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Forty-one
Cari
I don’t think aboutwhat I’m saying. What I’m asking for. I just know that I want him—want to make him come, anyway he’ll let me.
“Patrick?” Despite what I want, I’m suddenly unsure, feel like I’m intruding somehow.
“Put the phone on speaker,” he tells me, his words and breathing more controlled than before. “Put it somewhere close so I can hear you.”
I hit the speaker icon on my phone and set it on the bed next to me. “Okay.”
“Did you put panties on?”
I swallow hard, feeling the flush of heat rush across my chest. “Yes.”
“Pull them down.”
“I’m...” I swallow past the lump in my throat, lifting my hips off the bed to pull my boy shorts down my legs. “Do you want me to take them off?”
“No.” His voice is gruff, the word nearly a groan and I close my eyes. “Leave them around your knees.”
I stop the downward progress of my hands, my fingers gripping my thighs when the cool air of the bedroom hits the wet, throbbing center of me. “Do you want me to touch myself?”
“Fuck, yes.” His growl fills the room. “Slowly...”
Sliding lower on the bed, I bend my knees slightly, opening my legs as far as the panties around them will let me. I picture him beside me, running his hand up the inside of my thigh, his fingertips slow, teasing along the wet seam of pussy. Knowing he’s listening, telling me what to do makes it impossible to stay quiet. “Patrick...” I moan his name softly. I’ve barely touched myself and I’m already halfway gone.
“Jesus...” He makes a sound deep in his throat. “Push your shirt up over your tits.”
Arching my back, I pull my shirt up until it’s hiked up under my arms. When the cool air hits my stiff nipples, I let out a whimper.
“Talk to me,” he demands. “Tell me what you’re doing.”
“I’m so wet...” I dip my fingers inside, pushing just past my lips to tease my entrance while the other rolls a nipple between pinched fingers. “My nipples are so hard they hurt... I need you, Patrick,” I tell him. “I need you here.”
Like he can see me, Patrick groans. “Fuck yourself,” he tells me, his words calm and quiet—just the way I remember. Hearing them sends a thrill straight through me. “Put your fingers inside your pussy and fuck yourself for me.”
I do as he says, sliding my fingers in as deep as I can, stroking them in and out while grinding the heel of my hand against my clit in tight circles. I say his name again, this time it comes out on a sharp gasp that has me rocking my hips against the bed to meet each thrust of my fingers.
“Tell me,” he whispers. “Tell me how good it feels.”
“So good,” I murmur, half delirious from the orgasm that’s building, low and tight, deep inside me. “It feels so good, Patrick.”
“That’s my cock,” he says, his words calm and steady between each harsh breath. Under the sound of his breathing, I can hear the faint snap of his hand, sliding and pumping along the length of his shaft. “I’m fucking you with my cock, Cari.”
My fingers push deeper, each thrust harder and faster than the next, the heel of my hand pressing heavy on my throbbing center. With my eyes closed, his harsh, uneven breath in my ear, I feel him here with me. His weight hovering above me. Thrusting inside me. “Harder, Patrick,” I beg, caught up in the fantasy he’s sharing with me. “Fuck me hard.”
“Christ, Cari.” His voice is pitched low, the way it sounds when he’s fighting for control. When I’ve pushed him too close to the edge. “I’m gonna come.”
My fingers keep pumping and plunging into my core, and I imagine they’re his cock, hot and heavy, pounding inside me. “Come inside me, Patrick,” I whisper. “I want you to come in me.”
“Fuck!” A rough shout in my ear followed by a low groan “I’m coming,” he growls, and I can feel the vibration of it shaking in my bones, his orgasm triggering my own. “Come for me, Cari,” he says, and I imagine him here with me, buried deep while he releases inside me. “Come on my cock.”
“Patrick!”
I scream his name again, my pussy clamping down on my fingers as I come, the orgasm, the first I’ve had in almost a year, so intense I feel like I’m being blown apart.