Page 24 of Broken By It

Stupidly.

Bravely.

Ridiculously.

Whatever one can call it, I slide my finger across the screen and hithisnumber. Dillon “Karma” Jacoby is my kryptonite. It’s more than attraction. The man he is calls to me. He is strong, lives life by his own moral code, and believes in protecting his family. He can be rough but gentle at the same time. While it can cut deep, he’s always honest. I respect the man he is and the things he wants in life.

“Lo,” he answers on the second ring. His voice is raspy from sleep, and I feel my insides quiver.

“Dillon,” I whisper.

“Zizi, you okay, babe?” he livens up with his question.

“I’m okay.”

“You need something?”

I let out a laugh, “yeah.” Oh I need something, more like someone … him.

“What do you need?” he asks genuinely concerned.

I sigh, “I need you. I need you to come over here and have your way with me.”

“Maritza,” his voice is strained.

“Hush. I need you to come put your lips to mine. I’m gonna open for you and our tongues will dance together.”

“Baby,” he groans.

I let out a sigh. “You’re gonna cup my breasts, squeezing with your large hands. The callouses you have are going to heighten the way it feels against my soft flesh.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” is all he can respond before I keep going.

“Your hand is gonna roam south. You will find my pussy dripping wet for you, Dillon.”

“Where are you?”

I moan as I allow my free hand to run up and down my exposed skin only heightening my needs. “I am home in my bed.”

“Fuck,” he says as I hear the phone move from him shifting.

“You should know I’m naked.”

“Baby, what are you doin’?”

I hum as my desire climbs. “I am telling you, my fantasy. I’m gonna touch myself and come thinking of you. It happens often. But having your voice right here,” I slide my fingers between the lips of my pussy feeling my slickness as I begin to work myself. “It’s gonna be the best yet.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Possibly,” I half laugh, half moan as my pleasure is climbing.

I circle the edge of my opening teasing myself before letting my finger slide inside. “Can’t have you.” I pant. “Want you, God do I want you, Dillon Jacoby.”

I hear him growl, “don’t do this shit Maritza. Do not say my name while you are heady with want.”

“What are you gonna do about it, big boy?”

He gives me a sarcastic laugh, “Fuck around and find out, baby. You do this shit when I have my son and can’t come to you, but you best believe Maritza, this little fantasy you got goin’ on … this shit isn’t fair.”

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