Page 33 of 13 Rules For Fantastic Phone Sex

Yes. A thousand times better. “I, uh, I like to tease the head… a little slippery. I like… some friction.” I’m hungry for air, for her, hauling in heaving breaths. “The circle of my fingers is tight.” Trying to stifle it, I groan as I rock my hips.

She makes a murmur of satisfaction. “Tell me everything,” she purrs, so bossy, so tempting.

“I, aah, nghh. Slow… firm. Then faster. Tighter when I’m closer.” I stroke. Working my way up and down, I squeeze hard at the base.

“Sweetheart, you’re making me wet.” She says it like the words are being dragged out of her, each of my strokes earning another word. Another groan slips out. I tell myself that our cone of candor means she’s telling the truth and is tormented too.

“Give me three fast, hard strokes. Put your hips into it.”

Sweet agony mounts with slower passes of my palm on my shaft. Phone sex with Kait is like having sex with a mind reader.

“Tell me, Henry.” Why is my name wicked and wonderful from her mouth? She knows because she murmurs, low and smoldering. “Mmmmm, Henry.” And “Oh Henry, yes, for me, that’s it, Henry” and “Fuck, Henry.” My breath hitches every time.

“I’m working my palm over the head.” I take a gasp of air. “Then all the way down my shaft. Back up and over the head again… slow as I can stand. My hand… wrapped tight. My shaft.” I’m panting, my head spinning as I squeeze, sensation rocketing along the length of my cock.

“Where’s your other hand?”

“My nipples. Twisting and fingernails digging in… ahhh.” I shudder from the heat bolting down my spine. “Harder each time.” I’m going to combust. No matter how slow I go, the fire keeps getting hotter.

“If I wanted you to know what a good job you’re doing, would sucking and nibbling on your nipples be a good reward?” The thought tears a jagged moan from me, too loud, too long. “Yes, fu—yes. Yes.” I stifle the curse, but a guttural sigh slips out. Kait telling me I’m doing a good job with her teeth? I can’t think.

“You feeling so good you have trouble talking, that’s my new life goal. You, so strung out you can barely speak, every chance I get. I’m going to tell you a secret, Mr. Sterling: it’s maddening knowing you’re stroking your cock right now and I’m too far away to help.” She lets out a long exhale. “I’m so turned on.”

She goes silent, and a momentary panic slides over me. “Kait, tell me what you want.” I have to have her voice.

“I want you saying my name as you come.” She’s whispering, low and sexy, as she teases me.

She doesn’t put on an over-the-top performance, pretending to masturbate. Still, she’s burning for me too. Smaller, more subtle tells. No fake moans, and the velvet of her chair telegraphs her restlessness. Her breaths are harsh, and she stops in the middle of a sentence, hungry for air. She may not be touching herself, but she’s excited.

“If I was there, I’d straddle you and watch you get yourself off for me. I’d get a fistful of your hair, my fingers tangling in your curls to make you look at me. Eyes locked on me, Henry,” she commands, her words hammering away at my will. Did I tell her I wanted her to look in my eyes at the end, or did she just know?

“It’s so much better with you.” I’m trying to hold back, but pretending I have control where my Kait is concerned is futile. I tell myself to slow down but go faster, a thrill spreading in anticipation.

I need.

“Henry.” A giant cleansing breath from her is the counterpoint to my ragged, heaving ones. “Fuck, Henry. I love this, I love what you’re doing, I love how you sound.”

I’m beyond logic or reason. I only feel—and hear. With perfect clarity, I hear every syllable tumbling from her mouth.

My imagination has nothing on what it’s like to have her with me while I’m stroking, telling me she’s enjoying it. Telling me she wishes it were her hand almost brings things to an abrupt end, but I squeeze the base of my cock harder and pull back from the precipice.

“I know you’re trying to hold out, baby, but I don’t need you to last longer. Stop resisting. I’m with you, babe,” she says, but then she’s silent, and the absence of her voice leaves me hollow.

“Kait. Don’t stop. I’m with…” I’m winded, straining for control. Nearing frenzied. Still, she’s silent, and I hate it. I need her voice.

“One day, I’ll watch you getting off with my name on your lips,” she finally whispers, pulling a groan from me. “Say my name with your cock in your hand.”

“Oh god, Kait, please, yes. Yes.” It’s a plea and praise for her. “Anything.”

It’s like she’s here with me when she says, “I want to be the one you think about when you stroke yourself because you want me so damn bad that you can’t control your hands.” I groan. It’s already true; I do that. “More,” she says, breathless. “Show me what more looks like.”

“Kait, I’m—” Faster. Rocking my hips harder. The image of her holding a handful of my hair while I come for her is burned into my brain.

“Need to stop.” Half words and a groan spill out, and I’m helpless to silence them. I’m getting louder, even as I will myself to stay in control.

“Don’t even think about it.” She’s determined. Fierce. “Keep going. Faster, love.”

“Kait, Kait, Kait, please. Kait. I’m going to come if I don’t stop.” I’m pleading, but I’m too close to be ashamed as I beg, too far into our game to stop playing now.