My head popped up, my eyes bulging. “What?”
“I’m more than happy to sit back and let you run the show if you don’t want me to talk you through how to make yourself come.”
“No. I . . . I just don’t see how that accomplishes the goal,” I countered.
A sexy, wicked grin curved on his lips. “Oh, Kitten. You’re gonna have to trust me on this.”
Trust. He’d asked for that once before. When he was buried half-deep inside me, and I hadn’t been sure he could make the rest fit.
Honestly, I didn’t trust anyone. I’d learned that lesson the hard way one too many times.
But I could admit that in a sexual capacity, he made me feel safe. That was close enough, right?
Blowing out a breath, I closed my eyes, letting my head drop back onto the mattress, and my hands skimmed over my stomach toward the curves of my breasts.
“That’s my girl,” Sasha coached through the phone. “Give ’em a squeeze for me.”
My hands kneaded the flesh of my chest, and I couldn’t stop the moan from rising up my throat. They were so heavy and full, and my touch wasn’t nearly enough.
“Pinch your nipples. Tug on them hard enough to give a bite of pain.”
Blood roared in my ears as a heady mix of arousal and anticipation created a steady throbbing between my thighs.
I rolled my hardened nipples between my fingers, gasping when it shot a bolt of pleasure straight to my core.That’swhy he had me doing this. God, how had I never discovered this before?
“Harder,” he commanded, his ragged breathing matching my own.
Gripping harder, I tugged, my back arching as sensations threatened to overwhelm me. My hips shifted, trying to ease the ache, but I neededmore.
“Look at you. Desperate and writhing. I bet if I were there, you’d willingly crawl on your knees to me, begging for my cock. Isn’t that right, Kitten?”
“God, yes,” I whined, the picture he painted making me pant. I would give anything to have him here, touching me, filling me up.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna make sure you come, even though I’m a jealous asshole, because it’s your hands doing all the work, not mine.”
“Please.” My breathy voice sounded foreign to my ears.
“Go ahead and slide one hand between your legs. See how wet you are for me.”
There was a beat of hesitation. Any time I’d attempted self-love, I’d done so with a vibrator, not that it had done much good. Never had I used my hands.
“Come on, Gemma. Don’t be shy.”
He didn’t understand. It wasn’t shyness holding me back. It was inexperience. More than that, it was the fear of letting him down, that I wouldn’t be able to live up to whatever fantasy he had of watching me play with myself until I reached a climax.
A sigh sounded from where my cell was propped on the nightstand. But it wasn’t one born of frustration. It was softer, like he was mulling something over in his mind.
“Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
I folded my lips in, working up the courage to lay myself bare—emotionally this time, since he’d already stripped me physically naked.
“I’ve never done it like this,” I confessed.
“On the phone?”
“No. Well, yes. I’ve never done this over the phone before. But what I mean is, I’ve never . . . touched myself. Not like this.”
“That’s okay.” The deep timbre of his voice had the power to lull me into a trance.
