Page 1 of Devious Whims

Cami

“W-A-T-C-H. Watch. Thirty-two points,” Mike says proudly. After placing the last tile, he grabs the notepad and scribbles his score.

I smile at his genuine excitement. “That was a good one.”

I’m not the biggest fan of Scrabble, mainly because I suck at spelling. But it’s my husband’s favorite, so every Friday we have a board game date.

My phone buzzes next to me, and a glance at the screen steals my breath. The unsaved number taunts me because I have it memorized, and I know exactly who it is. I grab it and stand on shaky legs.

“I gotta take this,” I tell Mike as I hurry up the stairs to the guest room.

“This is a collect call from Cluck’s County Correctional from Inmate…”

I let the usual spiel play as I lock the bedroom door and enter the walk-in closet while accepting the call.

When it’s finally silent, I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

His throaty laugh sends shivers down my spine. “Hmm. I’ve missed your voice.”

My heart twists at his words. There’s a selfish part of me that has missed him too. It’s been a few months since he’s called. It isn’t unusual for long stretches of time to pass without a call, but this has been the longest.

“Are you alone?” he asks.

I lick my dry lips. “Yes.”

“Of course you are. Because you’re desperate for it, aren’t you?”

Humiliation burns through me, sending arousal straight between my legs. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself I shouldn’t respond like this. I can’t stop myself.

“It’s been a long time,” I whisper, my fingers aching with how hard I’m gripping the phone.

His deep laugh rumbles, sending shivers down my spine and goosebumps across my skin. “And you’ve been saving it for me, haven’t you?”

Shame burns my cheeks, and I don’t want to admit the truth, but I do. I always do for him. “Yes.”

“Such a good girl. Spread your legs and get wet enough that I can hear it,” he commands.

My blood rushes in my ears, the steady beat making me light-headed as I lean against the wall and lift my foot onto the stool next to me. The thin, light-blue summer dress falls down my thigh and gathers at my hip as I slide my fingers between my legs.

“Touching yourself?”

“Yes,” I breathe out as I gather the wetness from my hole and drag it to my clit, rubbing in slow circles.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

I close my eyes, imagining the Devon I knew from my youth. His midnight black hair hung in limp curls over his forehead and sometimes shielded his jade-green eyes. He would swipe it to the side before falling to his knees, pushing my legs apart and making unwavering eye contact as he ate me out.

“You. Always you,” I tell him.

Devon hums in approval. I pick up the pace strumming myself, my legs starting to quiver as my body pulls tight at the tension of an impending orgasm. “Which one is it this time? My tongue or my cock?”

I let out a soft moan. “Tongue.”

“Yeah, you like that one. The thought of me tasting your sloppy pussy gets you off?”

Nodding, I swallow the words as I push a finger inside myself and pump it quickly. The sloshy noises as my juices spill around my hand make me pant.

“You ready?” Devon says, the impatience in his tone makes a trickle of nerves build in my stomach and reminds me to answer him out loud.

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