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Her voice is a pout. “You like me to show off my assets in front of your friends.”
The depravity behind that statement is like a slow stroke to my already tortured cock. I can feel the pre cum building deep inside. “Do I guide myself inside?”
“After you suit up,” she snips.
“Of course.” I pause to give more credence to this wicked call. “Your pussy weeping for me. . . Filia?”
“I want you so badly.”
I grunt. “Good enough. Take me.”
She moans as I tell her I’m slamming into her. “Arch your back, baby.”
“I am. God, you’re going so deep. I feel you almost to my womb.”
With an added rasp to my voice, I snarl, “These panties offend me. I’m ripping them off.”
“I’m yours to do with what you will.”
Damn straight. You have been since the first night we were together. “I’m taking you hard,” I warn her.
“Do it. Take me.” Then after her rapturous breathing comes through the line. “Oh, no!”
I pause, as if there’s an actual sexual act occurring. “What?”
“I just ruined the cake. You kept shoving me forward and my hand slapped into it.”
Shaken, I desperately search for the time. I have mere minutes before I can end this call. “Give me your fingers.”
“What are you doing with them?” she asks, genuinely curious.
“I’m sucking them into my mouth. I’m licking each and every drop of icing from them.”
“Every time you do, my pussy is clenching tighter around you,” she moans.
Just like I thought it would. The insidious thought pops into my head. Unable to shake how she’s ruined this for us, I grunt and let myself enjoy her.
One last time.
“I’m going to fuck you hard for this, Fa—” I start when I’m reprieved by the automated voice telling me I’m out of time. I’m so damn grateful I pay in advance because I was about to blow everything by saying her name.
With that, I disconnect the line and immediately hurl my glass against the wall, my anger a palpable force.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
KENSINGTON, TEXAS
Is truth really self-evident?
—@PRyanPOfficial
Dude, we need to get you off this kick. You were funnier when you were depressed.
—Viego Martinez, Celebrity Blogger
Filia is Fallon. After wiping my brow and absorbing the blow, I can’t do much but sit in shock. The absence of noise almost makes the buzzing in my mind as loud as a sonic boom.
My eye gravitates just beyond my spread legs, where a secure coded laptop and new glass of whiskey sit on my coffee table after I delt with the mess of the first one I destroyed. When I first poured it, there was an ice cube in it. It melted while I was trying to give the team precious time to upload the final code to persistently hack into their database. It ended with my future blowing my heart up in my chest.