Page 60 of Vegas Heat

I stumble up to my room, trying to remember which one’s mine, and I set my hand on a doorknob before I remember that was the daughter’s room. I move to the next door, open it, and I’m elated to find I chose the right door.

I leap onto my bed and grab my phone.

She answers on the first ring. “Hey, Captain.”

“God, you sound sexy. You should come over right now.”

She giggles. “Are you drunk right now?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Ooh, this’ll be fun.” She giggles. “I’ve never had phone sex with a drunk Cooper before.”

“Areyoudrunk?” I demand.

“No. Mia had a boy over so I ducked out early and snuck back home even though my dad’s got some friends over. I snatched a seltzer from a big tub of alcohol and snuck up to my room, but I’m definitely not drunk.”

“Was it boat boy?” I ask, and she giggles.

“Itwasboat boy. I felt like a third wheel, so I bolted early. My dad’s old friends are still downstairs, so I put on my earbuds to drown them out and now I have you in stereo in my head.”

“That’s hot. But now you’re home, so my fantasies of you fingering yourself in the front of your truck will have to live on in my imagination.”

“Correct. But I’m open to doing it in person for you if it’s really a fantasy.” Her tone is sly and sexy and Jesus Christ, when did I get in so deep with her?

Oh, right. The moment I met her.

“You’d do that?”

“I’d do anything for you,” she breathes.

Her words speak directly to my cock once again.

“Where are you now?” I ask.

“My bed.”

“What are you wearing?”

“You want the truth or the fantasy?”

I laugh. “Whatever story you want to tell.”

“Black lingerie with a garter belt and straps holding up my thigh-highs. But I’m not wearing any panties under the garter belt.”

My cock strains painfully against my jeans as I close my eyes and picture it in my mind.

“What are you wearing?” she asks.

I glance down at my faded jeans and plain Under Armour shirt. “No shirt, just for you, and gray sweatpants you can definitely see the Captain through.”

“Oh, God,” she whimpers as she pictures it. I love that I do to her the same thing she does to me.

“Since you’re not wearing any panties, slide your finger through your pussy for me, baby,” I murmur.

She must do it, because I hear her soft moan over the line. “Reach into your gray sweatpants and play with your balls,” she demands, and she’s no longer tentative when she issues instructions over the phone.

Fuck, that’s hot.

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