Page 59 of Come Apart
"I'll tell you what I'm going to do to you when you get back here."
"And what is that?"
"Suck you off," she says.
Fuck.
Intelligible thought flees my brain. Instead, it floods with the memory of Alyssa's mouth on me—that soft, sweet mouth driving me out of my fucking mind.
I clear my throat. "And what are you wearing?"
"That blue dress you like," she says.
"That's far too much. Take it off."
I expect her to object.
But she doesn't.
I slide my T-shirt over my head. It's only fair.
My senses start turning on. The air conditioning is blowing hard, making the hairs on my neck rise.
If she were here, I could throw her on the bed and get this room so fucking hot.
She breathes hard into the phone. "It's off."
Heat spreads through my body, but I can't give in. Not yet. "What's left?"
"A pink bra and a thong."
Fuck, she must look amazing. The pink pressed against her soft skin. The fabric straining over the curves of her hips. Her lips curled into a shy smile. Her cheeks flushed the same pink as her bra.
Mhmm.
I want to be there, be able to peel her bra off her shoulders and bring my mouth to her nipples. To slide her panties down her hips and rub her until she's screaming my name. She's so fucking sexy, and she's so far away.
My cock pulses. God, if she was here...
"I bet you look fucking divine," I say, my voice gravel.
"If you ask nicely, I might send you a picture."
"Hell yes."
She moans into the phone. "That isn't that nice." She's enjoying her turn at torturing me.
"Pretty please." I need that picture.
Her moan is lower, louder. "That's pretty nice..."
"Please, Miss Summers, let me see how amazing you look, so I can go crazy wishing I was next to you."
My phone buzzes with the picture message. She's looking at the mirror withfuck meeyes—that look that says she'd kill to have me inside of her.
Her teeth are sinking into her lip. One hand is on her phone. The other is running over the cups of her bra. It's that pink lacy one, and its straps are falling off her shoulders. Her back is arched and her cheeks are flushed.
It's like she's begging me to touch her. Like she's begging me to run my hands along the edges of her bra. She'd be squirming and groaning, her eyes closed as she fills with pleasure. And she'd arch and groan and pant, begging me to go inside her bra.
