Page 27 of Trusting the Fall
“I told you to keep those greedy little hands off my pussy.”
She laughs. The little devil laughs, and it’s such a beautiful sound. It’s all the best parts of her confident sass and blatant sensuality all rolled together like a song.
“I’m just getting myself ready for you. A big cock like yours needs a wet and willing home.”
“Fuuuuck,” I say, and it spills out on a groan. I can feel it vibrating from my chest to my toes. “Where are your hands, baby?”
“Do you want the good girl answer or the bad girl answer?” she asks.
“The truth.”
“Pinching my nipples,” she whispers, and I bite my lip.
“I want you to take one hand and slide it down into that beautiful pussy and tell me just how wet you are.”
I can hear the heaviness of her breath through the car speakers. Her sound is surrounding me, and it’s a heaven I can’t comprehend or explain.
The little hitch in her breath has me leaning forward as if I can reach into the phone and be there with her.
“Oh my, I’m dripping all over these sheets.” The words are playful, a feigned innocence I know she’s not capable of.
She means everything she says, and she’d never apologise for it. She just owns it like the queen she is. My beauty queen.
“How many fingers have you got in there, baby?”
“Just the one.”
“Add another.” A muffled moan sounds through the speaker, forcing my foot down on the pedal just a little harder. “Talk to me, Bombshell. What are you doing?”
“I’m slowly pushing my fingers in and out.”
“In and out of where?”
“My pussy.”
“Uh-uh. Whose pussy?” I ask, but I’m only met with more muffled moans.
Gentle hums of delight, but not the ratcheting screams I know she’s capable of. She’s just playing, warming up. “Whose. Pussy?” I ask again.
“Yours,” she whispers.
Tingles erupt over my arms and legs.
“That’s right. I want you to keep pumping those fingers nice and slow and deep. Keep her wet and ready for me, Bombshell.” I can hear the subtle shift of bedsheets. “Don’t you pick up that pace. You don’t get to finish. That orgasm is mine.” A whimper carries out and my cock thickens further in my jeans.
“Fuck, baby, you better unlock that door for me. I’ll be coming in hot when I get there.”
“How long?” she groans.
“Maybe another fifteen minutes.” The desperate whine only serves to satisfy my pride.
She’s hungry for my touch.
My attention, my kisses, my cock.
And I’m an all-too-willing servant.
“What if I can’t last that long?” she asks.
