Page 31 of Bedroom Therapy

“Peach. That sounds so pretty. Are they very sensitive?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“Tell me what feels good.”

“Please, Zachary, I can’t.”

“Of course you can. Don’t you advise your readers to communicate with their partners?”

“Yes.”

“What would you like me to do to those pretty peach nipples? Circle each of them with one finger? Would that make them harder? Tighter? Needier?”

She answered with a little moan.

“Now that they’re harder, do you want me to take them between my thumbs and fingers? Pull on them? Squeeze? How hard should I squeeze?”

“Some . . .” she managed to say.

“Do it for me.”

She couldn’t help herself now. Laying the phone beside her head on the pillow, she used both hands to play with her nipples, touching them lightly, then harder, her breath coming faster as her arousal built.

“Oh yeah, sweetheart. Oh yeah, that’s good, so good.”

“Zachary, I need . . .” She broke off, embarrassed.

“It’s all right to tell me. We’re communicating with each other. Do you want to come? Do you need to come?”

“Yes,” the syllable hissed out of her.

“Kick off your shorts and panties for me. Do that for me.”

Arousal had taken over her body and her mind. She was too desperate now not to do as he asked.

“Touch yourself for me. Down there, between your legs. You’re hot and wet, aren’t you? Stroke your finger through those sweet folds for me. If I were there, I’d find out what you like. Would you like me to dip my finger into your vagina? Just barely around the rim where you’re so very sensitive. Or deeper. Should I use one finger, or would two be better? How do you want me to do it?”

She couldn’t answer. His description of what he could do to her was making her breath come in jagged gasps, and she knew she was close to climax.

“Do it for me.”

Helpless to disobey, she reached down with her own hand, finding the hot, swollen core of herself, pressing and stroking.

“How do you like it? Long, slow strokes? From your vagina to your clit? Do that for me.”

Her breath came in little pants. But there was something she had to say. ”You too,” she gasped. “I can’t do this unless you do it . . . too.”

“Oh yeah, baby, I’m right here with you. All the way.”

She heard the truth of his words in the uneven sound of his voice, in the ragged breaths that came over the phone line.

She pictured him lying on the couch, his fly unzipped, his penis standing up red and hard as his hand moved up and down the shaft, propelling himself toward climax.

Her own fingers were busy, making her body vibrate like a tuning fork, the pleasure building to flash point.

“Amanda,” he gasped out, just as orgasm took her over the edge, and she moaned into the phone that was still lying beside her head.

She lay there for long seconds, breathing hard, little ripples of pleasure still tingling through her.

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