Page 13 of Devotion

“Touch yourself,” he whispers. “I want you to push your fingers inside your pussy. Can you do that for me?”

Out of my mind, I nod, and he plays into my ego again. “Good girl.”

I ease my hand inside my panties when he moves the vibrator.

“That’s it, Layla. As deep as you can,” he beckons, and I’m panting at the sound and depth of his voice, stretching my shoulder in unnatural ways to reach further between my legs.

The sound of my wetness draws a groan from him, and I find it strange how badly I want to please him, want to be hisgood girlone more time.

“Now, let me taste you,” he croons. “Feed me your fingers.”

With very little coercion, I slide my fingers out of my slit, stroking my clit with my arousal-coated fingers as I free them from my panties, and then immediately push them into his mouth. My eyes roll back as he savors the rawness of me from my fingertips, his tongue swirling them, sucking them clean.

“Shit, you’re so fucking sweet,” he whispers, going in for one last taste.

I gasp when he places the vibrator on my clit again, and with him so deep inside my head now, I come in no time at all.

A moan tears its way up my throat as my teeth sink into my aching lip, feeling the unspent tension and frustration drain from my body. The sting of neglect is gone, replaced only with a powerful sense of what the phantom promised.

Satisfaction.

I’m already teetering on sleep, lazily turning onto my side as the cover is pulled over me again. The faintest kiss presses to my temple, and then the illusion ends with the whisper of one final command that fades in from the depths of my imagination.

“Sleep.”

6

Layla

I’ve had this strange sense of existing in two realities all day, a side effect of what I’ve now equated to one hell of an elaborate fever dream.

Last night was… strange. And it only feltstrangerwhen I awakened this morning to find my vibrator out of the drawer, perched on my nightstand, pointed right toward the sky.

Had I really been so out of it, sodesperate,that I dragged an entire man out of my imagination to do what Martinez couldn’t?

The answer to this question is clearly yes, but as I round the corner, and the upscale restaurant Dove chose for today’s meet-up comes into view, I put these thoughts aside. After all, I went to so much trouble to look the part of “normal”—threw on makeup, slipped into real clothes—I owe it to myself to try and have a good time.

Soft chatter replaces the sounds of the busy street when I step inside, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. Isha waves me down from across the room, and I force a smile, bypassing the hostess to make my way over to the table the girls have selected.

“Yay! She made it!” Eliza announces, the first on her feet to squeeze me in a tight hug. Dove and Isha follow, and it’s honestly good to see them. I don’t often get out of the house for non-work-related events, so this is nice.

“Oh, my God! Your hair looks great!” Eliza grabs the end of the side-swept fishtail braid I toiled over for nearly an hour, so I’m glad to know it paid off.

“Thanks! Just trying to keep up with the three of you.”

“Please, you’re such a natural beauty it sickens me,” Isha teases, waving me off. “Do you have a clue how much I’d pay to get lips like yours? Hell, do you know how much I’d pay to have your tits and ass, too? Six figures. Easy.”

I feel my face warming with the compliment.

“Ok, Isha, stop fangirling. You’re making the poor girl blush. Look how red she is,” Dove says, fanning me with her menu.

“Oh, whatever.” Isha brushes the others off with a wave. “Layla knows she’d be my hall pass if I was into girls. My husband knows it, too.”

“So you’ve told us,” Eliza chimes in. “At least a dozen times, actually.”

There’s a pause in conversation when we all take a peek at our menus, but then Dove breaks the silence again with a question.

“How’s work?”

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