Page 14 of King of Malice
I draw in a little gasp, the throb deep between my legs pulsing with need. “Are we standing?”
“Do you want to be?”
“Yes,” I answer quickly, ready to keep going. More than willing to play this little game. Phone sex had never occurred to me, but now that I’m here, it sounds like the best idea I’ve ever heard. Like this, I’m free to enjoy his gorgeous voice, the image of him touching me, and it’s better than any fantasy I’ve ever imagined.
“Why?”
My mouth twitches as I frown. “I get frightened when a man is on top of me.”
“We’re standing,” he answers in this rough, masculine voice that brokers no argument and puts me right back in the fantasy.
My hand slides under the elastic waist of my shorts. “Is one of my legs wrapped around your waist?”
“Definitely. One long, shapely leg is around my waist so I’m pushing right against your sensitive clit, making you moan my name.”
I do, arching my back as my finger pushes against the sensitive bud. “Dimitri.”
“Lifting your shirt, I kiss down your neck and then take one of your nipples in my mouth.”
Both of them peak and I give a soft cry, I hold the phone between my shoulder and ear so that I can palm one of them myself. Even with my tank still on, my nipple responds, growing harder, tighter at his words and my touch.
“I’d flick my tongue over the tip…” I hear his clothes rustling and the idea that he’s going to touch himself too makes the throb intensify. “Tell me what your nipples look like.”
I blink. I love hearing him, but me talking…
Then again, I don’t want to stop. Taking a long drag of air, I try. “Umm, they are pink.”
“Pale or dark?”
“Pale,” I whisper.
“Mmh, yes, milaya, I bet they’re gorgeous.”
The rosy color of my cheeks is now flushing down my chest.
“How big?” He gives a small grunt. “The size of a quarter?”
“Bigger.”
“Yes,” he hisses. “Are you touching yourself?”
My fingers sink deeper into my folds. “Yes.”
“Good girl,” he rumbles, his honey voice, rougher, darker now, in a way that only makes me hotter.
I’m flicking a nipple with one hand, my middle finger flying over my clit, my breath coming out in short little gasps as I breathe into the phone.
“I’d kiss a path down your belly.” He’s breathing heavy too.
“Are you touching yourself too?” I ask, wishing that I could see him. Touch him. I don’t have to be afraid in this moment and with the fear gone, all the desire I’ve been denying rises up threatening to overwhelm me.
I want to see him. His body, his cock. I bet his big, masculine hand looks insanely good wrapped around it.
“Yes, my sweet treat. I’ve got my cock in my hand just picturing what you look like with your fingers buried deep in your pussy.”
It’s dirty enough and so hot, that those words tip me over, and suddenly, I cry out, an orgasm ripping through me. “Dimitri,” I cry, my voice raspy as I picture him here, between my legs, his thumb on my clit rather than my own finger.
“Milaya,” he pushes out between gritted teeth before he lets out a long groan. My hands clench into balled fists wishing that I could touch him. Slide my palms over his skin.
