Page 50 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

I freeze, my mind racing trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with her. Sweat beads across my forehead. My palm is slick, my fingers curled tight around the throbbing weight in my hand.

What the fuck?

“He’s watching me fuck myself.”

A sharp exhale bursts from my lips.

I smile.

She’s fucking with me.

My dick twitches in my hand, desperate for release, aching from the game she’s playing. Fuck, she’s got me by the throat, and she ain’t letting go.

“I know his name, yes,” she says, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “It’s Ace Jackson Taylor.”

She moans as she says it.

I shudder, then I stroke, while somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder when I told her my middle name.

Her lashes flutter as she spreads her legs wider, her smooth brown thighs glistening under the flickering candlelight.

“What does he look like? Mmm, he’s so fine, Officer. Tall. Handsome face. Muscles. Dick like a horse.” Her hips jerk slightly. “Oh my God, just thinking about him is making my pussy wet.”

I groan, biting my tongue to keep from losing my shit.

I shouldn’t love this as much as I do.

Every fucking second of it.

I stroke myself in time with her movements, my breaths coming faster, harsher. My fingers tighten around the thick shaft, my thumb dragging over the sensitive tip, smearing the wetness there. Every stroke is agony and ecstasy all at once.

“Yes, that’s what I said. Dick like a horse.”

Her lips curve into a wicked smirk, and she cracks her eyes open just enough to stare at the opening in the blinds. Enough to make me believe she’s meeting my gaze.

The direct hit of her attention sends fire through my veins.

I bite the inside of my cheek, stifling a groan as I watch her grind against the vibrator. The way her pussy leaks, the way her stomach quivers, the way her hips jerk with every slow, torturous circle—it’s the filthiest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I pump faster, my body tensing with the build-up, my knees almost buckling from the pleasure.

She drags it up and down her folds before circling back to her clit. Her chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, her body trembling as she pushes herself closer and closer to the edge.

I’m right there with you, baby.

“Yes, Officer. My pussy is so fucking wet…oh, God, I’m cumming…”

My eyes roll back. My whole fucking body’s on fire, my strokes speeding up to a desperate, punishing pace. Each one sends a sharp bolt of pleasure up my spine. The pressure builds, coils, and threatens to snap at any second.

She throws her head back as her lips part around a high-pitched moan. Her face collapses, her thighs tense, her back arches, and her stomach flexes as the first waves of release hit her. The sight alone pushes me over the edge. My body seizes as I spill into my hand, the pleasure so sharp and intense, I almost collapse against the wall.

I stand there panting into the night. My hand is a sticky mess, my jeans are embarrassingly low on my ass, and post-nut clarity is hitting me like a freight train, but I really don’t care. All I can do is watch her as she comes down. Her eyes open slightly, and she’s looking in my direction again as a slow, satisfied smile curls her lips.

She knows what she did.

I stagger back, still drunk on her. My legs are weak as I make my way back to my car, each step a mixture of victory and defeat. I got to experience…that, but at the same time, I’m at her mercy.

And the worst part?

I’d do it again.

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