Page 40 of Branded
“Oh, God,” I breathed.
Right there.
So close.
So fucking close.
So—
My phone began buzzing.
“No, no,” I said, my attention being drawn roughly away from my pussy, my clit, the vibrator. I fumbled, hands full of toy…full of toy…and tittie and?—
Releasing my breast, I tried to hit the button to silence the call, but missed, knocking my phone off the nightstand, dropping it onto my chest.
“Shit,” I whispered, trying to keep the toy in place, so fucking close that I just needed…ten…more…seconds.
But the phone was still buzzing.
And my vibrator…my vibrator, slowly wasn’t.
The perfect pressure quickly turned into not enough, into a desperate sprint to the finish line, all while my fucking cell phone continued to bounce and ring and vibrate on my chest.
“Shit. Fucking. Hell,” I hissed, reaching for the phone, intending to chuck it across the room.
Except—
Fucking hell.
my finger slipped, dragging across the screen, and…answering the fucking call.
Then as I was processing that, I fumbled my grip and promptly dropped it to the mattress, sending it skittering over the lump of blankets and just out of reach.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I breathed, rolling to my side and scrambling toward it, the vibrator still inside me, its battery dying its slow death, and seriously, why the fuck hadn’t I charged it after the last time I’d used it and?—
My fingers found the edges of my cell.
Thank God.
I leaned up, started to hit end.
But then I heard it, “Kailey? Kailey? Little bird, are you okay?”
I was fantasizing about his dick being inside me, and…he was on the fucking phone. And my only inane thought was—how had he gotten my number?
“Little bird,” Smitty demanded, his voice piercing through the speaker. “Answer me or?—”
Another scramble.
This one brought the phone up to my ear. “Hello? Hello?”
Was I out of breath? Yes. Was it partly because of the scramble, but mostly because of what was happening between my legs and the fact that Smitty’s rumbling voice was now in my ears instead of my mind.
“Are you okay?” he asked, real concern in his tone.
Okay? Yes.
Sounding like I’d just finished running a half-fucking-marathon when the only thing I ever ran was a razor occasionally (and I meant occasionally) up my legs.
