Page 156 of Staying Selfless

“My door is locked.”

“Well, that’s a first,” he laughs. “Turn your lights off and get in your bed.”

“Okay?”

“And leave my shirt on.”

“Bossy, are we?”

I do as he says, flipping my light switch off before crawling into the bed, my body bare and exposed except for his white collared shirt.

“You’re right. We should practice,” Eli adds. His tone is husky and hoarse, and I know that tone. He’s turned on right now. “We should practice having phone sex.”

He can’t see me, but my brows shoot up at his words as blood rushes to my cheeks. It also rushes to the spot between my legs. He and I don’t typically talk dirty to one another. It’s not really needed. We are so into each other that the filthy words aren’t necessary to get us off. But that’s precisely what phone sex is, so this is going to be different.

And even though different can be scary, which is exactly how I feel right now, it can also be fun.

“Are you in your bed?”

“Yes. And I wish you were here with me,” I admit.

“Oh yeah? What would I be doing if I were there?”

“You’d be kissing me.

“Where?”

“My lips,” my fingers graze my lower one. “My neck,” I add as my hand trails down the length of it.

“Where else?” Eli coaxes.

“My chest.” My fingers skim my taut nipples, causing me to squeeze my thighs together from the sensation.

Eli lets out a heavy breath, my somewhat innocent words heating him. “Do you want to know how I’d be kissing you right now?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I’d bite and suck on that pouty lower lip of yours before working my way down your pretty neck. Then I’d wrap my lips around your nipple and tug on it with my teeth,” he says, skipping that slow warm-up altogether.

Nonetheless, his dirty words cause me to gasp with pleasure into the line.

“Then I want to swirl my hot tongue around them until they’re so sensitive that you’ll come just from my touch.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I whimper, unable to use actual words, my neck and chest heating up.

“Touch yourself, Logan.”

My fingers inch down the base of my abdomen, grazing my warm skin, dropping lower and lower, until wetness coats my hand, my swollen nerves begging for friction.

“I am,” I moan into the speaker as I circle my clit, pretending my man is the one touching me instead.

My admission pulls a groan deep from Eli’s throat.

“You touch yourself,” I tell him as I close my eyes and listen to his voice filling my ears with moans and pants.

“I’ve been touching myself since you sent me that picture, baby.”

Jesus. The image of Eli stroking his dick as he lies on his bed tingles every inch of my body. I want to touch him. All of him. His chiseled and lean waist, his perfectly sculpted arms. That V that dips down to his dick. His fucking flawless dick. I want to touch it all.

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