Page 600 of Summer Heat
I imagine it’s his fingertips instead of mine touching my wet slit, his slick fingers sliding in and out of me.
Before I know it, I’m lost in the fantasy of his tongue stroking my swelling clit, alternating between sucking it hard and grazing it with his teeth.
The sound of his harsh, strained breathing over the phone line has me rubbing my clit harder, faster, until my entire body is nearly shaking with pleasure. In my mind, he’s stroking his cock to the same rhythm, with the same urgency. And holy hell, that image has me close to coming already.
But…without Jason’s dirty talk, it’s just not the same.
“Fuck yourself with your fingers, baby. Get yourself ready for when I get back.” His voice hardens to a tense growl. “Imagine it’s my cock sliding in and out of your slick, hot pussy.”
When I open my eyes to see him pumping his cock on the screen, I ask softly, “Just my pussy?”
“Fucking hell, Summer. Are you saying you’re going to let me have your mouth when I come home? Tell me.”
“Yes.” I’m reduced down to one-word replies.
Jason has no such problem. “That’ll make me come, sweetheart. Are you going to let me come in your mouth? Or in that tight pussy?”
I’m unable to answer. Because the very thought of him coming anywhere inside me has me shattering into pieces, my orgasm so intense I scream out his name as pulses of wet heat rip through me.
He groans.
I’m out of breath, but not too far gone to ask him a question of my own. “Are you going to do all these dirty things you keep telling me anytime soon?”
His voice sounds on edge, but still unwavering. “I told you, we don’t have to rush this. We can wait. Your first time is a big deal.”
“And I’m ready,” I say, a hundred percent certain.
His breathing sounds labored. “Fucking hell, I’m so hard it almost hurts.”
“Because you’re thinking about taking my virginity?”
“Jesus Christ, stop, Summer.”
After all the torture he’s put me through, I can’t help but smile.
Which prompts a groaning chuckle from him. “You’re evil, woman. And I’m going to make you pay as soon as I get home.”
“Promises, promises.”
Suddenly, his smile goes wicked.
And now I’m a teeny bit worried.
“Remember how you asked me what consequences there’d be for touching yourself without me on the phone, baby?”
I fee
l my breathing start to thin.
“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll tell you,” he says, his voice lowering to a deep, sexy, commanding timbre. “After I make you come in my mouth at least two times, more likely three, I’m going to rub my cock all over your hard little clit until you come all over me. Then, and only then, will I let myself come.” His harsh, rumbling tone turns positively primal. “All over your wet slit…to mark it as mine.”
Oh my god.
“But before I come,” he growls, “I’ll have you take me in that sexy mouth of yours—so you’ll be able to taste yourself on me. Taste how fucking sweet you are, why I’m so damn addicted to making you come.”
By this point, I’m a trembling mess, strung out like an addict overdosing on vivid, dirty, overstimulating sex images.
And that’s when he just…stops.
