I imagine it’s Pia. Pia’s finger. Pia’s lips. Pia’s tongue.
I moan so loudly I know it must rattle down the phone line.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Your mouth,” I say, all air. “On me…”
“Where?” she asks impatiently.
“On my … On me.”
“I need you to say it,” she demands. “I need that pitch-perfect voice of yours to say dirty, dirty words.”
I arch my back. “Jesus, Pia. My cunt! I’m thinking about your mouth on my cunt!”
Now she does laugh. “Are you fucking yourself yet? Are your fingers inside you?”
“No,” I say. “Not yet.”
“Do it,” she orders, and I hear then just how ragged her own voice is. “And hold the phone down to your cunt so I can hear you. I want to hear just how wet you are.”
“Oh, God, Pia.” I close my eyes as if I have an audience to be embarrassed in front of.
“Please, Cassie, and put it really close, I want to make sure I can hear you.”
It’s her new gentle cadence that has me doing what she asks, self-consciousness flying out of the window. The receiver is in one hand, resting against my thigh, and my other hand slides into my knickers. I push my fingers inside my cunt, and I hope Pia can hear what I hear.
I bring the phone back to my ear. “Did you hear that?” I pant out as my hips rock against my hand, fucking my fingers.
“I heard,” she says. “Make yourself come, Cassie. I can’t wait any longer.”
I almost protest, because I don’t want this to be over. God knows how much this phone call is costing, but I don’t care. I will pay for it one hundred times over.
In fact, maybe we can do this again. Every few nights. Whenever it’s possible.
Maybe this could be enough.
