Daddy Crush - Adriana Anders Page 0,26

you.”

“Oh… Oh, God.”

I stop jerking and listen. The sounds are unbearably explicit. A whole new dimension to sex that I’d never fully appreciated. “Good. Another.”

“It’s… I’m…”

“Do it. Two fingers. Stretch that pussy for me. Get it ready.”

More wet sounds, more high, frantic whimpering.

“Close your eyes.”

“O-okay.”

“Push in, nice and slow, the way you’ll take my cock.” I palm myself again, start a stroke, up and back. If I time it just right, with the current soundtrack, I’m almost there, in her room, against her body—not quite inside her, but easing myself between her pussy lips.

“Yes, yes.”

“Say my name.”

“Karl.”

“Yeah.” I grip myself until my fist could almost be her. “I’m fucking you so hard.”

“It’s tight, Karl.”

“Not tight enough. Three fingers.”

“I… I can’t…”

“Don’t make me come over there.” The threat pings all around me, my muscles ready to spring into action, to race to her, buck naked, and make her take three fingers. Maybe more. “My hands are bigger than yours. Won’t be easy if I have to do it in person.”

“Oh…oh…” The rhythm of her hand’s taken over now, I can hear the slick slide, the sharp inhalations. I want to smell her, frustrated that I can’t. I shut my eyes and imagine how good this would be, up close. “It’s…it’s in, Karl.”

“Good. Tell me how I feel.”

“Too much.” She shudders. “Good. So good.”

“Yeah. We’ll make it work.” My balls are high and tight. I pull them, just enough to drag this out.

“Oh, God. It’s coming. I’m almost there.”

“Good.” I let go of my balls and start jerking hard, the final stretch right in front of me. “Say my name.”

“Karl. It’s close.” She sounds frantic, close to scared.

“Fuck. I’m close, too.” I tighten my fist, to the point of pain, like I’ve got to suffer for what I’m doing here. It’s that fucking wrong. “I’m coming for you. Will you? Will you do it for me?” There’s something almost plaintive in the way I ask. Like I’m begging. I am. I’m fucking begging for it and then, because, hell, she should know what effect she has, I say it. “Fuck, Jerusha. Do it. Come for me. Please.”

I screw my eyes shut and let go.

Abruptly, everything goes quiet.

Jerusha

My mouth’s open, but I can’t breathe. My eyes are wide, I can’t see. Every muscle in my body’s seized up and there’s nothing I can do but take it. The way he made me take my own fingers.

Pleasure like I’ve never experienced before. Forced on me, from me, squeezed from my body. I’m not just fluttering, the way I have in the past. This time, the orgasm’s gripped me around the neck and I swear I lose a handful of seconds before floating back to earth.

Maybe longer, judging from the silence on the other end. Did I miss our goodbyes? Has he hung up and called it a night?

“Karl?” I reach for the phone. It’s almost pitch-black in my room, broken only by a swathe of light from the street lamp outside. I’m still shaking, slick with sweat though it’s not entirely warm in here. “You still there?” I can hardly get the words out through my own panting.

His reply’s a low chuckle that sends a shiver through my limp limbs. “Yeah.”

“That was…amazing.”

“Good.” Just that word gives me another aftershock. Like he’s conditioned me to respond to good and yeah…and his name.

“Karl,” I say, just to see what happens.

He growls, I shiver. We’re a regular orchestra.

“You okay? After doing that?”

“I’m amazing.” And because—why not be honest?—I tell him. “If orgasms had a hierarchy, that one would be Gold. No, wait. Is platinum the best?”

“Gold’s good,” he rumbles. “Save platinum for the real event.”

As if caught by surprise, my insides tighten up around nothing. The real event.

“Are we…will you…” I shut my eyes. “Will you show me that, too?”

His lack of answer punches me like a ball to the belly. Sudden tears prickle my sinuses. Which is silly, given what we’ve done. I gather myself, doing my best to ignore the hurt. “Well, thank you. For the…wait. Was that phone sex?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was.”

“So, a two for one. Dirty talk and phone sex.”

“There you go.” His voice is harder, almost businesslike. More awake or unhappy?

“Well, thank you.”

He clears his throat. “Any time.”

Does he mean that? Because I’d honestly keep going, despite the late hour. I glance at the phone. Oh crap. I have to be up in like three hours.

“All right,” I say, unsuccessfully stifling a yawn. “Good night.

“Night, Jerusha.”

I’m about to end the call when