Page 35 of Crave Me

My phone rang again and I picked it up, answering before I could hesitate.

He’d told me he’d call me today to see how I was feeling and made me promise I’d answer.

“Good morning,” I said. “How are you?”

Simon’s chuckle was deep and warm in my ear. “I believe that was the question I had for you.”

I shifted in my chair, aching beautifully from the reminder of his hand on me. “Sore,” I admitted. “Every time I move on my chair or walk today I think of you.”

“In a good way or bad way?” Concern thickened his voice.

“The best way.”

“Good. I want a photo.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Chloe. I want you to lift whatever sexy skirt I imagine you’re wearing today, pull down your panties, and send me a photo of your ass. I want to see my marks on you.”

“Oh God,” I whispered, my throat going dry. “Are you at home?”

“No, I’m in my office in the locker room waiting for a practice to start, and I’m not getting a damn thing done because I keep thinking of you and your ass and the way you scream when you come.” He grunted.

My mind ran away from me. “Are you—are you hard right now?”

“Yes,” he growled. “Hard as a rock and if you can’t obey, I’ll have to figure out how to punish you, which will only make me harder. I’ve got practice in ten minutes and can’t have a hard-on when I hit the ice, so I’m asking you to obey, Chloe.”

I pushed out of my chair before I could think about it. I turned over my desk, flipping my blonde hair so it fell down my back and lifted my skirt. Then, in order to tease him, I pushed my lace thong panties down just beneath my ass. They tightened around the curve of it, plumping my small cheeks, but he’d like the hint of red lace.

“Hold on,” I whispered. My hand shook as I held my phone behind me, twisting in order to get a shot of myself splayed out over my desk, my hair visible, my ass on display for him.

I took the photo, smiled when it wasn’t too blurry, and texted it to him.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. I’d just readjusted myself and taken a seat in my chair when he groaned. “That’s the sexiest thing I’ve seen all day. Better than the vision I had in my head.”

My pulse fluttered with approval. My hand went beneath my skirt, teasing my wet flesh.

“Simon,” I whispered, tracing the seam of my thong with my fingers. “I’m wet.”

His voice went sharp as a sword. “No one touches you but me, do you understand?”

My fingers stilled. “But?”

“No buts. You’ll come when I tell you, that’s what we agreed to.”

“And if I don’t obey?” I took my hand out of my skirt, but damn I wanted to hear his threat.

“Every orgasm you give yourself is one I will deny you, while I orgasm repeatedly, and you’re forced to the edge, denied, watching me take my own pleasure from you. Is this a risk you want to take?”

I imagined him jacking off in front of me, his cum splashing over my lips, my breasts, my pussy, all while I writhed beneath him.

The vision turned me on and left me squirming in my chair. But it was the sound of disappointment in his voice I clung to.

“No, it’s not a risk I want to take.”

“Good.” I could practically see his grin from his tone. “Then take care. I’ll be in touch soon.”

He hung up before I could respond. I stared at the screen for several moments, hoping for a text and directions, but nothing came.

Fool. He’d turned me into a fool for him in less than twenty-four hours.

How in the hell was I going to survive three more weeks?

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