Page 123 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
My stomach spasms again, and it forces me to peel my fingers away from my dick.
That sick feeling is back and stronger than ever.
I sit up on the bed, leaving the towel behind.
A quick glance at my phone shows me the longest voice note in history, or so it feels like.
Curiosity has me clicking it.
Dollancie: “Before marriage, because it would have been that little bit naughtier back then, assuming we’re staying in the past, Jane would have given him more than a reconciling kiss. And as that kiss ended, she’d have stepped out of her panties and lowered her dress from her shoulders. Spreading her legs a little, she’d glide her hands over her body and watch as his eyes followed her every move. God, he’d want to grab her right then and there. More than ever, as her hands slipped between her legs, opening herself up and glistening for his view.
She’d get a little closer, grabbing his cock with one hand, pushing him with the other toward the bed.
If I were Jane and you were Mr. Rochester, I’d expect you to switch our positions and tell me to lie back. Maybe even order it. And I’d do it to please you.”
God, we’re role-playing now. At what point did I become Mr. fucking Rochester?
“I’d lie down in the middle of the bed, and you’d lie over me, your right thigh pressing into my center. I wouldn’t be able to resist moving, grinding against you. The feel of my heat would drive you wild. And enjoying your reaction to me, I’d stroke you slowly. I’d look up at you as I stick out my tongue and lick your lips, devastated by the fact that you don’t taste like me yet. I’d need for you to taste like me. I’d need your tongue between my legs, dragging slowly over each sensitive part of me.”
Something takes over me, and it isn’t just arousal. There’s fear, too, and it’s making me tremble. The mute button tempts me, but if I press it, I’ll no longer hear her voice.
The idea of that is painful, so I drop my head back and listen, keeping my hand on my cock and forcing myself to do this. To enjoy this.
“When you’re done, we’d switch places, and my tongue would wrap around your tip and slide down your length. Sucking and swirling my tongue in a way I know you’ll like, taking all of your cock into my mouth.”
I moan, partly through agony, partly through pleasure, at the edge of the bed. A tingling feeling starts in my stomach.
I need to stop this, but I can’t. I can’t stop listening to her sex-crazed, alcohol-hazed voice.
I just need to hear her.
“I wouldn’t let you come, though, Mr. Rochester. Not yet. But you’d be close. And it would become almost unbearable as I move my body over yours and let your cock, still hard and coated in my saliva, drift closer to my pussy as I lower my mouth to yours, kissing you hard and shoving your taste back in your mouth, grinding my pussy along your big cock, my wetness making us slick as I slide along your length.”
God, I can almost feel her on me. The words are so intense as I touch myself that they paint a very vivid picture in my head.
My heart races as she continues, and a tear falls as my climax nears.
“I’d break the kiss, and you’d look in my eyes and beg, telling me how desperately you need to come. And I’d let you sink inside me, my hands on your chest as you guide me down, forcing me to take all of you, like the good girl who wants to please you that I am. I’d rock, but that wouldn’t be enough. Your hands would move to the back of my thighs, up over my ass, where you’d squeeze and pull me down against you. Hard andslow and deep. And I’d start pulsating around you because it would be too much. For me. You’d feel too much?—”
The message cuts off, but I need nothing else. I squeeze myself harder. The tingle intensifies, and my balls tighten, and I moan, coating my stomach in lashes of hot cum I moan again, and it almost sounds like her fucking name.
And because of that, when I barely have the energy to move, I force myself around on the bed, dragging the towel close to my face as this morning’s breakfast ejects from me in heaving waves.
Tears continue to fall. And I feel like screaming.
Fuck…
How can I do this? Want her so much, even though the thought makes me sick. When the idea of sex with anyone—never mind her, the person I should never want—makes me feel violently ill.
Collapsing my head back against my pillows, I relax, or I try to, pushing the balled-up towel away from me.
My phone buzzes again.
Dollancie: “Oops. It cut off. I guess the phone thought we were taking it too far.” Then she laughs, and it does something inside me that makes me think her phone and my broken mind were wrong.
So wrong…
CHAPTER 29
