I want her.
I open my messaging app, unreasonably excited to see Jerusha’s name pop up.
I hope this doesn’t wake you up, but I was wondering a couple things…
Oh, shit. I wait for what’s next, caught in a mixed-up limbo of my own creation.
1. Did I do something wrong earlier? Or is that just…how people leave things? And 2. Is there more to dirty talk? I think we got sidetracked and I’d like to learn. If you’re still okay with it, of course. :-)
“Fuck!” I mutter, staring at the screen.
Squid woofs from his dog bed.
“It’s okay boy, I just… The hell am I supposed to do?”
He responds with a low whine, clearly wondering what’s gotten into me in the middle of the night.
I drop the phone on the bed, shut my eyes and press my fingers hard to my eyeballs, begging my brain to come up with a solution.
I’ve just picked the phone up to call the whole thing off when it vibrates in my hand.
My dick reacts before I’ve read the damn thing, pulsing like she’s in the room with me.
I’m still wet, thinking about you.
Goddamn. I swallow and reach down to give myself a squeeze. As if she needs lessons.
Two choices hang in the dark in front of me: The obvious one, which is to shut this thing down, now, before someone gets hurt. And the other one; the one my cock’s rooting for. Dive in dick-first.
I put my finger to the screen and type.
Can I call?
Yes.
I hit her name.
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
“Sorry, I—”
“Jerusha, I—”
“Yes?”
“You did nothing wrong. I left because I feel like…” I sigh, looking for the right word. “You know the joke from earlier? You debauching me? Well, I’m pretty sure I’m the one corrupting you.”
“Corrupting? No.” She lets out a laugh that I’ve never heard from her before, like a low, sexy sample of what’s got to be her bedroom voice. “Do you have any idea what I had to do when I got home from your restaurant earlier?”
As if I weren’t listening closely enough already, my ears prick up even further. “Tell me.”
“I had to…” She swallows, and that second or two of delay makes me absolutely wild. “Touch myself. Because of you.” There’s accusation in her tone. It lights me up in ways I couldn’t begin to understand.
“Shit.”
She snuffles.
“Go ahead. Tell me about what you did.”
“Oh, I… Can you… Would you say the thing first?”
“The thing?”
“The corrupting thing. The one that will ruin me. I want to be debauched, Karl. I want you to do it.”
I let out a choked laugh. Who’s corrupting who here?
But fuck it. She wants it. Who am I to baby her? She’s already got over-protective parents. I’m just the guy next door.
Then again, I’m feeling mighty over-protective toward her, or at least possessive. “I’m bossy, Jerusha. Okay? Should never have brought this up, ’cause I’m bossy and pushy and…hell, I’m also a bit of an asshole.”
“No you’re not.”
“Especially in bed. And probably on the phone, if I let it happen that way.”
“I don’t…” She stops for a second or two, like she’s trying to figure out what I’m saying. “I don’t know what that means. Or looks like or—”
“It means, if I do this the way I’d do it with…” Another woman? Hell, no. This one. “If I do this my way, it won’t be pretty.”
“That’s the version I want.”
Fine. “Good, then stop talking right now,” I say, voice low and gruff and mean as hell. My cock’s on board with the shift in tone. “And listen to me.”
“Yes,” she says; a whisper that I wish I could see on her lips, read in her eyes.
“Good.” I wrap my hand around my dick and stroke it, hard.
“Wait.”
I take my hand off.
“You like to be in charge, but I led, that first time. The kiss on my porch.”
“Yeah.” I snort. “Don’t get used to it.” My hand’s already back to its stroking. “I’m touching myself. Thinking of you. You got your hand between your legs?”
“No.”
“Do it.”
Her breathing changes, goes choppy and weird as a long, raspy, moan comes through the phone.
“Wait. Hold on. What are you wearing?”
“My nightshirt.”
I picture that worn out little thing and jerk myself again. “Panties?”
“No.”
“Good. Touch yourself.” After a few seconds, I go on. “Just remember, what I like isn’t what everyone wants, okay? It’s me. Not you. If you’re not comfortable, let me know.”
Maybe I’ll go too far and she’ll end this thing. I’m almost relieved at the idea.
“What about you, Karl? What do you have on?” Of course she turns the tables on me.
Shaking my head, I reply. “Nothing. Just my hand on my erection, you in my brain.”
She releases a harsh exhale. Almost a laugh. “Feels like I’m diving into the deep end with you.”
“You are. Hell, I like a little confrontation with my sex. Some push and pull.” I’m stroking myself fast and hard, wondering how dark I’ll get before she folds. “I want to decide what happens. Got that?”
“Oh…” She exhales in fits and starts, like maybe her body’s moving to a quick rhythm, too.
I shut my eyes, picturing her hand under a blanket her tits jostling with each move.
What I can’t figure out is why she won’t shut this down. I lower my voice. “Got it, Jerusha?”
She whimpers. “Yes. You’re the boss. Yes.”
“Good.” I almost groan at the sounds she makes. “Now say my name.”
“Karl.”
“Good. Again.”
“Karl,” she moans long and low and lost, just the way I’ve imagined.
Like a switch flipping, I’m no longer trying to push her away. Hell, I want this. More than that. I need it.
“Yeah.” I give myself a few good pulls, enough to squeeze a drop of precum from the tip. It makes my hand glide easier. “Dammit. I want to say dirty shit to you.”
“Yes. Yes, do it. Say filthy things.”
“You asked for it.” It’s a warning, an accusation. “I keep thinking about that pussy of yours, Jerusha. About how tight it’ll be. How swollen and pink.”
I listen through a series of high whimpers and go on, already half-addicted to the sound of her. “Fuck, I wanna taste it; all that wetness you’ve got for me.” Now it’s my turn to groan. “I smelled you, tonight, you know? Did you do that on purpose, huh? Come to the door with no panties on?”
“No. No, I—”
“You sure? ’Cause I liked that little nightie. I liked the way it hid you, but gave me access.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Oh you meant it. Waiting up for me like a—” I clamp up, shut my mouth and eyes, and hold my breath for a count of ten. No way am I calling her names, no matter what I warned. No matter what my inner asshole’s begging for.
“Like what?” she asks, sounding eager and breathless.
“Like a…” I scour my brain for something that won’t make this feel wrong. “A dirty girl, waiting for me wet and ready.”
“I am. I mean, I want to be. Your dirty girl. Yours, Karl.” I drop my phone and fumble it back up to my ear.
“Shit, Jerusha, you’re…” Good at this, I almost say, but that would pull her out of the moment, make her self-conscious, which is the last thing I want. I catch my breath, do my best to control the need racing from my brain to my cock and back. “Dirty. Just for me. Nobody else gets this.” I’m losing it, going way too far, too fast. Almost believing half the shit I say. Almost believing she’s mine.
Her Yes eggs me on and, thoug
h I know better, I let it all out. “That little snatch in the open, soaking wet, smelling like sex after you touched yourself. D’you come thinking about me? Huh? D’you rub yourself raw? Cream on your hand, imagining me as your—” Daddy.
I pull back, grunting with effort. What the fuck? This isn’t somewhere my brain’s gone before and though, hell, I’d be into it, I can’t imagine she would.
Time to put a stop to this. I swallow back the filth trying to make its way from my mouth.
“My what?” she whispers, all high and breathy. “What were you going to say?”
I clear my throat. “What do you think?”
“I think…” She swallows, like she’s parched. Or hungry. Or gagging for what I have to give her. “I don’t know.”
“Right. That’s…that’s fine.” I give my shaft a tight, quelling squeeze. “Okay. Let’s, uh… You doing okay? How do you feel?”
“I feel empty.”
My erection pulses. My mouth takes off without me. “Yeah. You need me.”
“Yes.”
“Say it,” I bite out through clamped teeth.
“I need you…inside me.” She gasps. “Karl.”
“Yeah.” The image blasts through me—her open and waiting on all fours, pink cunt glistening for me. Just me. I’d grip her hips, steadying her. Push in. That first press of my cockhead, almost painful in its intensity. “You’ve never taken a cock. Never felt what it’s like.”
“No. No… Will it hurt?”
“I’ll make it good.”
“How?”
I almost lose myself in the endless possibilities. Her sweet, plush body’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. “I’ll eat your pussy. Lick it, suck you till you scream.”
She says something incomprehensible. About to lose it, I’d bet.
“Put me on speaker.”
“Mm?”
“Speaker. I want to hear everything.”
“Everything?”
“Your hands, your pussy. How soaking wet you are.”
“Oh… O-okay.”
I do the same and put the phone down, almost laughing at the cramp in my hand.
I spit in my palm and, because I want her to know just how lewd I can get, I tell her. “I’m using saliva…as lube.” I run one slick fist from my crown to the bottom of my cock, grabbing my balls with the other. Every move is exaggerated, every noise magnified for her listening pleasure. “Do it.”
“What?”
“Spit. In your hand.”
When she does, the sound has me picturing things—her face over my dick, my hand in her hair. Her little tongue, all over me, lapping me up. Sucking me deep. Would she do that?
Talk about corruption. Would I let her? What is it about this woman that makes me want to take things too far?
“Use it to touch yourself. Make it so easy.”
A groan slices from my phone, straight through the air and into my lungs. I have the irrational desire to jump out of bed and race over there.
That urge ramps things up, pushes me further. “I’ve been rock-hard for hours, Jerusha. Since you pranced into my restaurant, all smiley and fresh.” On a date with another man. I growl. “Now I’m picturing you with that pussy out, just waiting for me. Did you wait up for me tonight ’cause you wanted me to fuck you? Hm? D’you text me so I’d come over and make you come again?”
“Y-yes.” Filthy, wet sounds. “Yes, Karl.”
“Fuck,” I whisper, working myself fast and hard. “Dirty girl.”
“I…I am.”
“What?” I slow, barely able to focus through the haze of want, the need to come.
“I’m a dirty girl. A…oh, God, I’m a s-slut. Your dirty little slut.”
Holy hell, where did that come from?
“Good,” I grit out. “Now stuff a finger into your tight hole.”
“Into my…my…”
“Do it. Put a finger in your cunt, Jerusha. I want to hear 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.”
&
nbsp; 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 his voice comes through. “Oh, and Jerusha.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not a, uh…” He clears his throat. “You’re not a slut. You know that, right?”
“I know.” I giggle. “I don’t believe in that anyway.”
“Sluts?”
“Shaming people.”
“Good,” he says, low and rough enough to light another fire inside.
I open my mouth to ask if there’ll be another session, but he’s already talking.
“Sleep tight, Jerusha.”
I open my mouth to respond and he’s gone.
11
Don’t speak
Jerusha
As if I weren’t exhausted enough, everything goes haywire the next morning. I don’t have time to pack my lunch and spend my entire morning fighting the growling in my belly. I dye a batch of wool, which, due to inattention, ends up poop brown instead of purple. And I almost get run over, crossing on a red light, on the way to meet my friends in our favorite coffee shop. The driver screams insults at me for a good twenty seconds before taking off too fast down Grace Street.
Which should burst my bubble, given how lewd it was. Ironically, it feeds the hunger. And not for food this time. It’s my hunger for Karl that’s doing my head in. I’ve thought about him constantly, in a half-dream state, where my body’s this lush, heavy thing, filled with want, and bad words are things that he might say to turn me on.
Daddy Crush Page 7
