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“Take my underwear down,” I said, already completely lost in the fantasy.
“Ask me nicely.”
“Please! I’m so fucking hard. I need you to suck me.”
“Not yet.”
“Cillian…”
“Patience… We’re gonna make this last. I’m gonna rub you through your underwear first.”
I changed the stroke of one finger to massaging myself with the heel of my hand. It was still frustratingly unsatisfying through the fabric, but it was better than nothing.
“Not too hard,” Cillian said. “And slow.”
I slowed down, the stimulation even more inadequate. “Faster,” I urged.
“Not yet. I want to see you.”
I shuffled my chair back from the screen. “How’s that?”
“Yeah… Nice.” Cillian’s voice was breathy. “You’re so hard. Run your thumb over the tip. Yeah, just like that. Feel how damp you are. I can see it seeping through your undies.”
I glanced down to find there was indeed a damp patch, my cock producing pre-cum in greater quantity than I was used to. When I went to pull my underwear down, Cillian made a warning sound in his throat. “If you do that before I say you can, I’m ending this call.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“Try me.”
There was a hard glitter in his eye that said he wasn’t bluffing. “I want to get my cock out.”
“I know you do,” Cillian coaxed. “I’ll get it out soon, I promise. You just have to wait a while longer.”
“How long?” I sounded like a petulant child who’d been told he couldn’t have any more sweets, and I didn’t much care.
“Soon. Just keep rubbing.” That noise in his throat came again when I increased the pressure. “Not that hard. We wouldn’t want you coming in your underwear.”
I took a deep, shuddering breath in before letting it out again. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this aroused. In fact, I wasn’t sure I’d ever been this aroused before. “You’re killing me,” I admitted.
“I know.” There was amusement in Cillian’s voice. “At least you’re getting to touch yourself.”
I fought through the veil of arousal to look at Cillian properly. He lifted both of his hands in a demonstration that they were above the desk. “Are you hard?” I asked.
“As a rock.”
“Show me.”
He scooted back in his chair, his suit trousers doing nothing to hide the hard line of his cock as it pressed against the fabric. “Stroke it,” I ordered.
He ran featherlight fingertips along the length, the groan that escaped his lips only inflaming my ardor more. “Fuck,” I said.
“Yeah,” he agreed. He took his hands away again. “Remember, I’m not here. I’m on the floor in front of you. I’m pushing your thighs wider apart.” I obediently spread my thighs wider, Cillian making a sound of pleasure, which made a pleasant change from the sounds of warning he’d become so expert at. “You wore white underwear for me today. I heartily approve. Do you know why?”
“Why?”
“White doesn’t hide much. I can see the dark shadow of your hole. It’s making me remember how good it feels when it’s stretched around my cock and you’re taking me deep.”
My cock was a throb so pronounced that I fancied I could hear it, the sound as loud as a drum. Or maybe that was my heartbeat, my body one enormous mass of need and desire. My eyes had closed, my breathing ragged.