Page 599 of Summer Heat
All week, Jason held firm on his demand.
So far, we’ve video-chatted five times during his trip, and in each call, he’s made sure to talk me through at least one orgasm, usually two.
As a result, interestingly enough, I found myself sleeping better than I ever have in my life.
Today though, I’m determined not to fall asleep on him right after coming my brains out.
It’s Sunday morning for me, meaning it’s late at night in China. Perfect timing. I text him to see if he’s gone to bed yet.
My cell rings almost immediately.
“Hi,” I answer the video call, doing my best to quell my nervousness.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He sounds tired. Which has me rethinking my grand plan for the call. That is, until he asks, “Are you wearing your strawberry panties this morning or the pineapples?”
I shake my head. “No panties this morning.”
That makes him look loads more awake on the screen. “Yeah?”
“Mmm hmm,” I reply casually. “Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to ask. You remember how you told me that I couldn’t touch myself without you on the phone?”
“Yes,” he says, his tone now intense.
“What if I did…touch myself? Before you called. Would there be say, a consequence for said hypothetical action?”
His eyes flare with heat, and his chiseled jaw goes granite hard.
Oh wow, this is getting fun.
“Did you touch yourself, Summer?” he asks in a deceptively calm voice.
Instead of answer, I angle my phone camera lower.
“Fucking hell.”
Good lord, I love it when he starts losing control.
Knowing my face is probably as red as a lobster right now, I keep the phone pointed downward, on what my fingers are currently doing.
The sound of his belt hitting the floor is pure music to my ears.
“How many drive-by orgasms have you given me now, you think?” I ask, breathless, but determined.
“A few dozen at least,” he murmurs, sounding wholly distracted. “Always the best part of my day.”
Really, the man says the sweetest things.
“Well, I want my turn to do that for you,” I say as I slip two fingers deep inside of me, to show him just how wet I am already.
His resulting groan rips over the phone line.
“You don’t have to say anything,” I say. “Just…watch.”
Since acting isn’t even a remote forte of mine, I rely on all the hot, vivid memories I have of Jason making me come to help me through this.
Highly effective plan, I discover.
I shut my eyes and can almost feel his hands running over my breasts, teasing my nipples to stiff peaks as he whispers his trademark wicked dirty talk in my ear.
