Page 37 of Audiophile

“I’m fine for now.”

“Tell me when that changes. Are you touching your thighs?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” All hersirsare piling on top of each other, winding me up until I want to unleash myself on her. Or, at the very least, pull out my dick and stroke it to her, naked and waiting on the other side of this flimsy cotton.

“Fuck.” My quiet hiss slips out. Petra whimpers in response, and my heart speeds up faster than if I had a triple shot of espresso. All my words come out in a rush. “You like hearing how you affectme? You might wish your hands were mine,but so do I. Palm your pussy—only the outside. Feel how warm and soft you are.”

Petra makes a sound of protest. “Our foundation is honesty. Don’t blur this into a scene, Reed. That’s not what you chose.”

“I left DK at the door, Pet. There’s no one here but me.” Her sharp inhale has my world blurring out of focus. I glue my eyes to the cabinet across from me. If I let them shut, even a fraction, I’ll picture her in front of me. “Spread yourself open, feel the water against your clit.”

“What does that mean?” she asks. Water laps the sides of the tub with each roll of her hips.

It means you make sex safe again, and it’s the most delicious, heady thing I didn’t know I needed.I curl my hands into fists so they won’t reach for her. My cock is uncomfortable against my zipper, but I don’t trust myself to adjust it.

“If you let me, I would scoop you out of that bath and worship you. I’d tell you how gorgeous you are as I lick every inch of your skin. None of it would be a scene, just Reed and Petra. Use your other hand, baby, stroke yourself.”

“You’d change your mind if you saw me,” she mumbles, and it shatters me.

“You’re stunning. Is it some age thing? I’m thirty-one. I don’t want a teenager, I want a woman.” She’s back in her head, and I drag her out. “Feel how slick you are, even in the water. Tease your clit, Pet.”

“I’m older than you. I have stretch marks. I’m too soft.” Her shame is tangible, but she’s breathing heavily, headed toward the edge. I’m determined to guide her through.

“By what? A few years at most.” I scoff. “And I fucking love your curves. I have scars too. You think I’m not aching to touch you? Taste you? Rock your hips into it. Is softer or harder better for you? Do you come this way, or with your fingers inside?”

She doesn’t answer as the water laps and splashes against her. Envisioning it beading on her fleck-marked skin makes my mouth water. She gasps, and I reel her in.

“What’s your favorite part of those audios? When I slide my fingers into you? When I lick your sweet pussy? When I fuck you so hard that it rips the sounds right out of you?”

“All of it!” Her needy cry makes me ache. I grip my knees and let my eyes slip closed, craving her.

“Slide one finger inside, baby. You’re silky soft. Press your palm against your clit and grind down. Are you getting close for me?”

Her gasps are an easy answer. “Yes. You really don’t care?”

I slide my hand over my zipper, aching fiercely. “I couldn’t resist you, flushed and beautiful. Add another finger, Pet. Don’t stop. What do you picture when you get close?”

“Whatever you tell me to, sir.” Her response is instant. Reflexive.Habitual.

I’m on my knees before I know I’ve moved, my fist braced against the wall next to her head as I struggle for air. “Do you talk to me? When you listen to all those scenes, do you imagine silently, or do you talk back?”

She breathes heavily on the other side of the curtain, and I know,I know, the answer. It makes me shake, on the verge of something frantic.

“Say it, Petra.”

“I do.” She moans, and the low vibration of it rings through me.“Touch me, Reed. Please.”

“What?” I push away my imagination to refocus on Petra’s needs.

“Never mind.”

My heart pounds fast as I consider the options. I could ruin it all with one question—or I could open a door to an experience I’ll never forget. “Can I touch you? It’s your boundary, you get to choose.” She’s hazy through the curtain, head tilted back, and her sharp inhale sends heat flaring through me. I grip the wall to steady myself.

“Yes.” Her shadow nods. “Open it.”

She doesn’t need to tell me twice. I scrounge for some semblance of control. Though I don’t rip the curtain down to the floor, I yank it back faster than I should.

She’s beautiful, eyes closed, with the tight peak of her breast between her fingers. Her other hand is pressed between her legs, and—fuck—her lips are reddened with arousal, begging to be kissed.

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