go first," she replied, and she knew she was doomed, because now she was actually asking for it.
"You really want me to tell you what I'd do to you if I was there, with you?" he rasped.
In contrast with other parts of her anatomy, her throat had gone dry.
"Yes," she breathed into the phone, and to hell with the consequences.
She couldn't deny her urges forever. Also, she was pretty sure she'd heard Anna leave the bathroom and close the living-room door, which means her sister was out of earshot.
"Let me see — where to start?" he said slowly. "Are you still wearing those wicked heels?"
She looked at the shoes she dropped by her bedside table, and with a sigh slipped her poor battered feet back into them, wincing. Just as long as she stayed on the bed, she should be fine.
"Yes," she whispered. "But I have to confess I got rid of some of my clothes."
His groan was heartfelt.
"Go on."
"All I'm wearing is this see-through shirt over a lacy camisole, and I'm thinking I should take the shirt off."
"Or... Maybe you should take the camisole off, and your bra, and keep the see-through shirt on."
"Saucy," she said. "I like it. Hang on."
She wedged her phone under her ear and started unbuttoning her shirt. "What are you wearing?"
"Just my pants. I had to strip out of that sweaty T-shirt."
She could just imagine him, bare-chested in the middle of his apartment, a slight sheen of sweat on his pale chiseled torso, the corded muscles of his arms flexing as he held the phone to his ear.
"Are you standing — sitting?"
"I'm in my armchair — facing the windows over the park, and I'm remembering how unbelievably sexy you were that night, pressed against the glass. In fact I'm looking at the exact place where I could still see your palm prints the next day. It was a surprisingly erotic reminder."
As his voice dipped, Emmy's mind was filled with recollections of that evening, with the image of her face in the glass, aroused and debauched as he fucked her mercilessly, exposed to any chance Manhattan voyeur as she took her pleasure again and again.
"But enough about me," he said, "Let's get back to you. I can just imagine you, lying down on your bed, wearing just your flimsy shirt and some underwear — something tiny and lacy, I bet — am I right?"
"You might just be," she exhaled, one finger tracing the edge of her lacy black boy-shorts.
"So — you're still wearing those fuck-me shoes, your makeup's a little smeared, your hair wild, your mouth still swollen from kissing me — God, you look hot."
He lowered his voice further.
"I bet you're feeling on edge and itching to get your hand into your lacy underwear. Or maybe you want to play with your nipples first, until they peak under the black chiffon."
God help her but she was doing just that, her right hand teasing one aching nub, then the other, nails just grazing the sensitive tip, and imagining his hands instead of hers. She took a shaky breath.
He was relentless.
"I want to chase your fingers with my mouth, to suck your tits through your shirt until you're begging me to go down on you."
"God, Eric," she panted, and she was no longer teasing now and had slipped her hand inside her shorts, where she was slick and hot and wanting.
"Fuck, Em," he groaned, "I want to make you come under my tongue, lick you slow and deep, the taste of you in my mouth."
He was sounding out of breath too.
"Are you touching yourself?" she asked, trying not to sound desperate as she stroked her engorged clit.
"Hell yes, and I wish it was your mouth stretched around my cock, darling, rather than my own palm. How about you? Are your fingers down your panties yet?"
"I... yes," she said, beyond shame, "and I'm so close..."
"Just do it," he urged her. "I want to hear you come."
And just like that, she increased the pressure and she did, with a cry of relief, because she really needed the orgasm which radiated through her body in long waves of pleasure.
"Oh my God," she heard herself saying, over and over, her voice breaking, "Oh, God, Eric."
There was a strangled moan at the other end of the line, and she knew he was letting go. She waited, listening to her frantic heartbeat as she tried to regain control of her breath.