Page 74 of One Night in Glasgow
“Lift your skirt,” he commanded. “Touch yourself through your panties. Tell me how it feels.”
With shaking fingers, I complied, hiking my pencil skirt up around my hips and pressing my palm against my lace-covered center. “God, Sean,” I gasped quietly. “I’m so wet I can feel it through the fabric.”
His groan was guttural. “I can picture it. Smell it. Taste it.Those black panties clinging to your pussy, showing me exactly where you need me. I’d drop to my knees, spread your thighs, and press my mouth against you through the lace.”
My fingers circled my clit through the damp fabric, my head falling back against the wall. “What would you do next?” I whispered.
“I’d pull those panties to the side—I wouldn’t even take them off—and lick one long stroke through your folds. You always taste so fucking good, Beth.”
I slipped my fingers beneath the edge of my underwear, sliding through my wetness. “I’m touching myself now,” I told him. “Imagining it’s your tongue.”
“Fuck,” he hissed. “Are you alone in there?”
“Yes,” I assured him. “The bathroom’s empty.”
“Good. Because I want you to make yourself come while I tell you exactly what I’d do to you if I was there.”
I circled my clit with slick fingers, my breath coming faster. “Tell me.”
“I’d suck your clit while I push two fingers inside you, curling them to find that spot that makes you scream. I’d fuck you with my fingers while my tongue works your clit until your thighs are shaking.”
I slid two fingers inside myself, curling them just as he described, my thumb working my clit. A small moan escaped me.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice strained. “Are you fucking yourself with your fingers, baby? Imagining they’re mine?”
“Yes,” I gasped. “God, Sean, I wish you were here.”
“So do I,” he growled. “I’m hard as steel right now, stroking myself while I think about you touching that pretty pussy.”
The image of Sean, cock in hand while he talked to me, sent a fresh wave of arousal through me. “Are you really?” I asked.
“Yes,” he admitted. “I locked my office door the moment you called. I’ve been stroking myself since you mentioned that black bra.”
“Tell me,” I demanded, my fingers moving faster. “Tell me what you’re doing.”
“I’ve got my cock in my hand, thinking about how tight and wet you feel when I’m inside you. Thinking about how you taste, how you sound when you come. I’m imagining bending you over that bathroom sink, hiking up your skirt, and fucking you from behind while you watch in the mirror.”
“Yes,” I moaned softly, adding a third finger, stretching myself as I imagined his thick length replacing my fingers. “I want that. I want you to fuck me hard.”
“I would,” he promised. “I’d grip your hips so tight I’d leave marks. I’d pound into you until you’re gasping my name, until everyone in that fucking building knows who you belong to.”
My orgasm was building rapidly, heat coiling tight in my belly. “Sean, I’m close,” I warned.
“Wait,” he commanded. “Not yet. I want us to come together.”
I whimpered but slowed my movements, keeping myself on the edge. “Hurry,” I pleaded.
“I’m close too,” he assured me. “Thinking about you fingering yourself in a bathroom stall, trying not to make noise... God, Beth, you drive me fucking crazy.”
“Please,” I begged, my thighs trembling with the effort of holding back.
“I want you to imagine me behind you,” he said, his voice tight with restraint. “My chest pressed against your back, mycock buried deep inside you. One hand on your breast, the other between your legs, rubbing your clit as I fuck you.”
My fingers moved in time with his words, my body tensing as I fought to hold back my release.
“Now,” he growled. “Come for me now, Beth. Let me hear you.”
I pressed my face into my shoulder to muffle my cry as I came, my inner walls clenching around my fingers in rhythmic pulses. Through the phone, I heard Sean’s ragged breathing and a muffled groan as he found his own release.
