Page 109 of Wicked Ruin

He knows how to push my buttons and how to make me ache for him.

I put the phone on my bedside table just as his video call comes in. He’s in bed, naked from the waist up, his hair all tumbled and sexy, and his eyes on me.

“Are you wet?” he asks me.

“Might be.”

“Good girl. I want you to grab your nipples between your fingers and roll them. That’s right, baby, just like that,” he whispers. “What a good girl. I want you to make yourself come while I watch you.”

“I’m tired,” I say, but of course I’m not going to stop now.

The sound of his voice rolls over me, his dominance. I want this—I want him.

“Are you happy?” I ask him as I finger myself and grab my nipple. My hips rise off the bed, and I moan, getting there.

“Keep going. I want to know what you feel like right now.”

“You could come over.”

“I know,” he says, “but not tonight, baby.”

Why? Why does he always say that? “What were you saying?” I ask because my voice is getting shaky, and my eyes are growing hazy.

“I was saying I want you to touch yourself and think about my hand inside you instead of yours.”

“Oh, I miss your hand inside me.” I moan as I circle my clit and pinch my nipple, and my hips jerk.

“Is it working?”

“Little bit.”

“Liar,” he whispers, and that’s when I realize he’s alone in his room, and his hand is moving like he’s stroking his own cock. My need to come intensifies. “Close your eyes.”

So I do. I close my eyes and pretend he’s there. His voice rumbles over me, sexy as fuck.

“Remember the chair and what I did to you in that chair?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want you to remember exactly how it felt when I had you in it: my hands, my mouth, the way I took my time, even when you were asking me not to.” He whispers, “Do your fingers feel good?”

“Not as good as yours, but they’ll do.”

“Good girl. Tell me when you’re close to coming.”

“I’m getting there. I guess pregnant women do like sex. At least this one does. When it’s with you.”

“I love that. That’s my girl. Just like that. Do it.” So I do. My hips rise, and pleasure builds until I’m moaning, my eyes closed, blissed out and orgasming under my covers.

“That’s it. Good girl, sweetheart. Just like that, love. That’s my girl.”

I’m spent on the bed, panting and tired, basking in the sound of his praise.

“My god, you’re beautiful. Do you know that?”

“You’d see me better if you were here,” I whisper.

“I know. Go to sleep, love. I love you.”