Page 400 of Face Off

“Did you read my letter before bed?”

“Three times.”

“The part where I told you that I beat my dick off?”

“That part received additional attention.”

My hand closes around my cock through my boxer briefs. “How much additional attention?”

“Enough that I had to change the sheets.”

A rough laugh leaves me. “Holy fuck, Charm.”

“You asked.”

“I want the details.”

“You already denied me details in your letter.”

“I told you exactly how I touched myself.”

“You told me you stroked your cock while remembering me. You didn’t tell me how fast, how hard, or what you imagined while you came.”

The uncertainty disappears from her voice. No-filter Charm takes its place, confident enough to demand the truth and filthy enough to know what hearing it will do to both of us. She doesn’t soften the question, laugh to disguise how badly she wants the answer, or ask whether wanting it makes her too much.

“I started slowly,” I tell her. “I was still half asleep when I reached into my boxers. My cock was already hard because I had been dreaming about your voice.”

Her breathing changes.

“I closed my eyes and imagined your body in bed beside me. I thought about your breasts filling my hands and the softness at your waist. Then I remembered the way your pussy feels when you’re close, how wet you become around my fingers and how hard your thighs shake when you’re trying not to come before I allow it.”

“Ryan.”

“You wanted details.”

“I want more.”

My hand slides beneath the waistband. The first stroke pulls a breath from my lungs.

“I started fucking my fist harder while I imagined you looking back at me. You said my name inside the dream, and my body believed you were here. I came across my stomach before I was awake enough to stop it.”

She exhales shakily. “You didn’t want to stop it.”

“No.”

“Do you want to now?”

My grip tightens. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

Her voice lowers. “You.”