Page 49 of The Games We Play

I don’t like the way she says that. Like she’s tired of it all. And she can’t be. Not yet. Not when I’m hours away from her. So I change the topic. “I’m in my friend Whip’s room.” And I tell her about the ride and how I envy him for the life he’s created. I tell her how he told me I had to clean up any mess.

By the time I’m done, she’s smiling again, and that heaviness that clouded her when I first called is gone.

“If you thought we were going to have phone sex, you’ll be disappointed. I doubt I’d even know where to start.”

I grin. “I could give you prompts.”

She laughs. “I really doubt that would help. I suck at dirty talk.”

Just the way she saysdirty talkmakes me hard. “You’re underestimating yourself, little chick. I don’t like it when you do that. You could recite the fucking alphabet and watching your lips move would give me a boner.”

She winces. “Are you always so blunt?”

“Why dance around when it comes to sex? I’d rather be honest.”

“So this call, you watching my lips, has it ... ?”

“Has it what, little chick? You know, as a teacher, I would have expected you to talk in full sentences.”

She rolls her eyes. “Has it ... you know ... ?” She gestures with her hand, up and down.

I can’t help but laugh. “Is that your best imitation of my dick hard?”

Pink tints her cheeks. “Stop being an asshole. You know what I mean.”

“If you’re asking if watching your lips during this call made my dick hard, then yes, Iris. So has this conversation about the logistics of dirty talk, without us actually talking dirty.” I drop the camera down to my jeans and rub one hand over my length.

When I flip the camera back to my face, she’s biting down on her goddamn lip.

“Huh,” she says.

“Huh? That’s all you’ve got?”

She shrugs again. “It’s nice to know I can do that to you.”

“Want to find out what else you can do? Tell me your favorite sexual position. And use your words, Iris.”

Her mouth opens, her eyes wide. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re there and I’m here, and we ...”

I wait for a moment before I speak, needy for more. “Full sentences. And we what?”

There’s a pause. “Urgh. Fine. Why would I tell you I like it missionary—with the guy sort of high up on me so it hits my clit—when you are too far away to do anything about it?”

And if a million different emotions don’t hit me at once ... I’m the one she wants if she gets turned on. She told me her favorite sexual position. She used her words. She did as I asked. I’m getting a dominant high just from getting her to verbalize her needs without even taking care of them for her.

“Because I want to know how you want it. Because we’re capable of getting off on our own while talking about this shit. Are you turned on?”

She blushes again. “If I say yes, can it just stop there? I don’t think I’m comfortable enough to do more yet.”

“Little chick. I get I’m a lot. You tell me you’re done, and we stop. But I’m gonna push you if I think it’s some bullshit expectations or good girl syndrome. Let’s make a boundary. Use the wordrain—reminds me of the day I met you and your yellow raincoat—if you’ve really hit your limit, and I’ll stop.”

“Like a safe word?”

I grin. “You know about safe words?”