“Tell me what you’re doing, Eli…” he said, his own breath hitching as he tightened his grip.
And she did. In wonderful, vivid detail until every part of him was ready to explode.
“Tell me what I’d see right now, Beck…” she whispered after he’d made a pained sound.
“I’m sliding my fist faster now,” he said, voice strained. “Squeezing tighter, getting slippery from more than lube. I’m imagining you here. Your hands on me. Your mouth…”
“Tell me everything you’re doing,” she said, her words barely a whisper now, her breathing turning choppy. “Please don’t stop.”
He replied with filthy words and detailed description, losing himself to the sounds of her pleasure, because he couldn’t tell her the real answer to that question.What am I doing?
Getting too close.
Enjoying this too much.
Breaking every damn rule in my book.
This thing with Eliza was supposed to be fun, and itwas, but it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to matter.