Page 8 of Starry Night Kisses

A strangled moan leaves my lips, and I do what he says with no hesitation.

How many fingers did you put inside yourself, baby? One? Two? By the time I get back, you’ll need to work up to at least three to fit me inside you.

“So cocky,” I murmur, even though the image of his cock being that big rips a new flood of arousal from me, and I easily slip a third finger inside myself.

And before you go thinking I’m being cocky, this is what you have to look forward to.

A photo comes in, and it’s clear that Eric went to the restaurant bathroom so we can have this conversation. In the photo, he’s fisting the base of his dick. It’s long and thick, the crown flushed and glistening with precum. My mouth waters at the thought of it sliding down my throat inch by inch until I’m gagging around him—and there’s no doubt I’ll choke on it. He definitely wasn’t being cocky—just truthful.

The thought makes me thrust against my fingers harder and faster. I pinch my clit, rubbing it between my index finger and thumb as he keeps going.

I can’t wait to fill you and feel that pussy strangle my cock. Fuck, I should have had you film yourself so I can see you getting off to the thought of that.

Are you almost there? I can just imagine you writhing beneath me as I lick my way between the valley of your breasts, sucking each of those perfect tits into my mouth as I fuck you slowly.

And yes, it will be slow.

Tortuous.

Agonizing.

Your pussy will be so well-acquainted with my tongue, my fingers, my cock, and whatever else I deem necessary to bring you to the edge over and over again before I finally make you see stars.

An unintelligible sound leaves my lips as I come around my fingers, pinching my clit so hard I can feel it pulsate with every convulsion.

As I come down from my high, I collapse into my pillows, picking up my phone with a ridiculously giddy smile.

I saw stars alright.

Is that too casual for what he just did for me? Should I reciprocate now that my hands are free?

What part of me are you thinking about right now?

Feeling fearless, I tug my shorts down and prop my legs up, snapping a photo of my cum smeared on my inner thighs. From the way I’m positioned, Eric will be able to see the barest hint of where my mound dips and parts around my sex.

Are you thinking about fucking me here?

Next, I yank down one side of my bralette until a rosy pink nipple pops out. I snap a photo of me palming my breast, pinching the swollen bud with the fingers that are covered with the evidence of my climax.

Or how about here?

Moments later, Eric’s name pops up as an incoming call, and shock spears my chest, gripping my esophagus in its icy fingers. A shred of doubt creeps in, but I swipe to answer and bring the phone to my ear.

“Evelyn Montgomery.” His voice is low and husky as he grumbles my name. “You are fucking incredible. Do you know that?” I can tell that his breathing is heavy, like he’s experiencing the same post-orgasm bliss that I am.

My mouth can’t seem to form words, so I just breathe out a hum of content. I shiver with excitement, curling onto my side as he says, “If we keepthis up, by the end of the week, I’m going to be begging you to keep me.”

I already want to keep you.

The thought spirals an icicle of grief through my warm and fuzzy feelings, poking holes as it goes, deflating all my feel-good energy. Unbidden tears line my eyes, and I fight to keep Eric from hearing the sadness that suddenly takes over me. “You should get back to your dinner. Goodnight, Eric.”

His reply sounds a little more earnest than just a second ago. “Goodnight, Evelyn.”

evie

Swipe.

Swipe.

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