Page 70 of Burn for You

Me

You.

Rafael

Jesus Christ May.

My phone starts buzzing in my hand.

“Hello?”

“What are you doing saying shit like that?” I don’t even know how to answer that, but I don’t get a chance. “You can’t go from acting frosty as Iceland in winter to telling me you’re thinking about me. Make up your mind.”

Straight shooter, alright. The thing is that I can’t. I can’t make up my mind, not about him. “I can’t.”

“Make it simple. Tell me you enjoyed last night as much as I did, or am I some old fucking idiot who’s inanely fixated on you?”

The fact that he’s thinking about our age gap proves how much he’s been turning this over in his head, because it doesn’t even factor in for me.

“You know how I felt last night.”

“I thought I did,” he snaps back. “Until this morning. So I’m going to need you to spell it out for me.”

“I enjoyed it.” His sigh of relief is audible through the phoneline. “I can’t get it out of my head, can’t get you out of my head,” I admit.

His voice drops an octave. “What are you thinking about, exactly?”

My eyes flutter closed as I lay here in the dark, imagining he’s right here on top of me, his hard body hovering over mine. “I’m thinking about the way you filled my mouth with your fingers?—”

“Do it.”

“What?” My eyes snap open to the darkness of my room.

“Shove two of those dainty little fingers in your mouth, just like I did.”

I lie still for a moment, processing what’s going on here.

“May, I need you to do what I tell you,” he says, his voice low. “Make your fingers wet and touch yourself for me.”

My horny devil inside of me takes over and I do exactly what Rafael says. I slick my fingers and reach between my legs, letting out a breathy moan.

“That’s it, my girl.”

Another moan slips out of me at his words. I officially can’t concentrate when Rafael talks dirty. I have zero resolve when it comes to him, and I scold myself for it.

“Talk to me May, tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m touching myself,” I breathe.

He chuffs a laugh, but it sounds strangled. “I’m gonna need more than that, Whitley.” He grinds the words out.

“I’m touching my clit, teasing it.” I can barely get the words out.

“Slip a finger inside yourself.” I moan as I follow his instructions.

“Brava piccola.”

“Rafael?” I breathe.

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