“I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” he said.
“Do you know how much I want you?” I needed to up the ante. I wasn’t giving up. “I’m already touching myself. My fingers are in my panties. I’ve been playing with myself for days thinking about you.”
Dead air, but I picked up on the short pants coming through the speaker. Mission accomplished. I put the phone on speaker, positioning it next to my mouth, “I’ve dreamed about us together,” I said, eliciting a moan. “I envision your hands all over my body, touching me everywhere, and how fucking amazing we’d feel skin-to-skin. I haven’t fucked anyone since I’ve started seeing you. Do you want to know why?”
“Why?” He squeaked out.
“Because the thought of someone else inside of me makes me sick to my stomach. It makes my skin crawl. You should be the one inside of me, not anyone else.”
Fuck, my own words were enough to set me off. Alcohol was making me one vocal bitch. I would’ve never admitted that to him sober. I guess drunken minds really do speak sober thoughts.
I used my free hand to pull up my bra, feeling my nipples harden against my palm as I kneaded them. I dragged my juices around my slit, the tips of my fingers sliding along my opening until I couldn’t take it anymore. I wasn’t a stranger to getting myself off. I knew how I liked it.
“I’m so wet,” I confessed. I’d never wanted something so badly. I desperately wanted to push a finger inside of my throbbing heat, but I held back, waiting for him to play this game with me. I gritted my teeth, failing at suppressing a loud moan, when I spread my legs wider and finally slipped a finger inside. I was going to do this whether he decided to participate or not.
“I can’t do this,” he croaked out. “I can’t do this.”
“Are you telling me you’ve never thought about it before? You’ve never thought about bending me over that desk and pounding inside of me?”
“This can not happen,” he ground out, warring with himself whether to give in or not.
I already knew his answer. He would’ve hung up a long time ago if he didn’t want to play along. I just needed to give him that pushing start.
I twisted a nipple. “You’re not my doctor. You’re not my therapist. I’m a woman and you’re a man. We’re both attracted together. It’s as simple as that.”
“Goddamn it,” he growled, silence hanging in between us and I held back a squeal when he broke it. “This can never come up.”
“Never.” An electric jolt sparked through me and I realized this was really going to happen. Excitement fizzled along my fingertips while I moved my finger in and out of myself.
“If you want this with me, you have to listen, okay?”
“Anything,” I moaned out. I’d never wanted somebody inside of me so desperately as I did him. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was so forbidden, or because he found something in me nobody else did, but I was salivating with obsession over this man.
“Are you wearing panties?”
“Yes.”
“Are your fingers in panties? Are you playing with your pretty little pussy right now?”
Holy fucking shit. Weston had a filthy little mouth on him. “Yes.”
“Take them out,” he demanded.
I froze, frowning. “What? I swear to God,” I spat. “You better not be fucking with me.” If he was playing some sick, twisted game, I was going to stomp right over to Wendy’s office and burn the whole fucking building down.
He chuckled. “I’m not, but you have to listen to me if you want to play and I’ll make you feel good.”
Fuck, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Sex was the one thing I had control over in my life. I’d never allowed a man I was willingly having sex with dictate how we were fucking. I’d never been submissive in the bedroom because of what had happened to me. I’d tell them how to fuck me. I’d tell them how to touch me. The saying, “I have the pussy so I make the rules,” was my personal mantra. So I wasn’t sure how I’d react to his commands.
“Do it,” he said, harshly. “Drag your fingers out of your pussy or I’m hanging up.”
My pussy throbbed when I pulled my fingers out, bringing them out of my panties and resting on my stomach. “Fine, fingers gone, you happy?”
“That’s my good girl. Now, rub one finger across your wet clit.” What the hell? That’s what I was just doing. “Over your panties,” he added.
If I wasn’t so damn turned on, I would’ve told him to fuck off, but I followed his directions. This man could’ve had me doing anything right now. My hand shook when I brushed it over my panties and shivered when the coarse fabric rubbed up against my clit. I moved three fingers back and forth along my core, my body aching for more.
“Are you doing what I said?” He asked.
“Yes,” I groaned, increasing my speed, the material of my panties with the friction of my fingers grinding them on my clit felt exhilarating. I kicked my blanket off of me to focus on my hand.
“Does it feel good?”
“God yes, so good.” It felt better than good. It felt fucking electrifying. I continued to feel the strong jolts kick through my body. “More,” I panted. “Give me more.” I put more pressure on my clit, my mouth falling open.
“Run your hand along the edge of your panties, then slowly dip it in. Touch yourself. I want you to feel how bad you want me. I want you to see how wet I make you.” Fire scorched in the pit of my stomach and my fingers went to work to put it out. “How wet do I make you?”
“I’m soaked,” I moaned out, shocked I could even speak. It felt so fucking good. My fingers gained momentum. “Can I put it in?”
“Are you aching for me to be inside of you?”
Damn, the man knew how to play mind games. I zoned in on him, listening to his breathing and my arousal instantly peaked. Holy shit, he was playing with himself. He was jacking himself off to me. I was sure of it.
“Are you jacking off?” I asked, unable to hold back my curiosity. I knew if he said yes, it would be over. I’d be off in a matter of seconds with the mental image of him sprawled out on his bed, his pajama pants down to his knees, while he stroked himself wildly.
My fingertips went numb while I waited for his answer. “Yes,” he croaked out. “I’m jerking off thinking about you playing with your wet pussy for me. I’m imagining what you feel like, how slick you’d be around my cock, and how you’d taste on my tongue.”
“Do you have a big cock?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Mystery is captivating, baby. Now, you can slide a finger into your tight pussy while I’m kissing your neck, tracing my lips up and down your smooth collarbone.” My breath caught in the back of my throat when I pushed my middle finger inside of myself. “I’m playing with you right now. I can feel every inch of you. You’re so wet. So tight.”
I added another finger without asking for permission. I drew it along the inside of my soft folds and anxiously plunged it in and out.
“Do you like me finger fucking you?”
“God, yes.” I quivered, my body vibrating with each stroke.
His breathing labored, his grunts coming out in long intervals that matched mine, as we both let our imagery take over.
“Am I finger fucking you hard or slow?”
“Hard, so fucking hard.” I increased my speed, gliding in and out of myself like it was my fucking job and I needed a raise.
“Do you wish my dick was inside of you? Plundering you with each thrust, sinking deep inside of you and making you feel so good?”
“I wish your big cock was inside of me right now,” I gasped, my body firing up at our words, and I knew I was ready. I could feel the tingles multiplying through my body and shooting straight to my core. I didn’t want to be ready, I wanted this to last forever, but my body couldn’t take anymore.
“You’re getting there,” he said. “Now play with your clit.”
“Are you almost there?” I asked, moving my hand off of my breast, pushing it down to my panti
es until I reached my clit. I didn’t want to leave him behind, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to last.
“My strokes are getting faster. I’m almost there, baby, almost fucking there. Fuck yes,” he grunted. “You’re so tight, so tight with my cock pumping in and out of you.”
Holy fuck. I wanted all of that. “I want to feel all of you,” I moaned.
“You got it all. You feel it?”
I slammed my eyes shut, the room growing dizzy while my imagination went wild. “Yes, you’re inside so deep.”
“You’re so tight.” I was so wet. I could feel it with every slip as I dripped onto my sheets. “You’re going to get off now, you hear me? I’m there in your bed, our bodies slapping together, my sweat dripping on your big, delicious breasts, and I’m going to get off inside of you.”
His words were killing me. My lungs decided they were ready to give out, and all of the blood rushed from my heart, through my belly and in between my legs. My body trembled as it came down from its high.
Fuck, drunken phone sex with Weston was more intense than real sex with anyone else. My entire body tingled while the waves of pleasure hindered within me. He groaned a few times and a long growl escaped his throat, letting out his release.
“Holy shit,” I said, around a breath. “I guess you do have a kinky side.” I wanted more of it.
“This never happened,” he said, quickly. And my high completely crashed down and blew into pieces.
“This never happened,” I squeaked out, trying to keep my voice level so he wouldn’t sense my disappointment. “I promise I won’t tell anyone,” I added, my eyelids growing heavy.
“Sleep tight.” And the line went dead.
I slammed my hands down against the bed. “Such a stupid girl,” I muttered. “Stupid fucking girl.”
My head screamed at myself as I tossed and turned the rest of the night. I’d given Weston the reigns over my body, my orgasm, and my mind. I’d never done that with anyone. Then he got off and left me. Just like the rest of them.
Only this time I didn’t try to fight it. I only wanted more.
I’d let him have it. I’d given him a piece of me and he’d stomped on it. Was that how it felt when you’re falling for someone and they’re not there to catch you? Is that how it felt to be unwanted?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ELISE
“Mother of God,” I croaked. I whipped my hand out from underneath the blanket and felt around on my nightstand. Ignoring the bottle of vodka, I let out a sigh of relief when I found an old water bottle. I slowly took off the cap, brought the rim to my lips and took a sideways sip. I ignored the drizzle running down my chin and onto my pillow. There was no way in hell I was getting up yet. My head would topple over and fall at my feet.
I groaned, pressing my blanket over my face, when I heard the antagonizing sound of my phone ringing. I spewed out a string of curse words at it the entire time it rang until it went silent.
“Thank you, Jesus,” I grumbled. I slapped my bed when it started to ring again, and tapped around until I found it.
“What?” I yelled into it without bothering to look at the caller.
“Morning, sunshine,” Weston said, cheerfully.
“Screw you.” I hung up and tossed the phone onto the floor. I didn’t have the patience for his self-help, lecture bullshit this early.
I finally managed to drag my hung-over ass out of bed an hour later and into the shower. I kept myself level against the wall, granting the water permission to sprinkle down my body, and my mind went over yesterday’s events.
I wanted to erase the day from ever happening. Flashbacks came back faster than the drops scattering down my naked body. Weston believed me about my rape. My dad talked about my mom. My arm went to the shower wall and I took a deep breath. The shots of vodka, and then the more shots of vodka. I couldn’t stand up straight. I’d called Weston. My body stiffened. Dear God, I’d called Weston.
My brain scrambled, trying its hardest to recollect everything I’d said, and it hit me. Mother fucker. I’d told him I’d been fingering myself to thoughts of him screwing me. Vodka was one chatty bitch. Then he basically told me he’d been doing the same thing, and we both got each other off. Everything I’d done in my bed last night came back to me. I thought about Weston’s dirty words and how easily he’d gotten me off.
I captured one of my breasts and played with my hard nipple. I envisioned Weston behind me, pressing me up against the glass wall with his voice in my ear and the shower drowning out our moans. My hand roamed down my thighs and I plunged a finger inside of myself. I repeated the same motions Weston had instructed me to do over the phone. I slid one finger in, then out, and then pushed another one in. My hung over, hazy brain couldn’t remember how I’d gotten so damn drunk, but it remembered everything about the man I shouldn’t have been having phone sex with.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ELISE
A short, petite woman was sitting behind the office desk when I walked in. I recognized her as the one who’d come in during our first session. This was Wendy. I surveyed the room and my heart did a nosedive into my stomach when I didn’t see Weston.
I shut my eyes and took a calming breath. Was he bailing on me? Was he calling this morning to cancel?
“Oh hey, I’m Wendy,” she greeted when she caught sight of me. “Wes called. He’s running a few minutes late. He told me to tell you to go ahead and get comfortable.”
Her eyes followed me as I slowly walked over to the couch and sat down with my purse resting in my lap. “Thanks,” I said, bouncing a knee.
She pulled herself up from the chair, walked around the desk, and leaned back against it. “How do you two know each other?” She asked, cocking her head to the side.
I tugged onto my lower lip with my teeth as I tried to figure out the answer to her question. Had Weston told her a story and she was testing me to see if it matched up with mine? I wasn’t sure what her motive was.
She waved her hand through the air when she noticed my hesitation. “It’s personal, I get it. I apologize for asking and if I seemed intrusive, but you can’t blame a girl for being curious.” Actually I could. It was called mind your own damn business.
I played with the strap of my bag. “Curious about what?” I asked, coldly. If there was one thing I hated, it was nosy people. I couldn’t piss her off too bad, though, because we had to use her office.
“I promise I don’t have bad intentions,” she said, cautiously. “I don’t understand why he’s seeing you in secret. It’s not like him. He’s always been a by-the-book kind of guy.” She laughed and tilted her head back. “You should’ve seen him in college. It was hell trying to pry him away from his studies and drag him out to have some fun.”
I cracked a small smile. “That doesn’t surprise me. I’m sure nothing has changed.” Well, other than the fact that he was stroking his cock to my voice last night.
“But he’s different with you. When you leave, I talk to him and I can tell there’s something. He’s getting attached to you. I knew he had some kind of interest in you, but now it’s more than that. You’re something to him and I haven’t decided if it’s healthy or not.” She paused, like she was debating whether or not to elaborate. “What are you to him? What is he to you?”
I decided to stay silent, pulling my phone from my purse and checking to see if I had any texts from him. What was Weston to me? What was I to Weston? I didn’t know the answer to either one of those questions, and I was terrified to find them out.
“He cares about you,” she pointed out, not letting me off the hook.
“He cares about all of his patients,” I threw back, scowling at her, and then moving my attention to the door. Weston needed to hurry his ass up before I snapped on this woman to stop her prying questions. I knew she probably had Weston’s best interests at heart, but I didn’t want to hear her say he was making a mistake with me.
“That’s true, but he really c
ares for you. Trust me, it’s not a patient type of care. It’s different, it’s something more, so please don’t hurt him. He’s a good man.”
The scowl on my face morphed into fear. She was right. I hurt everyone around me. I was afraid I’d do the same to him.
“Sorry I’m late,” Weston said, barging into the room, and Wendy’s mouth slammed shut. “Is everything okay?” He asked, looking back and forth between the two of us.
Wendy smacked her hands against her knees. “Just having some girl talk,” she told him, smiling brightly.
He looked over at me, waiting for me to say something, and I shrugged my shoulders like an idiot.
“Okay,” he drew out.
“I’ll leave you two to it,” Wendy said, walking to him and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving the room.
I wasn’t sure if this woman was for me or against me.
Weston threw his bag down onto the desk, looking exhausted with hollow eyes and an unshaven face while he shrugged out of his coat.
“Hey,” I said, when he turned to look at me. I crossed my legs and waved shyly at him. When the hell had I become shy?”
“Hey there,” he said, upbeat and chirpy. His attitude didn’t match his behavior. He grabbed the chair behind the desk and wheeled it in front of me, like he’d always done, but he did it quietly this time and without food in his hand.
Yep. Hello Mr. Awkward.
I’d told him it wouldn’t be that way, but it was like any other one-night stand. You can’t wait to get the person naked, not thinking about any future consequences, only the urge between your legs. You swear to each other it won’t change anything if you know each other, but it does. You either have to sneak out of their house early in the morning and pretend it didn’t happen, or face the painful morning after. Even if it was just phone sex, it had changed us. I didn’t like that.
“We’re not going to make this weird, okay,” he told me, making himself comfortable while I slipped out of my jacket.
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