“Do you know what I would do to you if I were there?” Ben’s voice drops seductively, his body leaning toward the screen like he’s caught in a magnetic pull.
Do you know what the sexiest thing a man can do is? Treat you like you’re the sexiest thing. Ben’s gaze is drinking me in, and apparently the boy is parched.
“What would you do?” My voice dips to match his.
“I would tear that shirt off you.”
“Funny, I was thinking I’d do the same to you.”
Ben grabs the hem of his blue T-shirt and pulls it up just enough to flash me a glimpse of his abs flexing underneath. “This shirt?” he teases.
My heartbeat quickens and my face flushes. I nod, and he lifts the shirt over his head in one deft motion. My hand reaches for the screen reflexively as my body floods with desire.
“Does that chest feel as good as it looks?” I wonder aloud.
Ben runs his hand across his pectorals, then traces his fingers slowly down to his abdominals. “They’re hard and strong,” he tells me.
A soft purr escapes my lips.
“Now, your shirt,” he demands.
I stand and pull the green tank over my head. My face and chest burn as I blush at being exposed.
Ben smiles. “Now the bra, please.”
I comply, tossing the black lace to the floor, though I keep my left arm crossed protectively over my breasts.
“Tease.” He cocks an eyebrow and winks.
I drop my arm, and his guttural moan rewards me.
“Beautiful.”
My blush deepens with the compliment.
“Rub them for me,” Ben pleads.
I obey, and on screen he leans back, slipping his hand into his jeans. I unbutton my own, freeing my wrist so I can move more easily.
“How is it?” he rumbles.
“Wet,” I answer. My brain fogs with desire. I see the craving mirrored in Ben’s darkening eyes, green storm-tossed like a forest in a gale.
“Why don’t you get those jeans out of your way?” he asks.
I stand again, turning around first to wiggle my ass before sliding the denim down. When my thong is revealed, I hear his breath hitch. The power of having that effect on him surges through me like a drug. Confidence blooms, and soon I’m stepping out of my panties, dropping them on the growing pile of clothes.
When I sit back down, Ben has lowered his jeans just enough to free himself. He’s grown impressively, and the sight sends heat rushing through me.
“Come through the screen,” he begs.
“And straddle you?”
In answer, Ben’s hand moves faster.
I match his rhythm with my own, my gaze locked on the flex of his chest and the tension in his jaw. Pressure coils inside me, sharp and urgent, until a moan slips past my lips. I teeter on the edge, my head falling forward, eyes squeezed shut as release tears through me. My muscles clench tight around my fingers, and another cry escapes.
“Liz.” My name crashes through the air, but I can’t bring myself to look at him until my energy ebbs.
