Page 38 of Made For Ruin

“Marcus...” I whimper, my thighs pressing together.

“Uh uh. Spread your legs for me. Nice and wide.” He waits until he hears my sharp inhale, knowing I’ve obeyed. “That’s it. Now, touch yourself. Start with your tits. Squeeze them the way I would. Pinch those pretty nipples.”

I cup my breasts, imagining his large hands in place of my own. I pluck at my nipples until they’re stiff and aching. Little mewls escape my throat as I work myself higher.

“Like this?”

“Just like that. Fuck, I love those sexy noises you make. Let me hear how bad you need it.” His voice is pure gravel. “Trail your fingers lower, baby. Past your belly button. But don’t touch that greedy little clit yet.”

I do as he says, my hips arching off the bed seeking more. “Please...”

“Please what? Use your words.”

“Please let me touch myself. I’m so wet.”

I’ve never been this bold, but something about him brings it out of me.

“Do it. Slide your fingers through that slick, needy pussy. Tell me how it feels.”

I nearly sob in relief as my fingertips glide through the wetness.

“It’s so warm and soft. I’m dripping for you.”

“That’s right, you’re dripping for me. Because that pussy is mine.” His words are fierce with possession. “Rub that swollen clit, baby. Work yourself till you’re desperate.”

My hips jerk as I follow his instructions, pleasure sparking up my spine with every light touch. It’s torturous, denying myself the pressure I crave. But obeying him, submitting to his control even from miles away, only makes me wetter.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises darkly. “Now slip two fingers inside that tight cunt. Feel how hot and slick you are.”

“Oh, yes.” I sink into myself with a low moan, my inner muscles clenching greedily. “You feel so much better...”

“I know, sweetheart. Soon. For now, fuck yourself on those pretty fingers. Imagine it’s my cock stretching you open, taking what’s mine.”

Obscene wet sounds fill the room as I work myself faster, grinding against my palm. The coil in my core winds tighter with every word he growls in my ear.

“Marcus, I’m close.”

“Come for me.” His command is guttural, laced with his own barely restrained desire. “Give me what’s mine.”

With a gasp of his name, I shatter. Pleasure bursts through my veins as I ride out the intense waves, my body bowing off the bed. Marcus’s low groan echoes through the phone, spurring my release higher.

“That’s it, baby. Milk those fingers.” His voice is raw, almost pained. “Wish I could feel you coming around my cock right now. Squeezing me so fucking tight.”

I whimper as the aftershocks roll through me, leaving me boneless against the sheets. My hand slows, drawing out every last spark until I’m too sensitive. With shaky movements, I pull my fingers free, marveling at the evidence of my pleasure coating them.

I ache to have him here with me. To feel his weight pressing me into the mattress, his arms caging me in.

“I wish you were here,” I whisper.

“Soon.” The promise in that single word makes me shiver. “For now, I need you to rest. You worked hard today.”

He means the diner, but the double meaning behind his words isn’t lost on me. A satisfied smile tugs at my lips as I reach for my discarded shirt, still buzzing from my climax.

“So did you.”

“I aim to please.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Now get some sleep, baby. I have plans for you soon, and you’ll need your energy.”

“I can’t wait.”

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