Page 88 of The Parent Trap

“I think about you, too,” I whisper, face burning but voice confident, bold. “I touch myself. I think about you, and I make myself come.” A fraught silence. “And Thai?”

“Yeah, babe.”

Babe? From Thai.

I don’t hate it.

“The orgasms arewaybetter. Even just thinking about you and touching myself, the orgasms are so much better than I ever imagined they could be.” Say it, I order myself. Be bold. “And when it’s really you? Whenyoutouch me? When it’s…your mouth? Your fingers? It’s like dying and going to heaven.”

“Do it,” he commands. “Right now.”

“What?” I sound slightly frantic.

“Touch yourself.”

“Thai…”

“Touch yourself. Make yourself come.”

I groan. I’ve never done anything so daring. Never obeyed when a man gave me a command. “I’m still wearing my skirt and underwear.”

“Take ’em off. Just the panties. Take ’em off, right now.”

“Okay,” I whisper. “Hold on.”

I set the phone aside, on the table beside my rocking chair—after a moment of considering, I put it on speaker. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m on my porch. Sitting on my rocking chair. It’s almost totally dark, except the light from the window behind me. You’re on speakerphone. Obviously, I’m alone.”

“Keep talking. I love hearing your voice, Dee. Keep telling me what you’re doing.”

“You too,” I say, sounding hesitant.

“Me too, what?”

I embolden my voice. “You do it too. Touch yourself. Right where you are.”

He laughs, a low growl. “Okay. I’m putting you on speaker.”

“There’s no one around you?”

“Nope, not that I know of. Don’t really care if there is, though. This is fucking hot.”

I laugh, and swallow hard. “I’m…uh…I’m going to take off my underwear.”

“I didn’t actually see them, earlier. What do they look like?”

“It’s, um, a thong. Yellow, and ahh, really kind of small. Barely there. My skirt is tight, so I had to wear a thong, because there’s no way I was going commando under a skirt this short.”

“Try it, next time. Wear it when I take you on a date, and don’t wear anything under it. And don’t tell me.”

“Don’t tell you?”

“Nope. I’ll find out for myself.”

I huff in arousal. Suit action to words, reaching up under my skirt and wiggling my thong off. Set it on the table near my phone. “My thong is off.”