“So what sorts of things did you fantasize about?” she asked, her voice lower. Huskier. My fingers slowed, sliding upward to catch the sensitive skin right below my dick’s head. Shit, that was good. Her tongue would be even better.
“Long list,” I told her, sinking back into the pillow. “Used to think a lot about your mouth.”
“Really? And what was I doing with my mouth?”
“Let’s just say I enjoyed the blow job,” I replied, opting not to share that the full fantasy involved fucking her face with her pigtails as handles. See? I’m not a total tool.
“Well it seemed like a good idea at the time. Friday was incredible, by the way. Just thinking about it makes me so . . .” She giggled. “Okay, talking like this feels weird—like I’m in a bad porno.”
“Melanie, believe me when I say it’s a very, very high-quality pornographic production,” I replied, catching my pre-come with my fingers to use as lube. “I like it so much I’ve got my dick out and I’m jacking off while you talk. Not sure how long I’ll last here, but probably not more than a few more minutes, so please finish that fucking sentence.”
“Okay,” she said, and I heard the smile in her voice. “Just thinking about it makes me so wet.”
I bit back a groan.
“How do you know you’re wet?” I asked, barely more than a whisper.
“Because I’m touching myself,” she said. “I started with my clit, then started to move lower. Now I’m going back and forth between my clit and my . . .”
Her voice trailed off as burning, twisting need tore through me. The hand on my cock moved faster.
“Jesus, I want back inside you,” I admitted. “You got the tightest pussy I’ve ever felt, Mel. Never been with another girl who felt half as good.”
“You’re not too bad yourself,” she whispered, her voice starting to sound strained. “I used to think about you, too. Before, I mean. I used to lay in my bed and read your letters, and then I’d do exactly what I’m doing right now—touch myself.”
My hips arched up. Oh shit. Close now. Just had to hold on to the fantasy that it was her fingers doing the work, and not mine.
“Did you make yourself come—when you were thinking about me, I mean?”
She didn’t answer for a minute, but I heard a little gasp.
“Yes,” she said, her voice rough. “I’d touch myself and come so hard, thinking about you. Imagining what you’d feel like inside me . . . What it would feel like if you took me from behind. Whether you’d tie me up. Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that.”
Fucking hell. Mel had a kinky side. I must’ve done something absolutely incredible in a past life to deserve this, because I sure as shit hadn’t earned it in this one.
“I could do that,” I said, my voice husky. “And a hell of a lot more.”
“Oh,” she said, her voice breathless and uncertain. “Painter?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you like, into bondage? Because I know I said I’ve thought about you tying me up, but I’m not really—”
I burst out laughing. She went silent and then I realized she was probably embarrassed. Shit. Needed to be more careful.
“Mellie, I’m into you,” I told her. “We can play whatever games you want, but that whole formal bondage thing isn’t my kink. There’s a lot of territory between having fun tying a girl up and whipping her to get off. We’ll do whatever you want, and I guarantee that so long as you’re naked, I’ll be happy.”
“That sounds good,” she said, still breathless. “Just so you know, if you were here I’d be licking the underside of your cock right now. You know that little notch? I didn’t get to explore it as much as I’d like yesterday morning . . . and I’ve never tried deep-throating a guy before, but I wouldn’t mind giving it a shot with you.”
Better.
Than.
Christmas.
“Are you still fingering yourself?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “And I’m getting closer. It feels like I’m all heavy down there, like there’s a string inside me spooling up between my legs . . . pulled tight . . . it hurts but it feels so good and I really, really don’t want it to stop.”
I was gonna get calluses on my hand at this rate. Goddamn it, but I wished that was her jerking me off instead of me. I was close, though—the pressure was tight in my balls, making it hard to think. Making it hard, period.
“What are you doing with your fingers?” I asked.
“I’m moving one in a circle, right over my clit . . . I’m pushing down and going faster, because I’m really close. I’m so wet I can feel it running down my crack—ugh. Did that sound gross?”
I licked my lips, holding back a moan.
“No, it sounds hotter than fuck,” I admitted. My balls were a pressure cooker, full of hot come just for her. I’d fill her up, keep her prisoner in my bed, just for me.
Suddenly the whole slave-girl thing was sounding more interesting.
“I’m so close,” she whispered. “Tell me about—”
She screamed abruptly. I heard shouting and a loud noise.
Then the line went dead.
MELANIE
Kit Hayes exploded into my bedroom, followed by Jessica. They were screeching and shouting, oblivious to the fact that they’d caught me in the act. I squawked in shocked horror, dropping the phone. Thank God I’d been under a blanket—wasn’t sure I could live it down if they’d caught me bare assed, wanking like a total perv.