Page 10 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

Leonid Volkov: That’s not an answer.

I giggle into the dark.

Me: Would you be jealous if I did?

Leonid Volkov: Answer the question, Laurel.

Before I can type back, the screen lights up with an incoming call. His name. My thumb hovers, then swipes. I bring the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

His voice rolls through the speaker, deep, rough, accented. “Do you?”

Hearing him speak does obscene things to me. My thighs clench again, nipples tightening against the thin cotton of my tank top.

I don’t answer right away.

“Laurel.” It’s a reprimand. The tone alone sends a shiver straight down my spine. I almost moan.

“No,” I whisper.

“No what?”

“No… I don’t have a boyfriend.”

A low growl rumbles through the line. “You’re being a bad girl, teasing me like that.”

Heat floods me. “What are you going to do about it?” I ask, voice shaky. “Punish me?”

Another growl, deeper this time. “Keep talking like that, and I will.”

I shift under the covers, thighs rubbing together. “Tell me how.”

“Take off your clothes.”

My breath hitches. I set the phone on speaker and place it on the pillow beside me, then peel the tank top over my head, shimmy out of my sleep shorts and panties. Cool air hits my skin, making me shiver.

“They’re off,” I whisper.

“Good girl.” His voice is darker now, rougher. “Lie back. Spread your legs for me.”

I obey, heart hammering.

“Touch yourself. Slow. Tell me how wet you are.”

My fingers slide down, finding slick heat. I gasp. “So wet.”

“Fuck.” The word is growled. “Circle your clit slowly.”

I do, moaning softly as pleasure sparks through me.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Now slide a finger inside. Feel how much you need me stretching you.”

I push in, the stretch making my hips lift off the bed. “Leonid…”

“Say my name again.”

“Leonid.”