Called Right

A SPICY NOVELLA

RHIANNA BURWELL

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Copyright © 2024 Rhianna Burwell
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living
or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or
by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written
permission of the publisher.

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 Contents

1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Epilogue
20. Books By This Author
21. About This Author

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 Chapter 1

Reid

T heallowing
room is busy with commotion, and I try to settle into my seat, not
the feelings of jealousy to even phase me. If I’m being honest
though, I’m doing a shitty job. I’m happy for Finn. Of course I am. He
deserves this more than anyone else I know, but Jesus Christ, I’m ready for
what he has. I’m ready for the love and the peace that comes with having
your person with you. Feels like I’ve been ready for a while, but the
universe likes to play tricks like that, get you ready for something and then
keep it from you, make you start to sweat.
I push the thought away, trying to get over myself and stop being so self-
involved. The reception hall is set up beautifully, the quartet in front playing
classical music, the rows of seats full of people mingling around. The room
is fancy yet simple, like they thought of everything.
I glance around the room, looking for anyone I know. I am not
necessarily comfortable sitting here by myself. I am not used to feeling so
out of place. It feels like I knew Finn in a past life, before all of this, before
fame and money. I knew him when we were kids, and it grew from there. I
saw him at his worst: when he got rejected by Cindy Warren, when he asked
her to prom, when he crashed his first car with me in the passenger seat, and
when he showed up drunk to meet his first girlfriend's parents. Who do you
think gave him the booze? We have been ride or die since the beginning,
and I wouldn't have missed this day for the world. We’ve kept in touch, not
as much as we’d like, but we always get back together, and it feels like no
time has passed. Usually, though, if we meet up with people, it’s other
buddies from high school, all of us catching up. But here, I feel like the
only one from his past. Everyone seems to know one another, and I don’t
have a way in, not without Finn. So I just sit here, waiting for the wedding
to start, pushing down every ounce of longing that is filling my blood and
thickening in my throat.
The music changes, and suddenly, all the guests are finding their seats,
and the ceremony will soon be starting. It takes a few minutes before
everyone is settled, and when I shift to look behind me, Finn is walking
down, glancing between the aisles, saying ‘hi’ to everyone. He makes eye
contact with me, giving me a small head nod, and I smile back. He looks a
little nervous, more nervous than I’ve ever seen him. Finn isn’t one to get
phased, but when it comes to Emma, he can’t help himself.
I watch him take his place at the altar, looking at his shoes as he makes
sure he is in the right spot. He then looks up as the bridal party starts to
make their way down in couples. All the women wear the same color dress,
a dark green, a forest green, darkening the room, giving the whiteness
surrounding us life. Each dress is a different shape though, giving them all a
unique flare. The men all match, their black tuxedos all exactly the same,
and it looks put together, nice. They walk slowly, looking around the room
and smiling, couples coming one after another until there are five people
standing up at the altar with the officiant.
One last couple comes out right before the bride is going to make her
entrance, and I assume it must be the best man and maid of honor, but the
second I see them, my brain fucking short circuits. The maid of honor is
beautiful. Her hair is up, with a few pieces falling around her shoulders,
wisping against her shoulders. She smiles, and my eyes become entranced
by her mouth and the way it lights up the room. She has her arm linked with
the best man, but I don’t look at him. She takes all of my attention as she
walks down the aisle, smiling at the guests, her walk confident, her eyes
bright.
 She takes her place near the altar, looking out, waiting for Emma, but I
just stare at her, mesmerized. The music again shifts, signaling the approach
of the bride. Reluctantly, I turn away from the unknown woman and try to
be present.

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 Chapter 2

Avery

I dry my eyes with the tissue, now crumbled and wet in my hand, my tears
soaking through the thin paper. I knew I would cry, watching my sister
marry the love of her life, but I didn’t know I would be a fountain.
The ceremony is short. Finn and Emma both want a moment to
themselves before being announced as husband and wife. Emma and I
discussed this heavily, trying to figure out how much she wanted in public
and how much she wanted to be by themselves. There was, and is, always a
risk of the wedding getting leaked. Someone could send a video and make
some easy money. The whole ceremony could be on the internet before they
have even put the chairs away. They had to be careful how much was in
front of people and consider how much was kept private for just the two of
them. I think it’s romantic, all things considered.
They both say, ‘I do’, and I try to will my tears away, but it is useless. I’m
so happy for her that it is disgusting. We all knew it was coming. The
second she brought Finn around, introducing him to our family, we knew he
was the one. We knew, just based on how they looked at each other, how
Finn watched her and acted as if she hung the moon. He couldn’t get
enough of her from the very beginning. Even now, standing there marrying
her, he looks at her the same way, as if he has never wanted anyone else
since he saw her for the first time, as if he couldn’t imagine himself with
anyone else.
She has exactly what she’s always wanted: a partner who is an actual
partner, a person who is there for her as much as she is there for him. She is
living the dream, finding someone she can call her equal. Most of us just
wish for a good hookup every now and again, desperate for, at minimum,
some good sex. But for many, myself included, we don’t even get that
lucky.
Speaking of, it’s probably a bad idea to use my sister's wedding to try to
hook up with someone, right? Part of me thinks maybe. I shouldn’t be using
her day as a time for me to get laid, but also, I don’t think I’ve been in a
room with this many single men in a few years… probably since the last
wedding I went to. If I want to find someone to fuck, today is the day, and
trust me when I say, I do.
I stopped dating a while ago, throwing in the towel after my last
boyfriend gave me nothing. He wasn’t bad or inattentive. I just realized that
I was losing so much more than I was gaining. That’s how relationships feel
for me now, like something that is going to suck resources from me instead
of filling me with more. It just seemed so taxing to keep dating, to keep
looking for someone to be my partner, when I could just be my own partner.
When I could fill my own well. I can do everything I need, can treat myself
the way I’ve been begging men to, and now a relationship just feels like
something I don’t want anymore.
Ever since then, I just fuck guys. I have sex with them and leave while
the night is still young, while I can still go home and take care of myself
like a man never would. I have gotten so good at treating myself the way I
deserve that it has started to feel like all men are good for is a quick fuck, at
least in my life.
And sometimes, they can’t even get that right.
But today, I have at least the smallest amount of hope. I feel like I have a
real chance of getting fucked the way I deserve. If I could even get a single
orgasm, from a man and not my vibrator, I think I would be happy. I’m not
greedy. I’m willing to take what I can get.
 Finn and Emma finally turn to the crowd, the ceremony over, and I bring
myself back to the moment, trying to stop focusing on myself and my
growing sexual frustration. They kiss, Finn dipping Emma, and when they
come back up for air with the biggest smiles on both of their faces, they
walk down the aisle. Finn’s hand rests on Emma's back, as if he can’t get
enough of her, as if he doesn’t want a moment without her, and I feel myself
melt, my happiness for her overwhelming.
They exit, and the crowd makes their way into the ballroom, where the
rest of the party is going to be taking place. I follow the crowd, working
slowly into the space that Emma has been stressing over for the last month,
discussing every detail with me. They went all out, money not being
something that stopped them since Finn has plenty to go around. The room
is gorgeous, with tables lining the walls, the entire room a big circle, the
center of the room being a huge dance floor. The DJ is set up at the edge.
He messes with his equipment, and then he takes the mic and introduces
himself.
I tune him out, taking this time to glance around the room, find someone
to talk to, find someone who piques my interest, find someone who could
make me forget myself, even just for a moment.
My eyes catch on someone, a man, looking a little out of place, sitting at
the bar, glancing around the room. I stare at him for a second, appreciating
his broad shoulders in his dress shirt, his long legs, and the pants that cover
them. I stare at him, for a moment longer than is probably appropriate, and
as if he can feel my gaze, his head turns, our eyes connecting. I watch as he
looks me over, his eyes glancing down my body, just for a moment, and
they hold heat, enough heat to make my skin burn. Suddenly I see my
moment, see how this night could be turned into something fucking blissful.
I take a step toward him, intent on finding out if this man is the man I’m
going to fuck tonight.

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 Chapter 3

Reid

S heaway.
is goddamn gorgeous, and I can feel her eyes on me, even after I turn
I try not to make it obvious, my attraction toward her, but I’m sure
I do a crappy job, all of my emotions always being too obvious on my face.
I didn’t come here to get laid. I came here to see my buddy get married. I
shouldn’t be focused on this. I shouldn’t be worried if this woman is
attracted to me too, if she is single, if she would go find a hotel room with
me. I need to stop thinking with my cock, even though it is hardening in my
dress pants at the mere idea of bringing her into a hotel room and bending
her over the bed, desperate for both of us to be quick so no one notices we
are gone.
But of course, as I push those thoughts away, telling myself that it is all a
fantasy, that it probably won’t even happen in my wildest dreams. I feel the
movement of someone beside me, and when I spare a glance, of course, it’s
her. Her presence gives my fantasies a false sense of hope. I listen to her
order a drink from the bartender. Her voice is light, too fucking sexy to be
this close to me. She is a temptation just waiting to happen. If I was smart, I
would walk away, but I’m not. I keep my ass right where it is, enjoying
being close to her a little too much.
I glance over at her, her dark hair in a pretty hairstyle on her head, a few
stray pieces sneaking out, framing her face. My eyes connect with hers, just
for a second, before she looks away, glancing around the room as if she
wasn’t checking me out.
Holy shit.
I think I just caught her checking me out.
I feel my stomach somersault, and my nerves are shot. How do I even
start a conversation? I’m not used to dating, not like this. I live in a small
town, and most people know each other. This makes conversation easy. Of
course, I still go out and pick women up for a quick hookup. But here,
there’s this pressure. I know she is the maid of honor. I know she is
connected to Finn in a big way. If I make an ass of myself, he will hear
about it.
I search my brain. I am desperate for something to say. I desperately want
to start a conversation, but my mouth goes dry. Words aren’t able to form
even if I had them. The bartender sets her drink next to her, and she thanks
him, standing up from her seat. She gives me a quick glance with her
eyebrows raised and a challenging look in her eyes. She turns, intent on
walking away.
“You know Finn?” I blurt out without thinking. I didn’t know what else to
say. I panicked. I feel my cheeks redden, just barely, as I wait for her to
answer. I know this is what I was worried about. Here I am, making a fool
out of myself. I can’t even be mad at myself, though, because I see her give
me a soft smile. She walks back to her seat and positions her body close to
mine.
“Emma, actually,” she replies, her voice amused. I smile back. I am such
an idiot, but at the very least, I’m an idiot with her attention. So, I think I
can call that a win.
“Let me guess,” I say as I look her up and down. I love the excuse to
check her out without suspicion. “Her sister?” I ask, seeing similar small
details between the two: the shape of their faces, the way they look when
they smile, but their hair color is completely different. While Emma is a
fiery redhead, the woman in front of me has dark brown hair, making her
entire complexion look warm.
 “You got it. Although to be fair, people have asked if we are twins
before,” she says with a smirk. Her smirk really shouldn’t make my pants
tight, but it does.
“Avery, right?” I ask. My brain is finally working, and I remember Finn
talking about Emma’s sister a few times.
“You’ve heard about me?” she asks, a twinkle in her eyes. She is so
fucking pretty it isn’t even funny. Plus, the look in her eyes makes her look
fucking sexier than I care to admit.
“Only good things,” I say with a smile. I hope I am coming off
flirtatiously. I want to bring my A-game for the woman in front of me. I
want to impress her–probably more than I should. I should probably walk
away and leave her alone. Yet, as long as she is humoring me… as long as
she is paying attention to me… I can’t bring myself to leave.
“Okay, my turn,” she says, her eyes trailing my body, making my cock
jump at her attention. She doesn’t give any hint as to if she sees the bulge in
my pants, but part of me hopes she does. My skin feels hot under her gaze.
She does one more sweep up and down, lighting my body on fucking fire. I
should not have come here so horny. I don’t know how I’m supposed to
hold myself back when I have someone like her sitting in front of me,
mischief in her gaze.
“Take your time,” I say, my voice light, full of humor as her eyes sweep
over my body, not missing an inch.
“Shut up,” she replies, her eyes darting to mine, her cheeks staining pink.
“I was just doing thorough research,” she says matter-of-factly. My
confidence rises as I realize that I don’t believe her. I nod at her, my
eyebrows raised, as if she is full of shit, and we both know she is. “Anyway,
I’m going with… friend?” she says, a question in her voice.
“What? You don’t think I could pass as his brother?” I say, my hand
coming to my chest as I feign hurt. She laughs at me, instantly rolling her
eyes.
“I figured if you were his brother, I would’ve met you before. Plus, you
weren’t at the family table, Einstein,” she says, her logic sound and her
confidence extremely sexy.
“Maybe we are estranged. I’m the brother he is super jealous of,” I reply,
pausing for dramatic effect. “He would never admit that, though.” Avery
throws her head back laughing, which makes me smile. She looks at me
with adoration and humor, and I feel myself swell with pride. I am enjoying
the way I feel under her gaze.
“And what is he jealous of exactly?” she asks, her head cocking to the
side, egging me on. I shouldn’t like how she smiles at me with challenge
and encouragement glinting in her eyes. I shouldn’t like how it makes me
want to do whatever she says. I feel desperate to get her approval. I
shouldn’t even be talking to someone I know that I have zero chance with,
but here I am. I will soak up her attention as long as she’ll give it to me.
“C'mon, give me some amount of credit here. My good looks, obviously,”
I say, once again pretending like she is hurting my ego. She laughs again,
raising her eyebrows like I’m full of shit.
“Because he isn’t good-looking, right?” Her voice is light, filled with
honey. She looks at me like I hung the moon, and my jokes are the only
thing getting her through the night. God, I want it to be true. I want to bask
in that look for as long as humanly possible.
This honestly doesn’t happen to me, not like this. I’ve never been
interested in someone like this. I never hit it off with somebody right off the
bat. Usually, the women I’m interested in passes right by me on their way to
Finn. I guess it helps that her sister is married to him, but still, it feels
surreal to have the full attention of someone so attractive, especially
because she knows how amazing she looks in that fucking dress tonight.
Yet, here she is. She is still sitting right there, giving me all of her attention.
“You mean that troll over there?” I ask, throwing my thumb over my
shoulder, and pointing to one of my longest friends. I know that he is the
best-looking guy in the room. She rolls her eyes again. The smile on her
face captivates me. She pretends to consider for a second, and then she nods
as if she sees my point.
“You’re just a little cocky, huh?” she asks, her words going right to my
fucking pants. I have to force myself to hold back a groan. It is insane the
things she is doing to my body, even from the chair over. She isn’t even
touching me. I lean closer to her. I need to close some of the distance. I
need her to invade all of my senses. My knee bumps hers, her heat radiating
around me. My entire body is tuned into her. I feel my cock stiffening,
aching in my pants. The stupid thing is making it hard to concentrate on
anything other than her lips and how amazing they would look wrapped
around my cock while I beg for more.
 “Say that again,” I whisper. My voice is almost nonexistent, but I know
she hears me. I watch her body respond to me, too. Her spine stiffens. Her
lips part, and I soak it in, loving every subtle shift. I don’t think. I don’t
question my actions. I feel like I’m moving on instinct, desperate to hear
that singular word from her mouth again.
She looks me over with a smile on her face. She knows exactly what she
is doing to me. She knows exactly what kind of effect she is having on me
and probably loves it, if the smile on her face tells me anything.
“Cock-y,” she whispers with a smile, separating the word into two. She
stares at me with fucking sex eyes. Her tongue peeks out, wetting her
bottom lip before she bites it, looking at me with sin in her eyes, and God,
do I want to indulge. I hold back a groan, desperate to hear the word from
her mouth again, thinking of a million different positions I want her to say
that in, thinking of all the ways she could use her mouth against me.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath, our bodies moving closer to
each other. Her mouth is only a few inches from mine, and I want to break
the distance more than anything. I want her lips on mine, her lipstick
smudged against my skin. I want her body pressed against mine, her tits
pressed against my chest, and her legs wrapped around me. I want to show
her all the ways I can use this cock-y “attitude” I’ve got, but of course, of
fucking course, my eyes snag on the clock directly behind her. I see the
time, and I realize I’m already late.
“I-I… Fuck,” I mutter, turning away from her. I down my drink, not even
remembering when it was placed in front of me, turning it into more of a
shot than anything. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I gotta go,” I mutter, frustrated with
myself. I knew scheduling my flight so early was a bad idea, but it was the
only flight back home that was available within the next four days, and I
have a hundred work meetings on Monday that I can’t miss. Being a CFO is
great until moments like this when I’m leaving behind my fucking dream
woman at a bar.
“You’re leaving?” she asks, her eyes following my sudden movements,
her eyes wide. I soak her in for another second, kicking myself for not
indulging in a little vacation. Finn even offered. He ended up renting
everyone hotel rooms for the week so he could hang out with everyone
before he goes on his honeymoon with Emma, both of them flying across
the country for a few months. I wish I could have just let myself stay. I
already know a hundred ways I could use the extra time, most of them with
both me and Avery naked, but I know I need to leave. I don’t have time to
indulge in something as delicious as her right now.
“I have a flight I have to catch. I have to be back at the office on Monday,
and if I miss this fucking flight, I’m going to be ruined. I’m sorry,” I mutter,
looking at her desperately. I need her to understand. I feel like a complete
bastard and I know it is for good reason. I can’t believe I’m walking away
from this right now.
“No, it's fine. I should probably get back to the dance floor anyway
before Emma comes looking for me,” she says with a small smile, her
disappointment leaking through, just barely, just enough to make me kick
myself mentally one more time.
“Let me give you my number,” I offer as I rise from my chair. I know that
I needed to leave about five minutes ago if I were to have any chance to
make this flight, but there is no way I’m going to leave this beautiful
woman without giving her some way to contact me. I need some way to
make this a little better.
“Oh… yeah, sure,” she says, her voice weak, unconvinced.
“You don’t want it?” I ask frantically, desperate for her to take it. I
suddenly wonder if I misread this entire situation.
“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just… we probably don’t even live close enough
to each other for it to matter,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders, but
I’m not convinced. I did not just flirt my ass off with the person I have been
staring at since I first saw her to get fucked over by this goddamn flight.
“Please?” I ask, knowing I probably sound pathetic but not caring for a
fucking second. “It’ll make me feel better about leaving so suddenly,” I say,
going for pity if nothing else. We might never see each other again, but I
don’t want to leave this without at least trying to give my best.
I watch her eyes soften, and I know what she is going to say before she
even opens her mouth. “Okay, fine,” she says, “But I’m not promising to
use it,” she warns, but I don’t think about that. I just need to know I tried to
get this gorgeous woman to take my number, to give me the tiniest chance.
“That’s fine,” I say. I feel like I won, even though the odds are that she
isn’t going to call or want to talk to some random guy she met at her sister’s
wedding. I grab the nearest napkin, ask the bartender for a pen, and quickly
scribble my name and number on the thin piece of paper. I hand it to her
with a small smile, her face full of curiosity, interest, and just the hint of
disappointment. I turn away before I get any more ideas, like ditching work
to stay with Avery even just a minute longer.

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 Chapter 4

Avery

H e’s gone before I even have a chance to reply. The only proof that our
conversation actually happened is the napkin sitting in my hand with
his number scrawled on it, his handwriting messy.
I stare down at the napkin, letting my disappointment sink into my gut,
instantly ridiculing myself for even feeling this way. It’s honestly so
fucking stupid. I just met this man. I shouldn’t be disappointed that he has
to leave.
But in the back of my head, in the way way back, I feel the
disappointment, the ideas I had for tonight, of all the things I wanted us to
do, fading away. He looked at me with so much lust, so much sex in his
gaze. He would’ve been such a good lay, and it has been way too long for
me. I am pissed I didn’t get a chance to fuck him, for him to use his body
against mine, to pull noises from me, to fuck me good and hard, but now
I’m coming to terms with the fact that it isn’t going to happen, no matter
how turned on I am, how desperate I am.
 Emma and Finn are paying for hotel rooms for everyone for the week,
giving us all a luxury vacation after their wedding. I just assumed everyone
was staying, not wanting to give up the chance to miss out on a free
vacation like me, but I must have been mistaken, because the only man I
wanted to sleep with left in the middle of the after party.
Emma told me that she was flying people in from all over the country. I
guess Finn didn’t grow up in the city, so most of his childhood friends are
pretty far away from him. Based on what I know about this guy, I doubt we
live in the same time zone anyway, so having his number doesn’t mean shit.
We had one chance to fuck, and we lost it.
I push my disappointment down, still feeling like an idiot for even feeling
disappointment in the first place, and I order another drink. I stuff the
napkin in my purse while I wait for my drink, not wanting to look at it
anymore, not liking the reminder that I’m going to my room alone tonight
unless I find someone else who piques my interest like he did, which is
unlikely.
I shoot my drink back the second it touches down at the bar, desperate to
bring myself back to the moment. I drag myself back to the dance floor,
doing my best to convince myself to forget the entire conversation even
happened in the first place. It was probably stupid for me to think it was
going to go beyond the bar. I just liked the image of him in my hotel room,
half his body under the covers, his bare chest exposed to me, his eyes on me
and allowing them to consume me.
I feel my skin flush at the thought of his body at my disposal. I think
about all the things I want to do to him, all the places I want to lick,
desperate just for a taste, but I push the thoughts away instantly, feeling
foolish for even going that far with my imagination.
I dance with Emma for most of the night, intent on forgetting that
interaction ever even happened. The party ends, and Finn and Emma say
goodnight, heading to their hotel room with promises to see us all
tomorrow. I thank them for flying me out and paying for me to have a mini
beach vacation with them, too. I am overly grateful for their generosity.
Everyone starts to filter out of the party quickly, heading to their hotel
rooms, and I do the same, desperate to sleep off all of the booze I consumed
and finally rest my feet. I’ve been awake since early this morning, in the
bride suite tending to Emma’s every desire, and although I loved every
minute of it, it was fucking exhausting.
 I crash hard, falling into bed before I’ve even had a chance to wash my
face, but I don’t care. I’m too tired to give a shit. I’ll deal with the
consequences tomorrow.

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 Chapter 5

Avery

I wake up the next morning unable to think because of how hard my head
is fucking pounding. Overall, the hangover isn’t awful. Just a nasty
headache that makes me want to stay in bed all day, but I’ve been here
enough to know that I’ll feel better after a bottle of water and some food, so
I force myself to get up, desperate for anything that will relieve the
pounding taking place in my skull.
I force myself to open the curtains, the sun blinding me instantly, making
my headache that much worse. I grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge
in the room, not even allowing myself to look at the price, knowing it will
be insane, and grab some meds from my purse, desperate for some kind of
relief. I take them quickly, my eyes catching on the napkin poking out of
my purse, my mind flooding with memories instantly, making my stomach
churn. The flirting, the touching, the sexual energy, the whispering in my
goddamn ear, the way he made my entire body feel fucking alive, and then,
the sudden departure, leaving me unsatisfied in all the worst ways.
 It is easier to dismiss everything that I felt last night when the light of day
is gleaming in, sobering me up. I was probably imagining the connection,
the booze soaking into my bones, making everyone seem more attractive,
more attentive. I was looking for someone at the wedding, and I found
someone who checked a couple of boxes, but that doesn’t have to mean
anything. I do my best to convince myself I didn’t miss out on much, that
he wouldn’t have been that good in bed anyway. I do my best to push him
out of my mind, desperate to stop thinking about what could have been and
start enjoying the week-long vacation that Finn and Emma have set me up
with.
I put on a pair of sandals and a typical outfit for me: a pair of cotton
shorts and a strappy tank top, making me feel comfortable and cute at the
same time.
I make my way down to the lobby, checking several times that I have my
key, knowing that my brain isn't operating fully, and I would rather save
myself the embarrassment of dragging myself to the front desk to get a new
one.
“You look like shit,” a familiar voice says next to me, humor in her tone.
I turn to the side, making eye contact with my newlywed sister. Emma
looks like she just woke up from a perfect night's sleep, her entire body
radiating energy and youth, her red hair silky and curled, and her skin
glowing. I feel happiness swell in my belly, loving watching my sister
thrive, loving seeing her at her best.
She has always been pretty, her red hair a beautiful contrast to her light
skin, her dark eyes bringing her entire look together, but since she met Finn,
she has looked happy. She walks through the world like it was made for her,
and maybe it was. It gave her exactly what she wanted and then gave her a
little more, and I honestly couldn’t be happier for her. She deserves it.
“Don’t tell me you slept all night. That would be a pretty crappy wedding
night,” I mutter, looking at her with a smirk while we walk through the
lobby side by side as I try to find the breakfast area, insistent on finding a
cup of coffee and something to soak up the booze from last night. She
smiles at me mischievously, and I know I’m about to get a little too much
information about their wedding night. Talking about her sex life isn’t weird
for us, at least not anymore. When we were younger, neither of us wanted to
know about it. It was a don’t-ask-don't-tell situation, but as we got older,
she became less of my sister and more of my friend, and naturally, we just
started telling each other everything. But still, I have to look the man in the
eye. It was easier when she was telling me about meaningless hookups.
Now I see Finn at Christmas dinner and have to try to forget all of the nasty
things Emma has told me.
“You’d sleep pretty good too, after three orgasms,” she mutters, sending
me a wink. I pretend to shudder as if grossed out. She rolls her eyes and I
smile back, silently communicating with her in a way that makes me feel
particularly close to her.
“What are you up to today, Mrs. Declan?” I ask, glancing out the
windows of the lobby, wincing at the bright light but also yearning to feel
the sun on my skin, to tan and soak up all of its rays, letting them heal me
from the outside in–after I get rid of this goddamn headache, of course,
when the light is a little less blinding.
“Oh my god, don’t say that. He is still trying to convince me to take his
last name, and if he hears you say that he is never going to shut up about it,”
she mutters, looking around, checking to see if Finn is nearby. I just smile at
her and shake my head, enjoying how possessive Emma’s new husband is
of her. He knows it is old school for her to take his last name, but he just
likes to hear it, likes to think of her as his just as much as he thinks of
himself as hers.
“Isn’t that something you should have figured out before you tied the
knot?” I ask, laughing, knowing they have been going back and forth with
this for ages, neither of them wanting to give in and let the other have their
way. I understand it’s a big decision, but they have been discussing this for
months now.
“You would think. We filled out all the paperwork and kept my name the
same, but he keeps trying to convince me to just change it after. It seems
like too much of a hassle, but he loves the idea of me with his last name.
He’s acting like a caveman, and although it’s kinda hot, it’s annoying,” she
says with a smile and a roll of her eyes, her happiness so evident that I
smile too, her joy infectious, even though I still feel like roadkill. “Anyway,
I think we are going to the pool. I gotta at least attempt to tan since we are
here,” she says as we finally walk into the breakfast area, the smell of
pastries filling the air, my stomach grumbling the second it hits my nose.
The hotel is nice, nice enough to wow me. The entire thing is
complimentary, meaning every meal is free and served buffet style. I
figured it wouldn’t be anything special, but I couldn’t be more wrong.
There are about a hundred stations to pick from. Fresh fruit and warm
pastries and coffees with a hundred creams line the walls, and tables fill the
rest of the room, half of them occupied by people getting as much as they
can.
“Wanna meet at the pool once you are done eating?” Emma asks as she
looks at what I can only assume is my ravenous face, my hunger finally
hitting me, my body desperate for some nutrients after I drowned in enough
alcohol to last a lifetime.
“Yeah, that’s perfect,” I mutter, barely paying attention to her anymore. I
make my way over to almost every station, at least looking around, wanting
to familiarize myself with the choices since we have another week here, and
I’m going to make sure they get their money's worth. It’s the least I could
do.
I fill a plate full of food, pour a steaming cup of coffee, and have one of
the best breakfasts of my life, finally feeling like a person afterward.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter 6

Avery

I ’m drunk for the second day in a row, something I haven’t done since
college. Me and Emma are sitting under the sun, the sun that is going
down now, but we have been here all fucking day, soaking in the sun,
putting on layer after layer of SPF, desperate not to burn. We are drinking
fruity complimentary drinks and gossiping about literally everything,
soaking in every second together, because after this she will be gone for a
while, traveling around the world, living her best life. I can’t help but admit
that I’m going to fucking miss her, the alcohol making me feel sappier than
I have in a long time.
It has been nice just to be around her again. We see each other often. We
Facetime each other every other day, but it is nice to just be around her for
uninterrupted hours again, like when we were teenagers and lived together,
but now we aren’t bitches to each other.
“Okay, I need to go find my husband. Let’s hope he didn’t find his way to
bingo night. He takes his gambling a little too seriously sometimes,” Emma
mutters, finally getting up from her lounger and grabbing her drink and
towel off the table. I, honestly, can’t imagine Finn playing bingo. The
thought of it causes giggles to bubble out of me, and suddenly, I realize how
drunk I am, the alcohol making everything seem a little too funny. I raise
myself into a sitting position, my head instantly feeling light, the booze
hitting me a little harder than I first thought. “Goodnight. See you
tomorrow,” she yells behind her, already walking away from me.
The sun is low in the sky, hinting at the sunset, but I’m already exhausted.
The sun, the booze, and the swimming we did earlier have worn me out. I
stand up from my lounger, giving myself a second to find my balance
before I start gathering my things. It is easier to drink a few too many when
you are sitting down when you can’t tell how fucking dizzy you are. It isn’t
until you’re standing that you realize those lemon drops were probably a
bad idea, but when they are free, it’s so goddamn hard to say no.
I grab the rest of my stuff, intent on going back to my room and maybe
tucking into bed and watching TV, having a round with my vibrator, and
then sleeping for twelve hours straight. Even just the sound of that makes
my body hum, desperate for a quiet night in, and, for once in my life, relax.
I haven’t taken a vacation for so long, probably too long. I’m dedicated to
work, and I always have been, and that makes it hard to find time off. Add
that to the fact that I’m in digital marketing, a field that never seems to rest,
and I haven’t had a relaxing week in years.
It probably takes me longer than it should to find my room, the numbers
blurring in my vision, but I finally make it back, finally finding the correct
room. The warm feeling that was covering my body from all the booze and
the sun seems to evaporate in the silent and empty room. It suddenly feels a
little too quiet, a little too empty, and I feel my stomach churn as the door
clicks behind me. I walk over to the bed, stumbling into a sitting position,
my body swaying as the alcohol moves through me, and I try to keep
myself steady, but it doesn’t work well.
I’ve been single for a while, and I’ve gotten used to being alone. I’ve
come to enjoy it, enjoying my own company more than I would keeping
company with most other people, but every now and again, the loneliness
will hit me hard, making me wish I had someone to be with me when I want
it, instead of alone just being my default. I don’t wish for it often, but I do
in moments like this when I wish someone was here to take care of me, to
smile at me while I almost fall over, just happy to be around me, just happy
to have me in his arms. I want the comfort and stability of a relationship,
but anytime I think about going out and finding the real thing or think about
putting in that effort, it makes me want to throw up. I like the idea of it,
though.
I do like the fantasy. Especially when I’m drunk and horny as hell. I wish
I had someone to take care of me in a whole different kind of way.
My eyes dart to my purse, the napkin the stranger left for me, his number
scrawled on it, sitting right at the top, calling to me. I stare at it for just a
second, considering. I know it’s stupid. Nothing is going to come from it, so
using his number is a total waste of time for both of us in the long run, but
instead of listening to the rational voice inside of me, I walk toward my
purse. I scoop the napkin out and unfold it, reading the number in front of
me, debating with myself, my drunk voice telling me one thing while my
rational voice tells me something completely different.
I plop on the bed, weighing my options, both sides of myself fighting
against what to do. I stare at the napkin, and the numbers blur together, my
mind feeling fuzzy, my body feeling keyed up, a little too intrigued at the
idea of calling him, a little too tempted.
My drunk brain keeps whispering about how it doesn’t need to mean
anything, that even if it doesn’t go anywhere, we could use each other for a
good time. I’m not looking for a boyfriend right now. I’m looking for some
goddamn relief, someone to have fun with. That’s what he was supposed to
be last night, but he had a plane to catch. What is wrong with still having
fun with him with no other expectations? What’s wrong with having a little
help while I use my vibrator? What’s wrong with both of us finding relief in
each other?
Nothing. Nothing is wrong with that.
We don’t have to be with each other to use each other, to get better
orgasms out of the night. Sexting and phone sex aren’t as good as the real
thing. Everyone can admit that, but it would be better than solo, better than
doing it all myself.
I type the number into my phone with that thought in my brain, my body
already coming alive at the idea, at the possibility. The booze running
through me makes my skin warm, makes me feel light and breezy, carefree.
It makes me feel like I can do this: message him and ask for all the things I
want. Ask him to take care of this fucking ache between my legs and beg
him to make me feel good, make me forget that I’m alone in this hotel
room…about to fall asleep by myself.
 I’m horny, and I’m drunk, and I want someone to take care of me, make
me cum before I fall to sleep, and I need it to be him, not some stranger
down at the bar, because as much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s been on
my mind. My body remembers him, remembers how desperately I wanted
him to take me upstairs. It’s like an itch that I can’t scratch, and now I’m
determined to take care of it, right now.
My fingers hover over the message box for a moment, not knowing what
I want to say or how I want to get this started. My drunk brain misfires,
nothing coming to me, everything sounding stupid. I sit there for a few
seconds, my mind feeling blank, feeling a little stupid for putting this much
thought into my message to this stranger who I don’t even really know,
when I finally say fuck it, and type the first thing that comes to mind, not
caring how it sounds, not caring if it is too bold, my brain feeling too horny
to think, to care.
Well, maybe I care a little, but I continue to tell myself I don’t, hitting
send before I can second-guess myself anymore.
If you would have come up to my room, what would you have done?
I read the message back to myself, feeling bold, feeling empowered, and
a little bit nervous. I don’t know what time it is for him, so I don’t know if
he’s even gonna respond. This may have been a stupid idea, but the second I
start to doubt myself, I see the three dots, indicating that he is typing out a
response, and I let my body relax on my bed, desperate for some kind of
release, a release that only he can give me.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter 7

Reid

I stare at the message in front of me. My cock hardens at the mere thought
of what I wanted to do that night. I’ve been waiting to hear from her. I’ve
been desperate for her to want this as badly as I do. I am desperate to finish
what we started, and I had started to lose hope that she would use my
number, but the text stares back at me, confirming that maybe we are in this
crazy attraction together.
For the hundredth time, I curse at myself for needing to work on Monday,
for not giving myself the vacation I deserved. I could have been with her,
could have gotten her out of my system, but now I’m just desperate for her,
for that release we never got a chance to chase. It burns into my skin,
making me horny and uncomfortable, making me fidgety.
I lay back in my bed, knowing I should go to sleep, knowing I need to be
awake early in the morning, but not caring. My heart pounds as I start to
type out my reply, my gut already knowing where this is headed, already
knowing what is going to happen tonight, and the anticipation is like a
fucking drug.
 There were a lot of things I wanted to do to you, still do actually.
I hit send quickly, not wanting to second guess my reply, but when I see it
is delivered, I read it again, wincing at how lame it sounds. I don’t do this.
That is, stuff over the phone. Flirting and sexting from hundreds of miles
away. I have had sex with my fair share of women, but truthfully, this isn’t
something I’m experienced in. And, part of that, makes me nervous. My
phone pings with a reply, and my eyes dart down. I read it instantly, not
even having bothered to exit the text thread.
Like what?
I sit there, my fingers hovering over my phone, my hair a fucking mess
from the long day I’ve had. My body is naked, my cock hard, but my mind
stutters. I don’t know how to start this. I know what she wants. I know what
we both want, but I’m not sure how to get us there. My fingers move
aimlessly, my mind whirling. My nerves start to invade my senses as I push
myself to think. Once again, I type something quickly, not second-guessing
it. I then wince at it after it is delivered. I hate how bad I am at this.
Like kiss you
I stare at the screen, waiting and waiting and waiting for her to reply. The
message is instantly read, but she doesn’t start typing right away. I feel my
anxiety creep up my spine. My mind begins running away with it,
convincing me that I’ve already messed this up. I’ve screwed up, something
that hasn’t even started. Ugh. We haven’t even had a chance to explore
whatever this is. If I’ve already messed this up, it would be no one’s fault
but my own.
My phone buzzes in front of me and makes me jump. When I glance at it,
my body instinctively expects a text. I see a random number calling me. It
is the same random number I was just texting with. I hit the answer button
before I have a second to think. My hands are just moving on autopilot as
my brain stutters to keep up.
“Hello?” I ask hesitantly, not knowing what to expect.
“Hey,” she replies, her voice light, sexy over the phone.
“What’s up?” I ask, my brain blank, in straight panic mode. I’ve never
felt this out of my element, this lost when it comes to women, and it’s
throwing me off of my game. I’m not usually this bad, this clumsy, this
unsure of myself. I feel like I need to smack myself and get myself back on
track. I don’t dare pull the phone away from my ear. My body glued to her
voice instantly. I just didn’t expect her to call, to be on the phone speaking
with me all of a sudden, and I don’t know how to act.
“That’s what you consider dirty talk?” she asks, her voice light, mocking
me in a playful way, a way that makes me smile lightly, remembering
exactly why I liked her at the wedding, remembering how we clicked so
well.
“I–uh,” I pause, feeling a little more comfortable but still not knowing
what to say. I laugh lightly at myself as awkwardness fills me. I’m not used
to having someone so straightforward talking to me, someone so willing to
clear the air.
“Usually, when I’m trying to impress a woman, I have her in my bed,” I
say awkwardly, my mind instantly filling with images of her in my bed, my
body responding to the thought.
“Too bad you had a plane to catch,” she says, and I can imagine the way
her eyebrows rise in challenge, giving me shit.
“Trust me, I’ve been kicking myself since I left,” I reply and she laughs,
the sound making me smile. The sound of her laugh calms my anxiety.
“As you should be,” she says boldly, but her words slur, just barely, and it
makes me pause.
“Are you drunk?” I ask, sitting up a little straighter in my bed. My
comforter falls down as I do, exposing me to the cold air of my bedroom.
“Maybe,” she whispers, her voice so fucking sweet it hurts.
“Is that the only reason you called?” I ask, trying not to sound deflated.
“Because you’re drunk?”
“No,” she answers, putting me at ease. “It helped give me the courage to
text, but I’ve been thinking about you all day, wishing you were here to
finish what we started,” she murmurs. Her voice is like velvet through the
phone, and I feel myself react. My cock hardens. It aches in my boxers. It
begs to be touched.
“Well, I’m glad you called,” I reply. I give her just a hint of myself. I give
just a tiny bit of vulnerability to this woman who has been on my mind all
day, too.
“Are you?” she says flirtatiously, a smile in her voice, and I smile too.
“Yeah, part of me wondered if I’d ever hear from you,” I admit.
“I wondered the same thing,” she says softly. She pauses, like she is
thinking. I wait, feeling like she has more to say. “It’s messy, with you
being friends with Finn.”
 “It doesn’t have to be,” I reply lightly. I want to know how she is feeling.
It was so easy when we were at the bar together, in another world. It seemed
like nothing mattered then, like any mistake we might make would
disappear when we left, but now I'm home and that illusion is shattered.
Yet, still, I don’t want to get off the phone.
“That’s true. I could just use you instead of porn,” she says slightly with a
small laugh. I feel the air fucking leave my lungs.
“I have literally never thought of anything better,” I reply, my entire body
tuned into this conversation. I want nothing more than to be used by her. I
want her to find pleasure in me. The only problem is… I’m not used to this.
How do I do this? How do I pleasure her while being miles away from her?
I’ve never really had phone sex. I’ve never tried to have my voice be the
thing to get women off, but honestly, I’m not going to turn down anything
she is offering.
“What are you like in bed?” she asks, her voice low and relaxed. I
imagine her in her hotel bed, the blankets covering her, with the phone to
the side of her ear as she snuggles deeper, getting comfortable while talking
to me.
I’m thankful for the slight conversation change, wanting more of a lead-
in if this is where things are going. If we are going to use each other for
pleasure over the phone, then I need some time to get my bearings.
I think for a moment, trying to find the right words for what I’m like in
bed. “Dominant,” I reply hoarsely. My cock strains against the fabric of my
boxers, this entire conversation driving my blood pressure higher.
“Really? I have a dom on my hands, huh?” God, even the cadence of her
voice is driving me wild. She has this way of deepening it when she says
something sexy. She knows exactly how to change her pitch to make my
skin burn.
“I’m known to dabble in a little bit of everything, but I would say I like to
be in control,” I reply, trying to push away the distracting throbbing that is
happening under my boxers. I am trying to stay present in the conversation
and not sink into how badly I wish she was here, with me, letting me touch
her.
“I feel like I’m a little control freak too. I can never shut my brain off,”
she says lightly, a sigh in her voice, her annoyance with that aspect of
herself expressed by her words.
 “Maybe you just need someone to shut it off for you,” I say, my mind
whirling with all the ways I could do just that. There are so many ways I
could make her forget who she is, make her pleasure completely overpower
her.
“Maybe,” she says, her voice a fucking purr. Her voice is so sweet that it
isn’t fair that she is across the country, too far away from me right now. “Do
you think you could shut it off for me?” she asks, sinfully. Her intention is
so fucking clear.
“You’re dangerous,” I admit softly, my voice a little gravelly. I can feel
the pull to touch myself. I want to stroke myself to just the sound of her
voice, but I hold myself back, not fully knowing if I should. Is that allowed?
“What? Are you horny or something?” she says with mock innocence.
My eyes close as her words rush through me. God, she knows exactly what
she has been doing to me. She understands exactly how insane she is
driving me.
“I have a brat on my hands, don’t I?” Where there are brats, there are
punishments. We aren’t there, yet. We both know that. We don’t know each
other well enough to even pretend to play that game, but anticipation is a
powerful drug. I’m already imagining all the ways I could overcome her
with pleasure and all the ways I could use her body against her.
“I–I don’t really know,” she admits, her voice pulled back, just barely. I
wait and give her just a second to think. When her voice comes back strong
and confident again, I’m glad I did. “I’ve never really thought about it.
Usually, men just want me to do all the work. They want a blow job and
want me to be on top, and they just want to sit there and enjoy it,” she says,
almost thoughtfully, like she is just now realizing what has been missing
during sex for her. “Maybe you could help me find out,” she says, her
meaning so clear.
I want to so bad, but I’m not even sure where to start. I’m confident in the
bedroom, used to having women falling apart around me, used to doing
whatever I can to make a woman cum, but this is out of my wheelhouse,
and something about that makes me nervous. Nervousness is not a feeling
I’m used to having.
“About that,” I mutter, clearing my throat. “I’ve never really had phone
sex,” I say softly, a small wince taking over my face while I wait for her
reaction. I wait for her to make fun of me or make me feel bad for never
doing something like this.
 “Really?” she says, shock filling her voice. “That’s surprising. You talked
such a big game at the bar,” she says, and I can hear her smile.
“I do have a big game, but I expected to show you in person, not from
this many miles away,” I admit, my face feels hot, and I know it must be
reddening. I’m suddenly glad she isn’t here and can’t see me right now.
“Do you need me to teach you?” she says, her voice so fucking sexy, so
low. God, she’s good at this. “Do you need a lesson?” she asks, and I swear
to God I’m gonna lose it. Having her voice on the other end of the phone is
fucking torture. Not having her here is fucking torture. Not having my
hands on her or my lips on her skin is fucking torture.
“Yes,” I say roughly. “You can show me exactly what you like.” My
voice is hoarse, my cock stiff, and my blood boiling. The idea of her,
teaching me, coaching me through how to do something, turns me on. But
much more than that, she’d be teaching me what she likes, what turns her
on–my own masterclass on Avery.
“I usually just start with all the things I want to do, what I would do if I
was there with you, instead of miles away,” she teases. Her voice is slow
and indicates how well she knows what her words are doing to me.
“Usually, I start touching myself too, working myself up,” she says. Images
pop up in my head of her lying on her back as she touches herself while
thinking of fucking me. The thoughts overfill my brain and overload it with
visuals of her.
“Are you touching yourself right now?” I ask. I need for her to be
touching herself. I need the confirmation. The thought of her on the other
end of this phone, with her fingers against her clit, her pussy weeping for
me, makes me harder than I’ve been in so long. It makes me want to catch a
flight and take care of this, take care of her and her growing need, but I stay
still, my cock tenting the blankets. I wait for her to speak. I wait for the
confirmation that I should jerk off.
“Maybe,” she whispers, the tiniest fucking moan in her words. I curse
under my breath, pushing the blankets away. I pull my cock out of my
boxers instantly gripping it and hold back a moan myself.
“I’m gonna stroke my cock, while you tell me about the nasty things you
wanted me to do, okay?” I ask. I am surprised by my sudden, forceful need
for this. We have been playing back and forth for too long, and know I need
this release. I wanted it to be with her in person but over the phone will
have to do.
 “Yes, sir,” she says, the smile evident in her voice, and I feel my jaw
drop. My cock is so hard. It throbs in my hand.
“You’re a fucking vixen, aren’t you?” I ask, exacerbated. I feel like the
air was stripped from my lungs, ripped out by that one word. She shouldn’t
know what she just did to me, but based on her giggle across the phone, she
does. She knows exactly how much she influences me. “You got me
thinking you are sweet, but I think you are a siren in disguise,” I say on a
breath, stroking up and down. Wishing to God she was right here in front of
me, saying these things in my ear, whispering all of this while we watch
each other jerk off. I wish I was seeing her, watching her tits move with
each breath, watching her fingers stroke herself, watching the pleasure take
over her face the longer we went. God, I want it so much. Lust wraps
around my spine, taking me hostage.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says with a breath, and I
wish I could see how wet she is. I wish I could hear the wet sounds coming
from her pussy. She acts so innocent, but we both know it is a farce.
“Walk me through this whole phone sex thing, so I can hear you cum,” I
say, my voice fucking thick with arousal as I slowly stroke my cock,
moving my hand up and down the shaft, my entire body tensing as I try to
hold it together. Usually, I don’t have a hard time keeping myself from
cumming early, but listening to her on the other end of the phone, playing
with herself, breathy moans leaking from her mouth, so quiet, almost like
she doesn’t want me to know how much this is affecting her, is driving me
fucking wild. She is driving me fucking wild.
“I wanted you to come up to my hotel room, strip me bare, and eat me out
until I was cumming all over your face,” she murmurs, her voice alluring,
as if she doesn’t have the energy to be playful anymore, as if her body has
stolen that away and replaced it with this desire. I feel it, too, and I know
exactly what she is going through.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, my hand moving faster. “I would eat you out all
fucking night if you would let me,” I say, wanting that, wanting to feel her
against my face as she cums, her body tense against mine. I want it all, to
feel her wetness, to slide my tongue in between her slick pussy, and to open
her up for me alone, exposing her cunt to me.
“Fuck,” she moans out. “I don’t think I would be able to last long before I
would beg you to fuck me though.” She is driving me insane, her little
sounds, the static, as if she is wiggling around, unable to stay still while she
touches herself. “Even now, my pussy is fucking aching to be filled.”
“Fuck, you are doing so fucking good,” I moan out, my cock so hard in
my hand. It is so hard against my strokes, and I want nothing more than to
cum, to show her how much this is influencing me, to show her how keyed
up my body is, something I didn’t think she could do from so far away, but I
hold off, needing to hear her cum first, needing to hear how loud she gets
when she is finally close. “Tell me what you are doing right now. Tell me
how good it feels,” I say, then add, “Please,” I rush out, needing to know,
needing a visual to add to the sounds running through my phone.
“I’m playing with my pussy, my fingers stroking back and forth over my
clit. My back keeps fucking arching because it feels so good,” she moans,
and I feel my orgasm start, my entire body tuned into her words, but I slow
down, needing to hear this, needing to stay present with her. “I’m so
fucking wet, I’m drenching my fucking fingers,” she says, and I imagine it
all, her wetness running down to her ass as it drips out of her.
“Fuck, I wish I was there,” I mutter between clenched teeth as I try to
last. “Baby, I’m gonna cum soon. There is no way I'm gonna last much
longer with you like this,” I say, my voice a plea, desperate for her to be
there with me, to tell me that she is close too, that I’m not going through
this intense feeling alone.
“I’m close too,” she moans, her voice making my entire body tingle,
every nerve ending standing up, come alive.
“Fuck, I need to hear you cum,” I groan out, demanding. I need this. I
need this more than I need to breathe. My entire mind is swept up in this
moment, in this orgasm, in the sound of her voice through my phone. I can
think of nothing else. I can focus on nothing other than her. I need to hear
her finish. I need to hear her orgasm take her because I’m so close to doing
the same.
“Holy shit, I’m going to cum,” she rushes out, her words so breathy, so
desperate that my entire body feeds off them, eating them alive, hungry for
every sound out of her mouth.
“Yes,” I growl, my voice so rough. “Cum for me, let me listen to every
fucking noise you make,” I moan, and she does. She lets loose, her orgasm
ripping through her while she moans into the phone. The sound of her voice
fills the entirety of my room, and it sets mine off, forcing me over the edge,
too.
 I groan into the phone, needing her to hear that I’m right there with her,
that I feel the exact same, completely overtaken, completely consumed.
This wasn’t supposed to be this good. This was supposed to feel like
scratching an itch, but I may be addicted now because as my cock leaks
cum, my hand continues to stroke, and the only thought on my mind is that
I need to do this again, experience this again with her, because this was
better than half of the sex I’ve had, and she didn’t even freaking touch me.
We are both just breathing into the phone, that being the only sound in the
room. I stare down at the mess I made, knowing I should probably hop in
the shower before bed, something I wasn’t planning on doing before she
called me.
“Jesus Christ, I’m a fucking mess over here,” I mutter. I want to hear her
voice again. It already feels like it has been too long.
“Me too,” she says with a small laugh, and I smile against my phone,
wishing for the hundredth time that she was here, that this was a hookup
instead of phone sex because then I could hold her, could smell her hair,
wrap myself around her, and use her to ground myself.
I know I’m being soft. I know I’m thinking about this too much. But, for
me, hookups have never been just about sex. They are about connection,
even if it’s only for a night. I love cuddling afterward, holding the woman I
slept with, even if we both know it is going to end tomorrow. It isn’t about
something lasting forever, but I’m not just here for a quick physical release.
I’m here to feel something with another person, to feel close and intimate,
at least for a little while.
“If you were here, I’d carry you to the shower, clean both of us off, and
maybe start round two while I held you under the warm spray,” I say with a
smile in my voice. I feel that I’ve learned something, feeling as if I am
using her lessons and putting them to practice.
“Look at you, what a quick study,” she murmurs, her voice low. She
sounds sleepy like this has drained her.
“You should get to sleep,” I say, a yawn taking over. I’m tired too,
needing to be up for work early tomorrow, needing to do about a hundred
things, but I know I’m only going to be able to think about this, this night,
this orgasm, this woman.
“Yeah, I probably should,” she replies, her voice blissful.
“You should call me again tomorrow,” I say before I even have a chance
to think. I don’t second guess my words. I just go with my gut. I just go
with the fact that I know I’m gonna want this again: this ease and this
desire. This was more than I expected it to be, and if we lived in the same
city, I would say that we should just hook up, and become something to
each other, even if it was only fuck buddies. But she is too far away, and
even being fuck buddies feels like it’s off the table for us.
“I don’t want a relationship,” she says with what sounds like a grimace,
as if she hates giving me this news, turning me down.
“Who said I’m asking for a relationship?” I ask, wishing I could explain
myself. I also don’t have time for a relationship, much less with someone so
far away. This right here, this feels like something special, though, and I
think we would be stupid to walk away tonight. I don’t care if we stay fuck
buddies, people who call each other only when we want an orgasm and a
little bit of intimacy, but there is something here, something more than just
one night, and I know in my core, I want to explore it. “Think of it as a
vacation fling, just over the phone,” I say. I just want her to agree, to see
where I’m coming from, and for her to feel this too.
I listen to her think. The silence fills the speaker, and I can imagine her
biting her lip, thinking things through, and trying to figure out what the best
thing to do is. I wait, as patiently as I can, trying to give her the space. If
she says no, I’ll respect it. I’ll respect whatever she says because as much as
I enjoyed this, I know we can both find people that are closer…people who
are easier. On the other hand, I also know that I’ve found someone I
connect with sexually, and the idea of listening to her come apart every
night, her orgasm being the last thing I hear before I fall asleep, sounds like
fucking heaven.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she finally concedes, a small smile in her voice.
“But that’s all I’m promising. I don’t want a relationship in general, much
less with a man a plane ride away,” she says, her voice stern. “I don’t mind
the idea of another orgasm, though, especially if next time, you tell me all
the things you want to do,” she says, her voice getting breathy again, and
part of me wants to do it now, wants to use this mess I’ve made all over
myself as lube, and have both of us cum again, but I’m not going to push
my luck. I am not going to ask for more than I’ve already got.
“Works for me,” I reply, smiling, and we both hang up, with promises to
call tomorrow. I hop out of bed with a stupid fucking grin on my face. I
need a shower to clean myself up after one of the best orgasms I’ve had in a
while.
OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter 8

Avery

I wake up feeling more rested than I have in a long time. It eases my

anxiety about it all. I made the decision last night to continue this with
Reid, and I’m trying not to freak out about it. The orgasms are good for me.
I sleep better, feel better, when someone other than myself is giving me
orgasms, and that right there was enough to sway my decision.
I’m uneasy about starting anything long-term with anyone, especially
with someone long distance. I don’t want the lines to get blurred, making
this harder than it needs to be, but his proposal was too good to pass up. The
idea of having him on the phone every night while I’m here, helping me
cum, talking me through it, was too tempting.
There’s also this comfort with us, this ease. He’s across the country, not
right next door. There is so little risk, such a small chance that this goes
wrong. He’s connected to Finn, and that might make it complicated, but the
odds are, I won’t have to see him again, so going forward with this, making
it more of a thing than a one-off, doesn’t scare me as much as it probably
should.
 The day is relaxing, calm, but it drags on. The anticipation is killing me,
knowing that once I get to my room, once I settle in for the night, I’m
gonna have someone to talk to, someone to feel good with. I haven’t had
this in so long.
Things just feel different with him. Most men want me to do all the work,
and even though last night, I was the one putting in the effort, trying to
teach him how to have phone sex, he was right there with me, participating,
joining in whenever he could, taking an active role in what was happening.
I tuck in earlier than I should, and Emma gives me a confused look as I
rise from the lounger, stretching like I’m tired, putting on a show so that she
will believe me. She looks at me like she knows something else is going on
and knows I’m not just tired. I don’t explain though and just give her a
vague excuse, pack up quickly, and tuck and run, not wanting her to read it
all over my face. She knows me too well for me to lie, but if I can avoid her
questions, I can keep my secret as long as I need to.
I pull out my phone on the walk back, the sun setting as I leave the pool,
and instantly open the text thread between me and Reid, my fingers moving
quickly, my nipples already aching in my bikini top. Something about the
promise of sex, knowing it is coming, knowing all day, that it was just a
matter of time, has fried my nerves, and made my entire body stiff with
desire.
Call me, I’m fucking horny.
I type out the message and hit send, not second-guessing my words. I
want to keep things easy, for him to know exactly what I want, and what I
need. I don’t need to beat around the bush, pretending that I don’t want his
voice on the phone. I might not want a relationship, but I have no problem
asking for sexual pleasure, asking for someone to make me cum. I have no
problem putting my needs first, and I’m planning to for the rest of this
perfect vacation.
The phone rings while I’m in the elevator, and I hit accept right away, not
giving a moment to hold off, not wanting to play those games with him, not
caring if he knows I’m eager.
“Hello?” I ask, my voice light, breathy, my desire so transparent. Usually,
I’m not like this. Usually, I am the cool one, the one who doesn’t care, but
I’ve been thinking about this all day. My body is aching, and my mind is
whirling with all the ways this could go tonight. My desire is too high for
me to be cool, calm, or collected right now. I’m too horny for that.
 “You’re a forward one, aren’t you?” he asks. There is a smirk in his voice
which is so clear I can almost see it. I smile too, enjoying the flirty energy
between us. We have had chemistry from the start since our eyes locked in
that ballroom, since I saw him checking me out the first time.
“I just know what I want,” I murmur as the elevator door opens in front
of me, and I walk through, finding my room quickly, shoving the key card
in the door, watching the little light on the lock turn green, and I enter.
“And what is it that you want?” he asks, his voice like honey running
down my body. I’m too horny for this. I’m gonna embarrass myself. I’ve
been on edge all fucking day, waiting for this, needy for it. I feel like a high
schooler, desperate for a boy to even touch me. I hate and love it at the
same time. The excitement is euphoric, making my body feel alive, but I
hate giving this to him, this desire, this longing, and it makes me want to
see his own reaction more, to see how badly he wants this too.
“Oh no, I did that last night. Now it’s your turn tell me what you want,” I
purr, laying on my bed, leaving my bikini on for now.
“Oh, is that so?” he asks, his voice drawn out. God, he should not
influence me like this. He should not have this much control over my body
already, but I’m so fucking horny.
“Yes,” I say, my back against the comforter, my breathing coming out
faster than normal. I try to calm down, try not to show my cards, but I feel
like he knows just based on his voice, on the smugness radiating off of him
through the phone.
“Eager little thing tonight, huh?” he asks, a laugh stuck in his throat as he
tries to hold back. I squirm around a little, his words having an effect on
me, even if he isn’t trying. It’s a little degrading to be this horny, for him to
have this power over me, but it turns me on more, makes my body come
alive with lust, and makes my nipples harden in my tiny swimsuit,
desperate to be touched.
“I haven’t had regular sex in months…” I mumble, trying to explain my
way out of this feeling, trying to make it feel a little less embarrassing. “I
think my body is just excited to have orgasms multiple days in a row. Don’t
worry, it’ll go away in a few days,” I say, holding my cards close to my
chest, needing him to be reminded that this won’t last. My body is just
needy, desperate for a little release, and one night wasn’t enough. By the
time we are halfway through the week, I’ll be over this.
 “Sure,” he replies, a small smile in his voice, a desire there too, a
desperation that matches mine. “So, I’m supposed to lead this one then?” he
asks, his voice rough, gravelly. I feel my body respond, wanting this. I feel
the comforter behind me, the fabric against the back of my legs, against my
ass peeking out from my bikini bottoms. I feel my every nerve ending, and I
wish he was here to touch me.
“Yes, just tell me what you would do if you were here, how you would
touch me, how you would make me feel, how you’d make me cum,” I
murmur as I close my eyes against the light in the room, letting my body
feel everything a little deeper, stronger with one of my senses gone.
“If I was there right now…” he says, and some shuffling from the other
end comes through my speaker. I hope it’s him taking off his pants, him
getting naked for me, but I’m not a hundred percent sure. I don’t know what
he’s doing, if he’s touching himself yet, if he’s naked in bed with me in his
ear, or if he’s holding off, teasing himself, forcing himself to wait until he
hears me moan, hears me start to touch myself. That mystery makes my
entire body come alive, as I listen for any hint of what he is doing. “I would
start with kissing you, settling between your legs, and taking my time,” he
mutters, his voice low, sultry.
I make an encouraging sound, running my hand up and down my
stomach, teasing myself as he speaks to me as he breathes heavily into his
phone. I snake my hand down my stomach, my skin erupting into
goosebumps at the soft touch, and my head tips back, desire coursing
through me. I skim into the bottoms of my bikini, my fingers trailing over
the sensitive skin, but I hold off, needing this to last, needing to make this
pleasure go on for as long as I can. I finally dip farther down, bringing my
fingers to my clit, pressing down on the most sensitive part of my body, and
I feel pleasure wrap around me already, my body begging for more.
“I’d have you begging, have your writhing against me. Doing whatever
you can for me to touch you, but I wouldn’t. I’d just kiss you, just rub
against your tight little body until you were going crazy, your pussy fucking
dripping for me,” he says, his voice so deep, so fucking gravelly that it does
things to me. God, imagining him on the other end of this phone, stroking
his cock while I moan for him, pleasuring himself with only the sound of
my voice and the visual of me doing the exact same thing, makes me so
fucking hot.
 “Jesus Christ, you’re a quick study,” I mutter, rubbing small circles in my
clit, trying to hold off, trying not to get myself close too fast, but it’s hard
when my body has been primed for this, desperate for this. I haven’t had
enough orgasms lately, and now I have the sexiest man on the other end of
the phone, breathing heavily, moaning in my ear, and I can’t hold myself
back.
“I know how to dirty talk, baby, just didn’t know women enjoyed it so
much over the phone,” he mutters, groaning, his voice strained. “Tell me
how wet you are,” he demands, his voice hard. “Stretch that fucking cunt
around your fingers and tell me if you’re dripping onto your bedsheets yet.
Are you making a fucking mess in that goddamn hotel room?”
I think I literally whimper into the phone, my back arching off the bed.
This is too good. It’s like fucking audio porn, something I love. Having a
man on the other end, moaning so loudly for me, holding nothing back, is
like a drug, making my entire body fill with lust.
I do as he says, bringing my fingers down, regrettably leaving my clit,
and thrusting one inside of myself, feeling how drenched I am and how
needy this pussy is. I add another, needing to be filled, needing to pretend
that it’s him fucking me with his fingers.
“I’m really fucking wet,” I moan, my fingers fucking me, teasing my
body, my clit aching to my touched so I bring my palm down, grinding it
against myself, and the sensation is almost too much, almost too much
good, almost too much stretching, almost too much fucking, but it’s so
good, too good. “Are you jerking off?” I ask, needing to know, needing to
know exactly how he is feeling right now if this is as good for him as it is
for me.
“Baby,” he groans, and I feel my stomach fill with butterflies, the name
making my skin feel extra sensitive. I’ve never been one for pet names,
never wanted to be called something that is only for relationships, but
hearing it out of his mouth, hearing him groan out the word, is like a drug,
and I’m desperate for another hit. “I don’t think I could sit here with you
moaning like this and not stroke my cock.”
I mewl into the phone, desperation taking all of my senses, taking all of
my willpower, all of my self-control, and crushing it. I grind against my
palm mercilessly, not giving myself a second to stop, to think. I just do
whatever feels good, whatever brings me closer to the edge I am trying to
chase.
 I want this so badly, but the second that I cum, the second that this
pleasure is done, I know it will be time to get off the phone and go to bed,
so although I have never wanted anything more, never been more turned on
in my goddamn fucking life, I slow with desperation for this to last as long
as humanly possible, desperate for more and more and more.
“Don’t hold out on me now, baby,” he says, a small chuckle escaping
him. I hear the wet sounds of his cock, just barely as he strokes it, as he
glides his hand up and down his shaft, and wish like nothing more that I
could see him, that I was there, sitting beside him while he jerks off, giving
him a visual to put with this fantasy.
“I’m trying not to cum,” I breathe out, not knowing how much longer I’m
going to be able to hold myself off, how much longer I’m going to be able
to grind against my hand with my fingers inside of my cunt, with his
fucking voice on the other end and not cum, not give in to this intense
pleasure.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he rasps out like my words have affected him so
much, like he’s barely holding on, just like I am. “Fuck, I want to hear you
cum. I swear to god, I’m barely lasting as is. I need it,” he says through
gritted teeth, and it is almost enough to send me over the edge, but I hang
on. I’m not really sure why. Maybe pure stubbornness, maybe a desire for
him not to know how much he influences me, but I slow down, my back
arching off the bed as I try like hell to stop myself from cumming, to stop
the waves of pleasure from completely consuming me.
“Jesus. I said fucking cum, Avery. If I was there, you wouldn’t have a
fucking choice. I’d hold you down and force you to cum, taking your
orgasm all for myself,” he grits out, and that’s it, that’s all I can take. The
idea of him holding my body down as he forces me to cum, as he wrings
pleasure out of me, not giving me a second to breathe, not giving me a
break, just forcing me to cum, over and over and over again, sends me right
over the edge, into pure bliss.
I hear him at the edge of my senses, encouraging me, praising me as he
listens to my noises taking over the hotel room, coming out of me without
my consent. I don’t have any choice, my body is just responding, pulsing
around my fingers as I grind into my palm, desperate to soak up as much of
this as I can.
“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he praises as I slowly start to come down,
as I slowly start to come back to myself. He moans into the phone, and I
whimper, my body starting to get overstimulated, my movements starting to
be too much. “Don’t stop, Avery. You don’t get to stop until I cum, and I’m
not fucking there yet,” he groans out, and I keep moving, my body literally
jerking against my hand, overstimulation running through me, but I don’t
even think about stopping, don’t even think about cutting this short.
I push through it, slowing and going softer, but never stopping, listening
to his words, listening to him praise me as he curses through his jerking, as
I listen to wet sounds of his hand stroking his cock on the other end of the
line, and I imagine what would happen if I was there, imagine all the ways
he would have me on my back, cumming on his cock, cumming on his face,
cumming on his fingers.
Slowly, so fucking slowly, my pleasure starts again, starting at the base of
my spine and starting to grow. I’ve never been one to cum twice, usually
satisfied with one orgasm, and no one has ever gone for multiple, never
tried to do more than they needed, but as I start to moan again, I hear Reid
groan too, listening to me pleasure myself again, listen to me build up
again, my orgasm already too close after I just came, after my back arched
off the goddamn bed, holding me hostage to the pleasure.
“God, you sound so fucking good, Avery,” he groans out, his voice deep,
and I imagine him desperate for release, right on the edge, his cock leaking
pre-cum, but keeping himself there, wanting me to get there with him again,
wanting me to cum with him. I set the phone beside my head, putting it on
speaker, bringing my hand to my bikini top, moving it aside quickly, feeling
my tits in my hand, feeling my hard nipples against my palm, pinching,
tugging, desperate for more.
“Jesus Christ, I might cum again,” I mutter, wanting to see if my theory is
correct, if he wants me to cum again, if he gets off on my pleasure, gets off
on knowing that I’m enjoying this. I hear his movements slow, as if he is
holding himself back, and he curses into his phone, the sound running down
my body like he is here, touching me.
“Yes, cum again. Oh my god, cum again. I need to hear it,” he mumbles,
his words starting to lose meaning as my pussy starts to clench, my body
tensing every single muscle. I come alive under his voice, my pleasure
building quicker than it should, quicker than it ever has, finding pleasure in
him, in his voice, in his desperation. “I need you to cum again. I need to
fucking hear it,” he groans, his voice so breathy, so desperate. The hint of
him begging makes me fucking gush, my fingers wet with my arousal. I
love that sound, the sound of bringing a powerful man to his knees, making
him desperate for me.
I lean into his words, not thinking, not giving myself a moment to second
guess, to wonder if another orgasm is even possible. I just listen to him,
letting my body do its job, and I feel myself start to cum, my entire body
tense, my back bowing off the bed, and I moan into the phone, unable to
stop myself, unable to take a breath, the pleasure being too all-consuming.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Avery,” Reid groans, his sounds the only thing
registering as I desperately try to come back down to earth, as my pleasure
starts to ebb. I try to catch my breath, my chest moving violently, my legs
still shaking, my entire body stiff from tensing every single one of my
muscles.
“Oh fuck, I’m cumming,” Reid groans into the phone. “Holy fuck.” I can
hear the exact second his load shoots from his cock, his sounds being a
play-by-play of what is happening, his groans becoming stronger as he
comes apart. I wish I was there, wish I was on the receiving end of his cum,
wish I was watching his face, looking into his eyes as he orgasms, as bliss
takes him over.
We don’t speak for a few seconds, both of us just catching our breath. I
stare at the ceiling, my brain barely even working. I barely even feel like a
person, but one thought keeps bouncing around in my head, and I wonder if
he has the same thought as me, that I can’t believe how good that was, can’t
believe how this phone sex is better than the sex I’ve had with most of my
past partners. I can’t believe how hard I came, and I wonder if he feels this
too, this chemistry, this desperation for more. I’ve just came twice, both
harder than most of my orgasms, and I want more, want more of this, want
more pleasure, which is something I shouldn’t even be capable of anymore,
but it feels like he just unleashed something inside of me, this desperate
need, this desire that has been unbottled, and now it’s overflowing, begging
for more.
“Fuck,” he said, a smile in his voice. He rustles around, moving on the
other end of the phone, and then seems to settle back into bed, the line silent
for a few seconds.
My brain starts to work again, my body starting to really come back to
itself. A question nags at the back of my head, something that has bugged
me since he said it, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to ask, if I wanted the
answer to my question. Yet, after that orgasm, after what happened between
us, it feels like I could ask him anything, feels like a sort of trust has built
up around us, and during my post orgasm haze, I feel bold. I feel like
anything I say doesn’t count right now, doesn’t count while we are still
catching our breath.
“Why did you ask if I was a brat yesterday?” I ask, breaking the
comfortable silence, my question being the only sound on the line for a few
seconds. I wonder if my question is going to make this awkward, going to
make this delicate thing between us break, if the sudden peace I’ve been
able to find in him and the phone sex will poof away, leaving me a horny
mess in its absence.
“Usually, I have a radar for those kinds of things,” he says, his voice
hesitant, as if he knows this is more than just a simple question. “I’m
usually right, though,” he says, a lightness to his tone, as if he knows me
better than I know myself, but he isn’t sure how I’m going to take it.
Honestly, maybe he does have me figured out more than I do because
I’ve never even considered something like that. I’ve slept with so many
men who want me to do the work, who want me to suck their cock, ride
them, make them cum over and over and over again, pleasing them in ways
they couldn’t even begin to please me. They made me cum, made sure that I
finished, but it was always me doing so much work, calling the shots. I
haven’t thought about doing anything else or what it would feel like to give
up control, to let someone else into the driver's seat and see where we end
up.
“So you still think I’m a brat,” I ask, my voice giving my smile away as
curiosity replaces my anxiety. If there is a person who I could experiment
with and try something like that, it would be him. I shift on the bed, sitting
up, putting my bikini back together so I’m not just sitting here naked. I pull
the covers away, settling under them, and getting comfortable.
“I can’t tell you what you are. Only you know that, but you give the
energy of a brat, at least in my opinion.” His answer only causes more
questions inside of me, only stokes the curiosity that is brewing.
“And what is a brat by your definition?” I ask, my interest piqued.
“Someone who wants to be dominated, wants to be told what to do but
likes to fight it. Usually, brats don’t just comply. They like to fight a little,”
he says, his voice moving down an octave, and I feel the shift between us,
this calm shifting into energy, into electricity.
 “Isn’t that annoying? Doesn’t a dom want to tell them what to do?” I ask,
licking my lips, suddenly parched, my entire body on edge. I can feel my
nipples starting to harden, my body starting to come back alive, even after
the orgasms. I don’t know how he does this, has me so on edge at all times,
ready for pleasure.
“Usually a little bit of fight means a lot of punishment. It’s not the same
for everyone. Everyone likes something different, but I love giving out
punishments, making someone submit, getting them to finally give me all
the control, even though I know they are hesitant,” he admits, and I want to
touch myself, want to please myself as we talk about this, want to try to be
quiet, so he can’t hear me, but I want a moan to slip, letting him know
exactly what I’m doing.
I push that urge down, though, trying to stay focused, trying not to let my
horny brain take over.
“Why do you like that?” I ask, my voice so fucking breathy, giving away
every ounce of my desire. Reid groans lightly, moving the sound into
clearing his throat, like he knows how much this conversation is influencing
me, how turned on my body is, but he keeps talking, keeps answering my
questions like we both don’t know how much this is turning me on.
“It’s a level of trust, I think. Giving your power to someone, letting them
make all the decisions, there’s this huge level of vulnerability. It requires
trust that you know them, know what they like, what they need,” he says
the last word low, almost on a growl, and I hold back my own moan,
wanting nothing more than to have him know exactly what I need and have
him give it to me, taking every ounce of thought from my head.
“That’s interesting,” I reply softly, my brain not working fast enough to
come up with another good question. I’m too consumed in the lust, in the
idea of him being here, telling me exactly what to do, tying me up, using
my body exactly how he wants, pleasuring me as much as he can, giving
me everything I have ever wanted, everything I have ever needed.
“God, your pussy is so fucking needy, isn’t it?” he asks, his words barely
registering before my eyebrows shoot up, my entire body shocked by his
words. I bite my lip, trying to keep my reaction, trying to keep how hot his
words are to myself, but it’s hard when he’s right there, when he can hear
my breath, can hear every intake of air into my lungs. “Two orgasms wasn’t
enough for you?” he chides. “That’s okay, baby. Play with your greedy
pussy. I’ll stay on the phone until you’re satisfied,” he says, his voice so
low again, and I gulp, my pussy literally throbbing, literally begging him
for it, desperate for him to hear me while I cum for the third time.
“I–I,” I stumble, not even knowing how to reply. This feels so different
than when I was teaching him, like a new man is on the phone with me, not
the same man that was there yesterday, and I have to admit, I’m so much
hornier for this guy, so much more desperate for him. “I already came
twice,” I respond, not fully knowing why that matters, but it seems too
much for me to want to cum again, for me to be this desperate for more
pleasure. It feels selfish to want more, to want him to sit here while I cum
again, even though I know that’s irrational, stupid even, thinking he
wouldn’t enjoy it just as much as I would.
“Avery,” he says sternly, like a command in and of itself, and I squeeze
my thighs together, licking my lips again. I wish he could see me, wish he
knew how insane he is driving me. “Is your pussy dripping on the sheets
right now?” he asks, his voice condescending, like he already knows the
answer, already knows exactly what I’m going to say.
And the answer, of course, is yes. I’m so horny. Hornier than I have ever
been, and I just came twice, once more than I usually, do, and yet I’m
fucking aching for a third. I can’t imagine not cumming again, not giving
myself this, but anxiety pricks in the back of my mind, keeping me from
touching myself, keeping me from pleasing myself.
“I’ve already kept you on the phone for too long. You should probably go
to bed. I’ll just take care of this myself," I mutter, not knowing where this is
coming from, not knowing why the idea that he wants this, wants to listen
to me cum is so insane to me.
“Avery, I wasn’t asking. I’m literally leaking pre-cum all over myself.
I’m making such a fucking mess for you, and you aren’t even here to clean
it up, so the least you could do is cum for me again,” he groans out. It
sounds as though his teeth are clenched. I feel my eyebrows shoot up, his
words doing nasty things to me, making my entire body feel like a live
wire, desperate for more, and I finally give in, giving myself more, giving
myself exactly what I need.
I bring my hand back down under my bikini and start rubbing my
throbbing clit, needing more, needing his words to be true, needing to be
able to put my trust in him that he wants this just as badly as I do.
“Holy fuck,” I moan out, my body firing, every single one of my cells
screaming for more, screaming for an orgasm. I can’t believe how good this
feels, how intense this pleasure is. Hearing Reid's voice on the other end
helps quite a bit, hearing his praise, his own moans, his hand fucking his
cock again, the wet sounds radiating through my phone, my back arching
off the bed, and I get closer and closer to orgasm.
I would think it would take longer to cum after two orgasms, after getting
what I thought was my fill, but Reid guides me through it, talking to me,
moaning for me, telling me that I’m doing such a good job, telling me how
much he wishes he was here to be the one who is pleasuring me. It only
takes a few minutes of playing with my clit until I’m right on the fucking
edge, seconds away from falling over it again.
I wait, though, for what I’m not sure, but I hold off, keeping myself from
cumming.
“I’m so fucking close,” I whine, my entire body begging for it, trying to
push me over the edge, trying to get me to cum. Still, I hold myself off,
teasing the fuck out of myself, wanting his permission, wanting him to tell
me what to do, take the thought away from me, and take every ounce of
control that I am offering.
“God, baby, fucking cum already, you’re driving me insane.” His words
register in my mind, his confirmation, and I feel myself fall off the edge,
my vision going hazy as pleasure wraps around me. It’s so powerful, so all-
consuming, that I can’t even think for a second, can’t even pretend to be
present on this earth. I know I’m moaning, know I’m making noise, but it
doesn’t feel like me, doesn’t feel like I’m even inside of my own body, but
when I finally start to resurface, finally start to come back to earth, my
voice feels a little raw, my throat a little dry, and I know all that noise was
me.
“You are fucking dangerous, you know that?” he asks, and I blink out of
my haze, blink away the lust washing through me. That was a whole new
experience, a whole new kind of orgasm. I was so turned on, so horny that it
wasn’t even something I had experienced before.
“You are the one that just made me cum harder than I ever have. I think
you might be the dangerous one,” I retort, breathless. I suck in air, desperate
for it, as if I was deprived for hours, and I’m finally getting a taste again.
“God, I wish I was there,” he moans out, his voice desperate, longing, a
hint of something deeper, a hint of something close to adoration. I don’t
look too hard at that, though, not wanting to see something I’m not ready
for.
 “Me too,” I say with a yawn, my body completely wrung out, every nerve
cell drained, desperate to sleep after three orgasms. I’m not used to
cumming so many times, not used to taking every ounce of pleasure that I
can, of using my body so thoroughly, but I love the weightlessness to my
bones, the calm running through me, making it feels so easy to sink into
sleep.
“Get some sleep. I’ll call again tomorrow,” Reid says, yawning himself as
if he is just realizing what time it is.
“You are the one who needs to get up for work tomorrow,” I say, my eyes
closing, the desire to just sink into my blankets is overpowering me,
overpowering my desire to put on pajamas and brush my teeth before sleep.
I just want to let go, let this feeling overtake me, and become one with the
bed.
“I may be tired tomorrow, but it was worth it to hear you cum three
times,” he groans out, and I feel myself start to sink, not even having the
energy to reply, to explain to him how fucking good this was, how much I
want to do this again, how much this scares me, this chemistry we have.
“Get some sleep,” he says, but he feels far away, and I know sleep already
has me, so I let myself sink, not hearing the beep of the call ending, not
knowing if he hung up, but weirdly enjoying the idea that he is still right
there, waiting for me on the other line.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter 9

Reid

I stayed on the phone too late last night, just listening to Avery's soft
snoring sound. I listened to her roll around every now and again,
imagining that we were there together, that I was in her bed.
I should have just hung up right away. I’m sure she wouldn’t enjoy the
fact that I stayed on like a teenager. I just wanted to soak up a few more
minutes with her. She has made it clear what she wants. This isn’t going to
go any farther than a fling. I’m doing my best to respect that, but it’s hard
when I want nothing more than to convince her to fly here. I want her to let
me use her body. I want to spend time with her between my sheets and then,
spend time getting to know her. I want to learn all about her and all the
things that make her tick.
It’s not even just about the sex. I mean, that part is great, and would
probably be better if we didn’t have distance in our way, but it’s so much
more than that. She keeps surprising me. She keeps giving me a level of
trust that I’m not sure I deserve. She is funny and so fucking sexy. I find
myself wanting to stay on the phone with her for just a few extra minutes,
enjoying every second I can.
But she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want to figure out if this thing
between us could ever be more. I need to be better at respecting that. I need
to be okay with just having a week of her on the other end of the phone and
nothing more.
Work goes by slowly for most of the day. I barely make it to lunchtime
with my eyes open, handling about a hundred meetings and reviewing our
quarter financials. They all seem more pointless when I’m exhausted. It all
feels like just another way to waste company time. I push through them,
needing to get through this day and nap before I’m on the phone again
tonight.
A little after lunch, I’m sitting at my desk, wondering if I really need to
be here or if this wouldn’t be a good day to just go home early and get some
extra sleep. My phone vibrates with a text. All of my clients and my
assistant, have my number so when the vibration moves through the room, I
hold back a groan. I don’t have the energy to deal with another person right
now.
But when I look down, I’m pleasantly surprised. Avery’s name lights up
my phone. I feel myself smile. But I try to stifle it and try to convince
myself that I didn’t show any emotion over her message. I’ve never been
really good at hiding how I feel, though.
Is it bad that I woke up horny, even after last night?
This time, I do groan. My self-control is melting in front of me, making
the idea of doing more work or actually being productive even less
appealing.
Avery is more than I bargained for. I mean that in the best fucking way
possible. When we first talked at the bar, I thought she would be a good
time, a one-night thing to scratch the itch that has been bugging me for the
last few months.
I want a relationship. I always have. I’m not one of those men who hate
commitment or don’t know how to settle with one woman. To me, that idea
sounds like heaven, having someone to come home to, to go to for support,
to lean on, and to lean on me. Relationships mean a comfort, desire, and
trust that isn’t like anything else. So I want a relationship. Yet, even I wasn’t
considering that when I met Avery. I just wanted to see where the night
would take us. Now though, I can feel myself getting more and more
fucked. I’m getting more and more attached.
She is insatiable. She’s so fucking horny, so desperate anytime I tell her
what to do. I think she just doesn’t know that she’s kinky. It feels like
something she has yet to explore. The fact that she is doing it with me,
giving me her trust, speaks volumes and makes me like her just a little
more.
Not even a little. In fact, you’re making my day about a hundred times
harder now that I know that information.
I type out the message and hit send. I put my phone off to the side,
planning on actually getting some work done, intent on going home a little
early today. Then, my phone pings with a response. I can’t help myself. I
pick it back up and read her message like a fiend.
I have another lesson for you…
I stare at the message for a second. I’m not sure what she is getting at.
Another message pops up. This one a photo. I feel my eyebrows raise, my
entire body tensing as I stare at the image of her tits. Her bikini is just
barely pulled off to the side, so her nipples peek out. She is grabbing one of
them, pinching her nipple between her fingers, and I groan lightly, thinking
about her in bed, in a hotel room, playing with herself while I’m stuck all
the way over here. Another message pops up, moving the picture higher,
taking a fourth of the image away from me.
Photos make everything a little more interesting ;) send me something
back so I can make myself cum? I can’t wait until tonight.
I bring my hand up and run it down my face, trying like hell to keep
ahold of my self-control. It is not a good idea to send her a picture from my
office or to sext her while I’m at work. Yet, the desire to please her, for her
cum while looking at my cock, looking at only images of me, is consuming.
It makes all of my capability for rational thought fly out the window.
God, you know last night when I called you dangerous? This is what I
meant.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter 10

Avery

T hemylonger I talk to Reid, the slower the days go. I seem to be planning
entire day waiting for night, trying to get myself in bed as soon as
possible without raising suspicion. My sister knows me too well, and I’m
shocked she hasn’t figured out I’m hooking up with someone yet. I want to
tell her, want to give her every juicy detail, but I’m not sure if I’m ready
yet. She knows him, knows what I’m getting into more than I do, and I hate
that. I don’t want her opinions, don’t want her commentary before I’ve even
had a chance to figure out what this is myself, to figure out exactly what I
want from it.
The sun finally sets, finally dips below the line, leaving the pool in
darkness, the sun taking my hope of a tan with it. I have been in the sun
more this week than I have in the past five years, and although I have
almost gone through an entire bottle of sunscreen, I’ve been enjoying it
more than I care to admit. Getting away from the city, around some of the
bloodsuckers that live there, has been peaceful, a little too much so.
 I can feel myself getting comfortable. The days spent in the sun with my
sister, the nights spent with Reid. It’s just all so easy, such a nice existence
and a part of me hates it, hate how easy it is for me to sink into. This won’t
last, won’t stay forever, and when I have to go back to work, I know I’m
gonna miss the hell out of this.
I sigh, feeling off-kilter, weirdly feeling like I’ve lost the balance in my
life. I have worked so hard to make a life for myself, so hard to push myself
to be something, to be all of the success I could ever need. This was my one
break, one time in my life I was going to take a breath. I thought it would
make me feel better, make me feel excited to get back to work, get back to
my cozy life, but all it does is fill me with dread, the idea that this isn’t my
life, that this can’t go on forever. I want time to stop, leaving me here,
letting me live here forever.
I keep such a handle on my life, trying my best to do everything I’m
supposed to, keeping myself out of distractions, but all of these distractions,
the drinking, the tanning, the phone sex, have made my life outside of this,
feel dull, giving me a sense of uncertainty.
I know life can’t always be like this, fun and drinks and sex, but as I’m
leaving the pool, I feel a sense of happiness I haven’t had before, having
experienced. I feel calm, at peace, like my life is starting to click together,
and as much as I’m enjoying myself, it just makes me realize that it wasn’t
clicked together before, wasn’t where I needed to be.
I hate how everything has changed in the matter of a few days, made my
old life seem boring and bleak, but I know the best way to distract myself,
know the best way to forget all about this, to lose all control. At least, I’m
starting to know it, starting to learn how to give control to Reid. I want that
now, to stop thinking, to stop considering all the ways my life is going
wrong, all the ways I wish things were different. I want to forget, want to
lose every thought inside of my head, and I know he is the perfect person
for that.
I make my way up to my room quickly, needing the distraction, needing
something to ground me more than I expected. I have never felt like this,
felt so uneasy about my life, and although maybe I should look closer at the
feeling, it’s too overwhelming, too much for me to handle, and the idea of
being distracted, of having a man distract me while making me cum, is just
too tempting.
 My phone is ringing as soon as I close the door. I am a few minutes
earlier than we had planned. After our midmorning nude sending, which led
to me cumming and him having to hold back since he was at work. We
agreed on a time, setting a date. It made my resolve slip, my determination
to keep this casual, to keep feelings out of the equation. The idea of setting
a time, of having consistent plans with someone made me smile, made me
giddy, but I’m sure it’s just the multiple orgasms, just having someone to
rely on to pleasure me when I need it most.
“You’re early,” Reid’s voice vibrates through the phone. I smile lightly as
the door clicks shut behind me, and I make my way over to my bed, feeling
like a schoolgirl on the phone with her crush. I plop down on the bed, my
nerves running wild, making my body feel all jittery.
“I call it punctual,” I say with a small laugh, loving and hating that he has
me found out, that he called me out on wanting to talk to him a little bit
early. He has done it in such a funny way that it makes me feel like he
almost enjoys it, enjoys that I want to talk to him, enjoys that I called early,
like he was waiting for me.
“I call it horny. You got a taste, and now you can’t stay away, huh?” he
asks, and I feel my cheeks heat, suddenly happy that he is hundreds of miles
away because his words have a level of truth, an undeniable level of
honesty.
“I don’t know if I would go that far,” I retort. “You seemed to enjoy my
pictures today, though. And let's be honest, you picked up the phone. You
must be a little horny too,” I say, needing to take the attention off of me and
how much I’m enjoying this, having someone to end my night with.
“Guilty,” he answers, his voice light, but what he is saying feels so
strong. I know it shouldn’t, but it does. We are saying that we wanted to talk
to each other, that we were both waiting, desperate for the other, and it feels
oddly intimate.
“So I was thinking we could try something new,” Reid says, breaking the
silence, bringing us back on track for the entire reason I called.
“What’s that?” I ask, clearing my throat, trying to get my mind back in
the place we both want it to be.
“I was reading up on it a little bit, and a lot of people do like a guided
thing, where they tell their partner exactly what to do. So I was thinking we
could try that,” he says softly, with a confident undertone, like he isn’t sure
how I’m going to respond but wants me to know that he wants this. I try to
process his thoughts, but my mind catches on his first words, not letting
them go.
“Wait… You’ve been reading up on what?” I ask, not fully understanding,
convinced that he can’t mean what I think he does.
“Phone sex,” he says as if it is simple, as if it means nothing, but instead,
I find it so fucking endearing.
“You were reading up on phone sex?” I ask, completely dumbfounded,
shocked that he would go to such lengths. “Why?” I finally ask, wanting
more, trying not to make assumptions, wanting to hear it from him, why he
would do something so thoughtful.
“Because I want it to be the best it can be…” he says, and then after a few
seconds, he adds, “For you,” he says this part quietly, his voice still so deep
like this conversation is turning him on while it’s spinning my goddamn
head in a circle.
“That is… so fucking sweet, actually?” I say, but it sounds like a
question, the end of my sentence lifting in tone and volume, my voice a
squeak against my ears. I sit there for a second, the silence taking over,
while I think of this extremely handsome man, across the country, who
could probably be having actual sex with other people, finding his pleasure
in someone else. Instead, he is looking up phone sex, trying to perfect his
technique for me. Someone he has only met once, for someone that
shouldn’t be anything to him… yet, I seem to be.
I don’t know why this hits me so hard. I don’t know why this makes my
chest hurt, because it is simple. He didn’t make some big grand gesture,
didn’t do something that took hours of his time, but it has a level of
thoughtfulness that I didn’t expect from him, from someone I have been
labeling as a vacation fling in my head. I have been so adamant that he can’t
be anything else. He can’t mean more to me than this, but God, he is slowly
finding a place in my life, inserting himself where I need him most, and it
makes me uneasy while also giving me butterflies.
This is more effort than a majority of my boyfriends have put in, more
effort into my enjoyment, into my pleasure. Usually, they just rub my clit
and hope I cum, deciding that it is my fault if I don't because they did their
best. For Reid, someone who I don’t even plan on talking to after a few
more days, to go to the effort to find the best ways to make me cum, the
best ways to make this experience better, hits me more than it should, more
than I want it to.
 “I wasn’t really going for sweet,” he says, his voice a low hum, humor
radiating through him. “Extremely sexy, mind-numbingly hot, maybe,” he
says, and I smile into my phone, feeling close to him, feeling like he is right
here, in this room with me, more present with me than anyone else has
been, closer to me than I’ve felt with anyone else before.
“It was also mind-numbingly hot,” I say lightly, smiling like a fucking
idiot, trying to get myself to stop but failing. I give myself this moment,
intent on going back to my resolve tomorrow, going back to this being just a
fling when the sun rises. For now, I’m going to soak this up and enjoy it,
because I don’t have any other choice. It’s too good to let go of.
“Good, that’s what I was going for,” he mutters, his voice so sexy, so
intimate. “So, what do you think? I’ve never done the guided thing, but the
idea of you having to listen to everything I say, I have to admit, sounds
fucking hot,” he says lightly. I like the way we talk about these things,
bringing up ideas and having a conversation about them. Things with him
are so open, so comfortable, and that’s not something I’ve had before with a
boyfriend or a fuck buddy. I’m not used to people so open to talking about
sex, talking about what they want, but it is truthfully a breath of fresh air.
“I’m willing to try if you are. If I’m being honest, I need some of the
brain-numbing that you keep talking about,” I say lightly, not wanting to
give too much away, not wanting to confess exactly how I’ve been feeling
these past few days. I want to hold my feelings close to my chest, at least
for now, until I figure them out a little more.
“Bad day?” he asks, a seriousness taking him over that warms me from
the inside out.
“No, just need to get out of my own head,” I say, giving him the half-
truth that is safe, the one-sided truth that doesn’t make me want to throw up,
that doesn’t spin my world on its axis.
“I think I can help with that,” he says.
I mutter a small “thank God,” in response, a smile in my voice, so
fucking clearly. Actually, I think I have smiled more with Reid than I have
in months. I’ve been sitting on the phone, smiling for the last few days, so
much so that my cheeks are starting to hurt. My face is beginning to use
muscles it isn’t used to using.
“What are you wearing?” he asks, his voice turning gravelly, deeper than
normal, his sex voice coming out.
 “My bikini. The same one I was wearing earlier when I sent you those
pictures,” I say, my voice also going husky, the reminder of what happened
this afternoon making my entire body come alive. I sent him pictures of my
tits, moving my bikini top to the side, and when he sent me back a bulge
picture, evidence of what I do to him, evidence that he is wrapped up in this
as much as I am, it swarmed me desire, with a desperation for him to just be
here with me.
“I swear that picture is burned into my brain. My cock has been hard all
fucking day,” he groans out, and I enjoy seeing him in pain over what my
body can do to him. It’s a sick sense of power, but I bask in it anyway.
“Good,” I say softly, liking the idea of him thinking about me all day, of
him looking at his phone, over and over again, looking at the picture, not
able to stop.
“So, you’re going to do everything I say?” he asks, his voice going stern,
and it sounds sexy on him. I like the way authority sounds on him. “Yes
sir,” I say, remembering how much he enjoyed the name last time, and
wanting to hear how badly he wants this, wanting his voice to lull me into a
sense of security, into a sense of safety, because the other feelings I’m
having for him, this need, this desire, to continue whatever the fuck we
have started is making anxiety crawl up my spine.
“Fuck,” he groans, his voice low. “This is you being a brat. You give me
the power to control your body, and yet still, you drive me fucking wild.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I murmur, my voice low,
teasing, and I bite my lip, enjoying this feeling, like he may be calling all
the shots, but I know I have him wrapped around my finger. He might be in
control, but we both know that he only has control, because I’ve given it to
him, something I never considered when it came to these kinds of
relationships, where the man takes the lead. I always thought it would feel a
little degrading, to let a man tell me what to do, to listen to him, but it
almost feels the opposite, like I have more power than I ever have.
“You know, I have half a mind to punish you,” he mutters, and I feel a
thrill run through me, the idea that he would do that, would make me pay
for this control I have over him, is overpowering.
“And how would you do that?” I ask, teasing, pushing him, not knowing
if I want the punishment or not, both options sounding a little too sweet.
“I’d sit here, stroking my cock, over and over again, fucking my hand
while I think of you, and I’d cum, again and again, and I wouldn’t let you
touch yourself, not once. I wouldn’t let you please that tight little body,
wouldn’t let that back arch off the bed. I would just make you listen while I
cum with your name on my lips,” he says, and by the time he is done, my
eyes are wide, my clit throbbing, wanting that, but wanting anything else.
That sounds like the sweetest torture, the best punishment I’ve ever heard
of.
“And you say I’m dangerous,” I say, my voice husky, so desperate for
everything he described. I didn’t know giving power would feel like this,
letting a man have control wasn’t supposed to be this addicting, but the
longer he talks to me, the more I want it, the more I want to experience this
life, where I give everything I have and he uses it so expertly, knowing
exactly what I need at every given moment.
“You are dangerous. My cock is already leaking pre-cum all over because
of you,” he says, his voice a growl.
“And that’s my fault?” I ask, pushing him, wanting to test his limits.
“Yes. You are sitting there with your big tits and your tight little cunt, and
you are so fucking horny for me, but I’m all the way over here. You are
enjoying teasing me, making me so hard it’s unnatural. You know exactly
how to drive me crazy,” he says, and I can hear the lust in his voice, how
badly he wishes he was here with me, that we were fucking instead of
resorting to phone sex.
“Then it’s your fault that I’m sitting here horny, my cunt just aching to be
filled,” I say, smiling when he groans into the phone, giving me the exact
reaction I was hoping for, was looking for when the words came out of my
mouth.
“Move your bikini top, just like you did in that photo,” he says, his voice
suddenly serious, and I feel the power dynamic switch. I feel him take
control again, as he gets sick of listening to me be bratty, and I rush to
comply, not feeling threatened by him at all, his voice making me feel giddy
instead.
“Okay,” I say, my voice breathy, and I do what he says, pulling my tits
out, the cold air in the room giving me chills, my nipples hardening.
“Play with them, make them fucking ache. Play with them until you are
writhing around, wishing I was there to please that ache inside of you.” His
voice is lethal, doing things to my body that I wasn’t even sure could
happen, forcing lust into me faster than I am ready for.
 I rub my nipples, my tits more sensitive than usual, my entire body
primed and ready, desperate for release. With him, foreplay seems to start
the second we get on the phone, with the banter and the dirty talk. By the
time I actually start to touch myself, I swear I’m dripping and so fucking
horny it is making me insane.
I moan as I touch myself, my tits in both my hands, feeling the weight of
them, pinching my nipples lightly, letting him hear how good this feels,
how badly my body wants this. I do exactly as he asked, needing him to
know that I want this, want to give him this control, even if it makes me
nervous, even if I’m unsure because this feels better than it should. This
feels like something that has been missing, and I’m ready to explore exactly
how good it can be when I finally give up the control I’ve been so desperate
to hang onto.
“Good fucking girl, that’s right. Tease your fucking body while I stroke
my cock,” he says, as he groans into the phone, his moans like music to my
ears, making my body pulse harder.
I keep listening to him, both of us moaning, but after a while, the ache
between my legs feels like too much to ignore, and I’m miserable sitting
there, barely able to pleasure myself, barely able to have any relief. I wait
for him to tell me what to do next, for him to give me permission to touch
myself more, to finally get the same relief that he is, but he doesn’t say
anything. He leaves me here, with my tits in my hand, my neediness only
growing, as I listen to him get closer and closer to orgasm.
“Can–” I start, stopping myself, unsure if I should ask, unsure how this
works, but I’m not sure I can wait any longer. He quiets, giving me a
chance to think, a chance to speak. “Can I touch my clit?” I ask, the words
feeling unfamiliar in my mouth. I’m not used to asking permission, but
when he hums, considering my request, I feel myself rush with desire, with
this need to please him, to obey him.
“Are you horny? Desperate for some relief?” he asks, and I’m nodding
before he has even finished his sentence, so turned on, my clit is throbbing,
begging for touch. I want it so badly. I’m not sure how he got me here,
wound so tight, so fucking needy it feels like I can’t even take a deep
breath, but here I am.
“Yes,” I whimper, realizing that he can’t see me, can’t see how much I’m
nodding, how eager I am.
 “Well, that’s too bad, isn’t it? Maybe you should learn not to be such a
fucking tease,” he says, with a smugness in his voice, as if he is enjoying
this. I’m sure he is, if the stroking on the other end is any indication. I can
hear each stroke, the wetness coating his cock squelching loudly, giving me
a visual every time he thrusts up and down, pleasing himself.
I whine, fucking whine, into the phone, not really caring anymore,
knowing I sound a little pathetic, needing pleasure more than I need my
self-respect.
“Oh, are you really that horny?” he asks, while I keep playing with my
tits, getting myself more worked up, hating and loving it at the exact same
time. It is the sweetest kind of torture to only be able to play with my
nipples, only be able to please myself briefly, but it’s not enough. I rub my
thighs together, needing something, needing more, but it doesn’t do much,
doesn’t take away the ache.
“Yes!” I exclaim, my filter starting to go out the window, my mind
feeling like mush.
“Okay, fine,” he murmurs, a hint of mischief in his voice. “Touch your
clit, but don’t move your fingers,” he says softly, but I don’t even think
before I move. His words don’t even process, but the second I touch myself,
the second I start to scratch the itch deep within myself, his meaning
becomes clear. I freeze my movement, and I make a noise of annoyance,
not able to stop myself, not able to keep myself quiet when the only thing
going through my head is getting myself to orgasm.
“You’re kidding, right?” I ask, getting fed up, my lust clouding every
thought inside my mind. I can’t think, can’t feel, anything other than this. I
can barely process the words coming out of my own mouth because I want
this so desperately.
“You heard me. You can place your fingers on your clit, but you can’t
circle it, or stroke it, or move,” he says, and my head falls back on a groan.
I do what he says, but needing something, anything, needing more friction
that I’m currently getting with my tit in my hand, and my clit against my
fingers, and although I know it won’t be enough, I know I’m going to take
whatever I can get.
“I think you’re going to kill me,” I grind out, my teeth clenched as I push
my fingers down, giving myself the tiniest hint of pressure, desperately
trying to stay still, trying not to circle my clit, stroke myself to orgasm. It
would happen fast too, probably faster than Reid could stop me or tell me
not to cum. I’m so close already, wound too fucking tight. It would take
nothing to send me over the edge.
“I can hear you thinking through the phone, Avery. Don’t even fucking
think about it,” he says in warning, and I feel myself still, as if he’s here,
watching me, reading my thoughts.
“I’m not thinking anything,” I say breathily, my voice a shock even to
myself. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this horny, this desperate for an
orgasm, this close to the edge, and forced to just wait, to just hang on and
look over the edge but not being allowed to fall.
“You’re a brat. I know exactly what you’re thinking, and if you cum
before I tell you to, I swear to God, you’ll pay for it,” he says, and a thrill
runs through me, excitement, curiosity.
“What does that mean exactly?” I ask, my voice too obvious, my entire
body thrumming as I wait for him to describe what punishment would be
waiting for me. I know it would be good, too good, and it is tempting,
tempting to just let go, to let this pleasure consume me and discard
everything he is saying.
“I’m not going to tell you. You are so fucking dirty, sitting over there,
wanting me to tell you about the nasty things I’m gonna do if you disobey?
No fucking way. I’ll just say, this wouldn’t be a fun punishment, one that
you get off on. This one would be torture. I probably wouldn’t let you cum
for days if I had my way,” he says. I gulp lightly, not liking the sounds of
that, not liking the sound of him making me suffer for longer than I already
have.
“Well, that doesn’t sound very fun,” I say, my finger itching to move, to
please myself, but I hold steady, not wanting to find out what punishment
he had in mind, not wanting to be told not to cum for days.
Of course, I could throw everything he says out the window, not listen to
even an ounce of it, but this is part of the fun. I’m giving him control,
letting him tell me what to do. I’m trusting that he knows my body, knows
what is going to make me feel good, even if I don’t want to do it. I’m
trusting that he will get me out of my own head, get me out of overthinking,
and get me into my body, into my lust. It isn’t just about control, isn’t just
about him telling me what to do. I’m seeing that it is so much more than
that, and there is much more pleasure to be had than I ever imagined.
“Not every punishment is supposed to be fun for you, ya know?” he asks,
a smile in his voice, like he finds me endearing. The way he is talking to
me, almost like I am beneath him, like I am someone he needs to train,
someone he needs to coach, like he knows so much more than me,
shouldn’t turn me on. It’s slightly patronizing, slightly embarrassing, but
super hot at the same time.
“Can I please, make myself cum?” I ask, barely hanging on, this entire
situation being a test of my patience that I wasn’t prepared for. I’m not sure
if I knew what I was getting myself into when this started.
“I think maybe you should be forced to listen to me cum first,” he says,
and he knows that he got me, knows that he has something over me. That’s
one of my biggest turn-ons: listening to men moan, listening to the sounds
they make, the way the air leaves their lungs like they can’t imagine going
another second without being inside of you. I’ve always loved having a man
fall to his knees in front of me, so overcome with pleasure, and the idea that
he’s going to cum, while I sit here, writhing against my own fucking hand,
is goddamn torture.
“No, please,” I beg. “ We can cum at the same time,” I try, wanting to
hear him cum, wanting to pleasure myself right now, not after he cums first.
I don’t want to have to wait, listen to him as he gets off, and be left a horny
fucking mess.
“God, you are so fucking needy. You can’t wait a few more minutes?” he
asks, and I can hear his smug smile, his enjoyment over how desperate I
am. I whine in the back of my throat, warring with myself inside of my
head.
“No,” I say pathetically, and I feel it, feel how badly my body needs this,
how turned on I am. I am consumed by this pleasure. It is taking over every
cell inside of my body, taking over every thought inside of my head.
Nothing else lives here. No one is home, the lust and the desire have taken
residence, and they won’t leave until they get what they came for.
“Fine, since you are too horny to wait,” he says, like I am
inconveniencing him, but in the best way possible. He acts like this is
putting him out, like my lust is annoying for him, like he isn’t loving this.
It’s this light level of degradation, yet part of me loves it and is basking in
it.
“Ugh, yes, yes, yes, please,” I murmur, my words blending together, my
clit throbbing against my finger, desperation leaking from my every pore. I
have never felt like this, so horny, so fucking needy that I can’t even think,
can’t even breathe. I need to cum, so fucking badly.
 “You want to cum?” he asks, and I huff, my annoyance growing, my
impatience overtaking me.
“Is that not obvious?” I ask, my tone biting, my body begging to grind
against my fingers, begging to move. I hold off, with every ounce of
willpower I have, but it’s slowly slipping, making it harder and harder to
actually listen to what he has to say.
“You have an attitude when you are turned on,” he says with a small
laugh, and his casualness irritates me, digs into my skin, and makes me
angry. I am sitting over here, writhing, and it feels like he is messing with
me, playing with my emotions and enjoying every second of it. “Avery?” he
asks lightly, his voice breathy, cocky.
“What?” I say through clenched teeth, my pulse ringing through my ears,
my hips starting to move, barely thrusting up, just a half inch, my body not
able to contain anymore.
“Cum,” he says, and I don’t waste a second, don’t stop to think, don’t
give my body a moment to ask if I should or if this is okay. I just react to
his words, so fucking desperate for release that nothing else even matters
anymore.
I see goddamn stars the second that I start to move my fingers, rubbing
my clit in circles. My hips start grinding up, desperate for any ounce of
friction, desperate for anything and everything all at the same time.
I start cumming, my mind not even catching up with my body as I groan
out a moan, my body pulsing with need, pulsing with pleasure, my every
cell in bliss. I haven’t cum like this, not this hard, not this fast and
desperately, from just a few small touches, from just a few circles of my
fingers.
I hear him, right out of the edge of my consciousness, my ears barely
fucking working as pleasure thrums through me, but I hear him groan, his
orgasm ripping through him too, both of us falling off the edge together,
and it crosses my mind that he was just as turned on as I was, just as
desperate, just as needy, and he was just doing a better job of showing self-
restraint, not showing me how fucking influenced he was.
I start to come down, my entire body feeling sore from clenching all of
my muscles while I climaxed. I try to catch my breath, my breathing erratic
as I suck in air, desperate for oxygen now that I’ve had my orgasm, now
that I’ve felt that pleasure.
 Reid is on the other end panting after his orgasm, seeming to come down
in the same way I did, like the earth was shaken by how hard he just came.
He breathes into the phone, and his fast breaths shouldn’t be endearing to
me, shouldn’t make me smile as I breathe heavily, too. The sound of him on
the other end shouldn’t comfort me or make my insides feel a little gooey,
but they do.
“Holy shit,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, still breathing hard, unable to
catch his breath, and I feel smugness radiate through me, happy to know
that he enjoyed that just as much as I did.
“That good?” I ask, smug satisfaction taking over my voice, unable to
hold back.
“Don’t act like you don’t know how good that was,” he retorts, his voice
soft, kind, humor radiating even through the phone. “I heard how hard you
came. I would be shocked if no one in the hotel checks on you,” he says
with a smile in his voice, and I laugh, feeling closer to him than I have any
right to.
I shouldn’t be feeling this mushy feeling inside of me, but I am. I don’t
know why this is happening. I’ve had flings with people before, and I’ve
had no problem walking away, but something about Reid, something about
the way we trust each other, the give and take we have, feels different. I
have never trusted someone like this, giving them every ounce of power
that I can, and I’ve never had someone take such great pleasure in holding
my power with kindness, making sure to take care of me in the process.
“Shut up,” I finally reply, the silence feeling heavy between us as we both
come down, our pleasure finally on the back burner, and now, as much as I
don’t want to admit it, I don’t want to get off, don’t want to end this here. I
want to talk to him for hours, basking in what just happened between us,
telling each other secrets like high schoolers, just enjoying each other. I
shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t be itching for more when I already had the
best orgasm of my life, but I am, and I’m not sure how to stop it.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter 11

Reid

“W hat was your first impression of me?” I ask. My voice is groggy

with sleep, exhaustion finally starting to take over. We’ve been
talking for a while, so long that I lost track of time. It’s been nice
being able to talk to her and get to know her without a time limit. We
haven’t been in a rush to get off the phone because we both had orgasms
already.
“At the bar?” she asks before silence consumes the line. She is probably
thinking, as her mind goes back to that night. I know mine does, the way
she looked in that fucking dress, her head back laughing, and how she
pulled every eye in the room toward her. She was radiant that night and,
honestly, has been every night since.
“Or on the phone the first night,” I murmur. I think back to that, to her
guiding us, to her leading the phone sex because I was a little unsure, and it
feels like such a contrast to where we are now, to this place we find
ourselves. It feels like we are on the cusp of something. The pieces are
starting to move, and that’s scary but also so satisfying.
 “At the bar, I thought you were hot, sexy, confident,” she says lightly, a
smile shining through her voice. “On the phone that first night, I thought
you were endearing,'' she says, and I scoff, to which her laugh instantly
echoes over the line.
“What does that mean?” I ask, smiling though. I hate how easy it is with
her, how we can just talk about nothing at all, just go back and forth, and
I’m having a good time no matter what. I’ve wanted a relationship for
years. I’ve been waiting for someone to be a good match for me and to be
the person who makes me want more with them. I have been waiting for too
long… for her, and now, she’s halfway across the country and hates the idea
of even trying long distance. I think the universe is laughing at me right
now.
“You were just so nervous, and I thought it was sweet,” she says, and this
conversation feels like it takes a turn. The entire world flips a switch, and
we are suddenly serious, both of us feeling it, both of us knowing what is
happening. I know she might not like this, talking about the real shit, the
feelings that may be happening here, but I need to. I want to know exactly
how she feels, exactly what she wants, exactly which way she wants this to
go. It’s all so confusing. I feel as though I am trying to go through this
without having all the pieces to the puzzle. “I thought it was cute. You’re so
dominant, and I love that, trust me,” she says eagerly, and it makes me
smile. “But finding someone who can be vulnerable, try something new,
even though you weren’t perfect at it,” she pauses, and I hold on to every
word coming out of her mouth. I wouldn’t interrupt her for the world. I am
simply desperate for more. “I don’t know, I just liked it.” Her voice is timid
like she gave too much away, but I’m itching for more, wanting to hear
every thought she has ever had about me.
“It was only because I was with you,” I admit, knowing I need to give
something too, knowing that I want her to know at least how I feel. “You
were so calm, so reassuring. You guided me through it, didn’t make me feel
stupid, just jumped right in, wanting to teach me, wanting to bring me along
for the ride. I probably wouldn’t have been so open with anyone else,” I
admit, my voice low, not knowing if this is the right thing to say, not
knowing if I should even be saying this, admitting something so deep, but I
want to, and that’s the only thing I can use to guide me.
“I leave on Friday,” she says, her voice so quiet that I almost don’t hear
her. I understand her meaning right away. This is supposed to end in just a
few days. We are supposed to go back to strangers, people who don't know
each other, especially not as intimately as we do.
“I know,” I say, not knowing what else to say, not knowing how to make
this better. Our reality is a fact. It isn’t going to change. I don’t know how
to change this situation. Silence stretches on, neither of us speaking, neither
of us breaking it. We sit in it, and for just a second, it feels like sadness, like
we are both experiencing sadness together over this.
“If you lived closer, I don’t think I would end this. I would just keep
fucking you,” she says, her voice sleepy yet serious, her words holding too
much truth. I know she isn’t lying, isn’t just bullshitting me, and that only
makes me sadder, makes the sting just a little bit worse.
“We don’t have to stop talking on the phone,” I say, my voice just barely
hopeful, barely hinting that I want this. I want to keep doing this. I want to
keep having the phone sex, of course, but I want this too. The late-night
talks, the laughing, the deep conversations where we are both unsure if we
should confide in each other.
“It isn’t really the same,” she says, and I feel my hope deflate. I return
back to my feeling of not knowing how to fix this, not knowing how to
change the situation we got ourselves into. We knew going into this that it
would end, but I didn’t expect us to grow closer as the days passed by. “I’m
gonna go to bed. Talk tomorrow?” she asks, her voice a mumble, and I nod
before remembering that she isn’t here with me and can’t see my
movements or the expressions on my face. Maybe this would be easier if
she could see me. Maybe if she could see every emotion as it crossed my
face, if she could make them all out, she could decide for herself how I felt.
No, how I feel. Maybe it would be easier if I could do the same with her.
“Yeah, talk to you tomorrow,” I say softly, waiting for her to hang up the
phone. My phone beeps, the sound that the call is over, and I set the phone
on my bedside table, trying to shake it off. I am trying to get back to myself,
to shake this feeling, this uneasiness, but I can’t. I don’t sleep well after
that, my body stiff, unable to relax with Friday looming over me.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter 12

Avery

M ymyphone buzzes with a text on the lounger next to me, pressed against
skin. The sun shines bright against my eyes, and I bring my arm up
to block it while I check my phone, trying like hell not to be too eager,
afraid to tip off Emma that I’m hoping it is a certain person. She knows how
to read me like a book, and I’ve kept my secret this far.
The text has a picture attached, a picture of Reid’s boner through his
pants, through his work pants, which is such a turn-on, thinking about him
in a suit, in his office. Even more so, the idea that he is hard with other
people around, trying to hide his desire for me while he’s at work. I’m sure
he’s imagining all the ways he could fuck me in his office, with his suit still
on, just his buckle undone and his zipper down, forcing me to be quiet so no
one else hears us.
You make working very hard
I read his message, and I smile lightly, bringing my hand down from
blocking the sun to reply. I type out my reply, not thinking too much, just
wanting to enjoy this, the sun on my skin, my sister next to me, a hot guy
texting me about his cock. Having my sister next to me is more awkward
than anything, but whatever. I’m enjoying being surrounded by all these
people I enjoy, feeling happiness for the first time in so fucking long.
Too bad I’m not there to take care of that for you. I would hide under
your desk all day until you were satisfied.
I hit send, knowing it will drive him crazy, knowing it will only make his
cock throb, but that’s exactly what I want. He drove me crazy yesterday,
keeping me right on the edge, keeping me from cumming. Still, as much as
I enjoyed it and as hard as I came, I want to make him suffer just like he
made me.
You are fucking evil, you know that?
I read his reply, shifting slightly to the side so my sister can’t see who I’m
messaging. I don’t think she would care, don’t think she would have a
problem with it, but I also don’t really want her to find out, not yet, at least,
not if she doesn’t have to.
I look down at my phone as it buzzes again
Imagining being in a client meeting with you under my desk… fuck it’s
driving me insane.
I bite my lip, trying to keep my reactions to myself, trying to be discreet,
but I’ve always been shit at it, awful at hiding my emotions from anyone,
much less my sister. I feel her eyes on me as I type out a reply.
I would see how deep I could take you while you talk to your client. See if
your cock would hit the back of my throat, make me gag. I’d have to be
quiet though.
I glance up at Emma, sitting in the lounger next to me, her eyebrows
raised, a question in her eyes. I pretend I don’t know what she is asking,
sending her the exact same questioning look, our similarities definitely
present.
“Don’t play dumb with me,” she says, her eyes squinting like she is
trying to read text a little too far away. Her eyes search my face, giving me
anxiety, and I feel my cheeks heat. I knew this was coming. I knew she
would catch on before our vacation was over. I knew I couldn’t keep it
hidden from her, but part of me hoped to avoid this.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I finally reply, glancing away
from her, not able to lie to her while looking her in the eyes.
“Who are you texting?” she asks, a knowing in her voice like she already
knows it’s a man. I glance at my lounger, picking at a loose thread, needing
something to do with my hands. I don’t like lying to her, don’t like not
telling her things. I’m not even worried she’s going to be mad. She would
probably be happy for me, probably excited that I found someone to orgasm
with on a regular basis.
But this thing with Reid feels bigger than that no matter how much I tell
myself it isn’t, that it can’t be. I’m not ready to tell her because this doesn’t
feel like a fling. It doesn’t feel like a small blip in my history. This feels like
a bigger deal, and I don’t want to admit that to myself, much less her. I want
to keep pretending that I feel nothing, that I’m not opening myself up in
ways I never have before.
If I tell her, then I have to face it, and finally realize what is happening,
and I don’t think I’m ready to do that.
“You’ve been smiling at your phone for the past five minutes, and
nothing makes you smile like that,” she says, pointing to my face, and I
wipe my smile off, completely forgetting it was even there, forgetting that I
show every emotion right on my face.
“Like what?” I ask, doing my best to keep my voice soft and unbothered.
I fail terribly.
“You are blushing,” she says, her eyes glancing down at my chest, going
wide, probably seeing how red it is, how my blush has spread not only to
my cheeks, but to my chest. I don’t look down. I don’t want to know what
my body looks like. Knowing what we were texting about, I’m sure I am
blushing, and I am sure she can read it all over my face, but I hold strong,
intent on getting her off my back until I want to talk about it.
“It’s called a sunburn, Emma,” I retort, turning my nose up at her.
“Ha. Good one. Your ‘sunburn’ wasn’t there before you picked up your
phone,” she says, mocking my tone, adding air quotes and everything. I just
roll my eyes, looking out to the pool, needing distraction. I let my body
slump against my recliner, pouting.
“C’mon,” she says, her voice soft, reassuring. “You can tell me
anything.” Her words make me feel guilty, make my secret feel bigger than
it is, and I force the words to tumble from my mouth before I can second
guess myself, before I can convince myself that this is a bad idea. I just
push them, knowing it will come out eventually, knowing that since she is
suspicious, I won’t be able to keep this secret any longer.
“I’m texting Reid,” I mumble, turning away from her, not wanting to see
the look on her face when she processes exactly what I’ve just said.
 “I’m sorry, what?” she asks, and I’m unsure if she is shocked or didn’t
hear me, so I turn toward her, my face warm with embarrassment, and say it
again.
“I’m texting Reid,” I say more clearly, and the way her eyebrows raise,
the shock on her face, tells me she knows exactly what I said this time.
“Finn’s best friend, Reid?” she asks, looking more confused than when
she couldn’t hear me.
“Yeah,” I reply simply, anxiety spiking in my blood. I’m suddenly unsure
how this is going to go. I was convinced that she wouldn’t care, wouldn’t
give a shit, but now that I’m in front of her, I’m worried she is going to care
a lot more than I expected.
“How do you even know him?” she asks, with no malice in her voice, just
pure confusion, like we are two people she never thought would cross
paths.
“The wedding, duh,” I reply, giving my sister a blank look.
“Oh, right. I kind of forgot he was there,” she says with a small wince
and a laugh, looking at me like she has never seen me before, like sitting in
front of her is a brand new sister, one she doesn’t recognize. “Did you
guys…?” she asks, her voice suggestive, a smirk taking over her gaze as she
stares at me.
“No, we were going to. He was hitting on me at the bar, and I was about
to ask if he wanted to join me upstairs, but he had a flight to catch,” I
explain, turning my body toward her, feeling relief that she isn’t freaking
out. I knew she would be okay with this, knew I could trust her with this
information, and I’m suddenly happy that she knows. I needed someone to
talk to, someone to bounce ideas off of because this whole situation has my
head in a jumble.
“Were you going to fuck him in the middle of my wedding reception?”
she asks, barking out a laugh along with her words. I feel my cheeks heat,
again.
“Maybe,” I reply, and she bursts out laughing. I follow suit, this entire
thing feeling so ridiculous.
“Of course you were. I don’t know why I’m shocked,” she says, a look in
her eyes full of adoration and love. I’m struck by how happy I am to be
here, sitting with her in the sun, enjoying this vacation. I’m glad we stayed
close, never letting anything come between us. “Anyway, so now you are
texting? How did that happen?” she asks, turning her entire body toward
me, crossing her legs on her chair, and I do the same.
“He gave me his number, but I wasn’t even going to use it. I literally
threw it in my purse, not even thinking about it, until I walked into my hotel
room, and I was so drunk and horny. I wanted to hook up with someone, but
no one was catching my eye, and I wished like hell that he was just here, so
I picked up the number and called, and we had phone sex,” I explain while
Emma watches me closely, following along with the story.
“Oh my god,” she shrieks. “Was it good?” she asks, her face filled with
excitement, and I feel it leak into my expression, too, her joy contagious.
I think about the question for a minute, but I'm not sure how to explain
what has happened between us these last few days.
“He had never had phone sex before, so there was a little bit of a learning
curve, but it is pretty much just dirty talk, so he caught on really quick,” I
explain. Emma nods along as I talk, a smile on her face, like she knows
something I don’t.
“Oh my God, you like him, don’t you?” she asks, her voice shrill, high, a
shriek, and I wince at the sound.
“No!” I reply, too fast, already knowing she isn’t going to believe me,
isn’t going to let me off the hook with that answer.
“Please,” she says, her hand waving in front of her as if she doesn’t
believe me for a second, but that just makes me double down, forces this
need inside of me to make her believe me, for her to understand exactly
what is happening inside of my head.
“I don’t. It’s just phone sex. We are stopping after I get back home,” I
explain, looking out to the pool, trying to act casual, trying to act like it’s
not a big deal, trying to get my message across with my body.
“Be serious with me for a minute,'' Emma mutters, and when I look back
at her, a glare in my eyes, she gives me a serious look right back, one that I
tend to take seriously. I huff and move to face her, waiting for what I know
she wants to say. “You would have told me sooner if it was just phone sex,”
she says, raising her eyebrows, challenging me to disagree with her.
I huff out another breath. This conversation is taking a turn I wasn’t quite
ready for. “I didn’t know how you would feel about me having a thing for
one of Finn’s friends; that’s why I didn’t tell you,” I explain, looking away
again, not wanting to make eye contact as my stomach swirls with nerves.
 “You are so full of shit. I have tried to hook you up with several of Finn’s
friends. No one would have cared. You didn’t want to tell me because it
isn’t just sex. It’s more than that, and that scares the fuck out of you,” she
says, hitting the nail directly on the head, taking my thoughts and my
feelings directly out of my mind and spewing them back to me. I hate that
her words feel right like my soul is exposed in front of me. I don’t want her
to be right. I don’t want her to understand me better than I understand
myself.
I sigh, wanting to deny it, wanting to pretend, wanting to put up a wall
and act like she doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but this is Emma.
This is my caring sister who knows when I’m lying. She knows me so well,
knows when I’m full of shit, knows when I am annoyed. She will listen
with grace and understanding and give me the best advice she has because
she has never wanted anything other than good things for me.
If there is a person on this earth that I can trust with this, it’s her.
“I didn’t expect it to be so easy with him. I mean, it’s phone sex, yes, but
he’s funny and sweet, and it’s so easy to open up with him. I’ve never had
this level of intimacy with anyone else,” I reply, just saying it all, letting my
thoughts and feelings pour out because this is my sister. She is the one
person on this earth who knows all of my secrets, even before I do.
“And that scares you?” she asks, her eyes understanding, sincere. She
waits as I think, trying to make my jumbled thoughts make sense.
“I don’t want a relationship, you know that,” I say simply, needing her to
understand, needing her to know that this is not the time or the place I
wanted this to happen. I don’t want to settle down. I don’t want to date
anyone. Everything is just easier when it’s sex, when it is hooking up with
someone with no strings or feelings attached. I didn’t want more when I
started this, and I still don’t want more. I don’t want to push this thing
between me and Reid to what it could be.
It feels easier to just cut the head off now, that is, to end this thing that is
growing between us, but the longer that we talk and the more I see of him,
the less I want to and that’s the problem.
“He’s a good guy, Avery. I’ve only met him a few times, but Finn talks
highly of him. They have been friends for so fucking long, and he’s the only
one who didn’t try to get something out of Finn when he got money. He
seems to be a good guy, and I’m sure he would never try to hurt you on
purpose,” she explains, and her words stick in the air. It means something to
me that the people in my life who I trust the most trusts him, but it doesn’t
erase my fear. It doesn’t make the anxiety growing in my stomach calm.
“But I don’t want anything more, Emma,” I say lightly, the words falling
from my mouth so easily like they have been said a hundred times.
“You don’t want any more, or are you scared of anything more?” she asks
simply, and then she pauses, letting her words get through my head, letting
them sink into my skull and grow inside of my brain, taking up their own
space. Then she sits up, her body rising in front of me. “I’m going to grab
something to drink, try to find my husband, and make sure he hasn’t spent
all his money gambling. Just think about what I said, okay?” she asks,
looking down at me, the sun shining behind her red hair.
I just nod, not wanting to speak, the air feeling too thick around me, her
words seeming to weigh me down.
Everything she said catches in my head, leaving a trail of something
behind, leaving a wonder, a thought that maybe she is right, that maybe I’ve
just been scared, too worried to actually think about what could happen if I
let this thing between Reid and I blossom.
I’ve never been one to operate on fear, never been one to want to let
anything hold me back, and the idea that I’m letting it happen here, letting
fear rule me, doesn’t sit well with me. It scares me to think what could
happen, how badly this could end, but it might scare me more to know that
fear is holding me back, holding me from something that I really may want.

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 Chapter 13

Reid

I would love to be able to say that Avery hasn’t been distracting me while
I’m at work, that I’m such a professional that her texts don’t keep me
from doing my job, but fuck I would be lying if I said it isn’t tough when I
know she’s sitting under the sun, in a tiny ass bikini, just waiting for me to
get off.
Especially today, when her flirty texts are firing back, and I can’t help but
watch my phone for more and more and more, my body aching for release,
desperate for her voice to be the one to get me to the other side of this lust.
I haven’t replied to her in a few minutes, her message staring back at me,
making me want to do dirty things, disgusting things, things I have no
business even thinking about while I’m in my place of work.
I would see how deep I could take you while you talk to your client. See if
your cock would hit the back of my throat, make me gag. I’d have to be
quiet though.
I read it one more time, holding back a groan. I have my own office, and
could do whatever I wanted, but it feels dirty with my co-workers on the
other side of my office doors, with so many people around. I shouldn’t want
it as badly as I do. I shouldn’t want to send her pictures and videos while I
read her message over and over again and use the mental image to make
myself cum all over my desk.
She is turning me into a fucking savage that doesn’t know when to stop.
My phone vibrates on my desk, pulling me out of my thoughts, pulling
me away from my lust, thankfully, but when I read the name, it all crashes
back at me even harder than before.
I answer anyway, not caring about what I should be doing right now, just
letting my body push me, letting all of my urges take over for once in my
life because when it comes to her, when it comes to Avery, I can’t seem to
help myself.
“Hey,” I say, trying to sound casual, trying to sound like her message
didn’t ruin me for the rest of my life, didn’t make me second guess every
choice I have made since the night we met. I try to hide the fact that I
cannot stop wondering why the fuck I haven’t called into work and found
the next flight to her to finally get her out of my system.
The only problem is, I’m not sure if there is an “out of my system”
anymore. I feel addicted. I’m like Pavlov's dog, getting hard anytime my
phone rings, my body attuned to her and her phone calls. I’m a mess, and I
only have her to blame.
“Did my message break your brain?” she asks with a laugh in her voice,
the sound too sweet. I smile, leaning back in my chair, my cock literally
aching in my dress pants.
“Maybe just a little,” I admit, trying to keep my voice down. I’ve had
hundreds of phone calls in here before, ones with clients whose information
is top secret, ones where if someone heard, it could cost us millions, but
none of them feel as important to keep secret as this one. I don’t need any
of the workers outside my doors to know exactly what is happening on the
phone, or at least what I want to happen.
“I thought it might,” she replies, her voice soft, sweet. I want to soak it
up, lean into it. “Anyway, I’m just calling because…” she pauses, her voice
suddenly unsure, and I sit up a little, not knowing what to expect. “I was
just talking to Emma, and she got the information out of me,” she admits,
and I’m not really shocked by the news.
“She knows?” I ask, just wanting to be sure we are talking about the same
thing.
 “She knows,” she says, almost grimly, like she doesn’t know how I’m
going to respond.
“Well, I guess I should be expecting a call from Finn anytime now,” I say
lightly, trying to add extra casualness to my voice, trying to convey that I
don't care who knows that we are talking. It feels important to make sure
that she knows that I’m not trying to hide this. I am not trying to shy her
away from the world. I want her to know that I don’t care if Finn is pissed
or if Emma doesn’t like it.
“Emma said something else,” she mutters, the tone of the entire call
suddenly changing, and I feel my heart start to beat, unsure what bad things
Emma would even say about me. I have met her a few times, and every
time, we got along. I thought she was kind, funny, and I assumed she felt
the same. I hold my breath, waiting for her to continue.
“She said you are a really good guy,” she says, and the statement shocks
me; it's not at all what I was expecting. I wait for another moment, for her
to explain, for her words to make sense, but they don’t.
“That’s what you wanted to tell me? That Emma thinks I’m a good guy?”
I ask a small laugh in my voice, her meaning not coming through, not
making any sense.
“And I…” she pauses again, this entire conversation confusing the
absolute fuck out of me. “I missed you,” she says, her voice light, fearful. I
suck in a breath of air, hating how much her words hit me in the chest,
making my entire body feel tense but in the best way. This moment feels
big, the first time she is showing me that she cares, that she isn’t here for
sex, for a fling, and it seems important for me to respond the right way. I
don’t want to get too serious, to make this a confession for the both of us,
make this a bigger moment than she already has, so I go with what we both
know, what we are both comfortable with: sex.
“You are sitting by the pool, horny, aren’t you?” I ask, trying to take the
attention off her, trying to make this conversation light so that it doesn’t
scare her.
She pauses for just a moment. “You caught me. I’m just here, wishing
your tongue was on me instead of my hands,” she murmurs with a hint of
relief coating her words. I smile, glad I got that right, glad she isn’t running
for the hills after confessing that she misses me.
“Are you touching yourself at the pool?” I ask, the image instantly
consuming me, making it very hard to keep myself composed, even though
I’m at work, the one place I should be pushing these thoughts away.
“Ugh, I wish, there are too many people here,” she says, and I can
imagine the way she is pouting just based on her voice, on the way she
starts to mumble at the end of her sentence. “But I could always find my
way to my room,” she purrs, her voice like honey, and I want nothing more
than what she is offering, nothing more than her moans filling my phone
while I jerk off at my desk, but I know I shouldn’t. I have so much work to
do today, so many things are starting to pile up, and this thing between us
distracts me and makes it harder and harder to get my work done. I need to
be productive today, and I’ve already wasted enough time texting her dirty
messages.
“I really should get some work done today,” I mutter, not wanting my
words to be the truth. I want to be there with her, on vacation, with all the
time in the world to soak each other up, but instead, I’m here, in a suit,
looking at financial reports, trying like hell not to let the numbers blur
together.
“I actually need something from my room anyway,” she says, and there’s
jostling on her side of the phone, like she is moving around, and I groan,
imagining her walking up to her room in just a tiny little bikini, and me
stripping it off of her with my teeth.
“I’m not kidding, Avery. I really do need to work today,” I say,
regretfully.
“Oh my God, calm down,” she says with more jostling in the background.
I don’t have time today to play these games, even though my cock is
already stiff in my slacks, and I want nothing more than to encourage her.
I hear the ding for the elevator, and I warn her, “Avery.” I say it lightly,
not knowing how I feel, not knowing which way I want to take this. My
mind is warring, my rational winning out, just barely, the devil on my
shoulder making a damn convincing argument, though.
“I just need to grab something from my room,” she responds, a small
smile in her voice, and I hold back another groan, not knowing what this
woman is doing to me. I had morals and values before her, but where she is
concerned, I throw them all out the window, not caring about them when
she is around. I just need her. I need to be close to her, to talk to her, to hear
her moans. Nothing else matters, and that’s the exact wrong kind of
thinking while I’m sitting at my desk.
 “What do you need exactly from your room?” I ask, trying to call her
bluff, trying to get her to admit to the game we both know she is playing.
“Lotion,” she says after a small silence, and I don't believe her for a
goddamn second.
“Really? Are you feeling dry right now?” I ask, a cheeky grin spreading
over my goddamn face.
“Nope, pretty wet, actually,” she replies, and I groan out loud this time,
knowing exactly where this is going. I know exactly what her goal is, but I
don't know if I should give in or not. I want to hold my ground and be
productive at work, but I want nothing more than to sink into her, especially
for the limited time we have. I’m not sure where this thing between us is
going to go, and I want to savor it, want to soak it up so fully, until every
moment is ingrained in my brain.
I hear the elevator ding again, and then a few seconds of silence, more
jostling, and then there is a door closing, and I know she is inside of her
room, and holding onto my self-control is about to get ten times harder.
“What are you doing?” I ask, going a little insane from the silence. I want
to know exactly what her hands are doing: if she is touching herself, if she
has taken off her bikini yet. I want to know, even though I know I shouldn’t,
even though I know this is a bad idea while I’m at work. I should be ending
the call, hanging up the phone, but I can’t help myself, can’t seem to stop
myself.
“Just laying in bed,” she says, her voice a fucking tease. She knows
exactly where she has me, knows exactly how on edge I am right now, and
she’s riding it out, making me more and more desperate.
“Avery,” I warn again, my mind literally pulling me in two separate
directions. I want one thing, but I know it’s wrong, and I know it would be a
bad idea. The walls of my office are too thin for this. It’s a risk to even be
on the phone with her, speaking to her like this while in the office. I can’t
jerk off, can’t stroke my cock while she is talking to me, playing with her
tight little cunt on the other end of the phone, not here.
“What?” she says, her voice a mock innocence, and I think of all the
things we would be doing if she was here right now. I wouldn’t be able to
resist bending her over my desk, holding a hand over her mouth, and
keeping her quiet while I fuck her senselessly. I wouldn’t be able to say no
then; as it is, I’m barely holding onto my self-control.
 “I can’t do this while I’m at the office,” I warn, my voice barely
commanding, barely holding any weight, because my self-control is
slipping, and she hasn’t even done anything. The silence is enough for me
to want to cave, to want to break and just have my filthy way with myself,
with her, even though she is too far away for either of us to be fully
satisfied.
The distance between us just keeps feeling longer and longer the more we
talk. It feels like a weight on my chest, and I just want to see her, want to
see the women I’ve been talking to, been building a connection with.
She might not want to call it that and might be hesitant to admit what is
happening, but that’s what it is. We are building something, no matter how
much we shouldn’t, no matter how much it is setting both of us up to get
hurt, to get fucked over. Falling for someone hundreds of miles away is
never a good idea, but I don't think I can help myself anymore.
It’s like a snowball rolling downhill. It’s only getting bigger and bigger,
collecting more as it goes, and there’s no stopping it, no slowing its roll.
“I’m just laying in bed, Reid. I don’t know what you think I’m doing,”
she says, a smile in her voice. It sounds so fucking sweet, and I groan
because we both know where this is going, and I’m not strong enough for
this.
“You are such a brat, you know that?” I ask, my voice hoarse, the
anticipation making this worse, making my entire body thrumming. I just
want her to be touching herself, to be teasing the fuck out of me already, but
knowing that it’s coming, knowing that she is going to soon, is ruining me.
“Yeah, I know,” she murmurs with a smugness that shouldn’t be sexy, but
it is. “Did you think I was going to do something else? Something dirty?”
she asks, and my entire body withholds a shudder. I don’t know how she did
this, how she got me so completely wrapped around her goddamn finger,
but here I am, listening so intently to every word coming out of her pretty
mouth.
“Avery, either play with your little pussy, or I’m going to hang up on you
and make you wait,” I say through clenched teeth, my resolve completely
slipping now, my desire to listen to her, to hear her cum, is too
overpowering. I don’t have to do anything, don’t have to jerk my aching
cock, but I need to hear her cum, need to have her orgasm ringing through
my ears if I’m going to get anything else done today.
 “Fine, so demanding,” she quips, acting like she isn’t influenced by this,
but I can hear the way her breathing has picked up, the smile in her voice,
the desire there too. I can hear it all. I’ve become a master at listening for
her subtle clues, the tiny hitches in her voice, and exactly what they mean,
and right now, I know she wants this as badly as I do.
“Tell me everything that you’re doing,” I say, trying not to sound like I’m
begging or like I’m pleading with her, even though we both know that if she
denies me, I will. I’ll ask very nicely if that is what she needs because this
desire running through my blood is too hot and too all-consuming. I can’t
push it away, not anymore.
“I’m moving my bikini top to the side, exposing my tits,” she says, her
voice light, slow, like she is still edging me, and I fucking love this side of
her. I’ve always been a dominant man, liking taking control in the bedroom,
liking calling all of the shots, making women just listen to whatever I have
to say, but having her tease me like this is ruining me for anyone else. “I’m
bringing my hand down on my stomach, sliding it down, down, down,” she
purrs, and I swear to god I’m holding onto every word, my entire body
tense as she describes this.
“You are going to pay for this,” I mutter out, my mind thinking of a
hundred ways that I could make her regret this entire tease, this entire
situation. My head spins with all the ways I could make her beg for mercy,
beg for her orgasms, instead of the other way around.
“Not today, I’m not,” she says, like a true brat, like someone loving
having all of the power, like someone who relishes in my misery. I need her
so desperately, like I need air, and I suddenly want to ask for more than I’m
allowed, more than she would be okay giving me. I want to fly to her and
show up at her hotel room with nothing but a bag in my hand. I want to
explore this, find out why I feel like this. I want to be surrounded by her
constantly and find out if she feels the same way. I’ve been wanting this
more and more, and it feels so intense inside of my chest, this desire to feel
the heat of her skin against mine, to feel her lips against my own, to feel her
body under me. It’s harder to brush off now, now that we’ve had a few days
of talking, of getting to know each other.
“Avery, I’m supposed to be working,” I say, my voice barely able to hold
any warning, but I hear people moving outside of my office. I can hear them
talking through the sheetrock, but it only makes this hotter, only making my
cock stiffer that someone could catch me.
 “You don’t have to do anything, Reid. I was just planning on making
myself cum real quick, but if you don’t want to listen, no problem,” she
says as if it means nothing, as if she barely wants me here, but we both
know it’s a lie. We both know this is a game we are playing. We both know
that she loves this, drawing it out, making me ache for her. She loves
knowing she has me right in the palm of her hand.
“Fuck,” I curse, my cock literally throbbing through my slacks. “I want to
hear it,” I say, my voice so fucking low, like I don’t want to admit to this,
and I don’t. I hate that she has me here, but part of me, the small part inside
of me that I only seem to be able to show her, kind of loves it, kind of loves
the way she can command the room, can command me, can put me in the
palm of her hand. She has so much power, and I have no problem admitting
that because she is a force, and we both know it. It only makes it that much
sweeter when she gives me all of the control.
“I thought you might,” she snides, her voice full of satisfaction, and I’m
about to quip back, annoyed at her tone, but I listen as she moans, probably
bringing her hand down on her clit and rubbing circles in her sensitive
flesh.
Every thought I have ever had goes out the window, and my only concern
becomes her pleasure, becomes her orgasm that is in the future. I want it, so
desperately, to hear her come apart.
I rub my cock through my pants, needing some kind of friction, some
kind of relief, but I don’t stroke as much as I would like, as much as my
body needs, because if I’m not careful, I’m going to cum in my pants like a
fucking teenager, unable to handle a little bit of heavy petting.
“You going to be a good girl and cum for me? Make me listen to your
orgasm and wish I was there? Feeling it on my cock?” I ask. My entire body
is tense. I need to hear her. I need to hear every sound that comes out of her
mouth. I need to know how much she is enjoying this and how much she
needs this. I need her to want this as badly as I do because it is the one thing
we agree on. I know I can’t ask for more than this, can’t ask for her to
consider what we could be, but this, we can do this.
“Yes, fuck yes,” she moans, her breath panting against her phone, and I
revel in the sound, rubbing my cock to each breath she lets out, letting her
pace guide me.
“Play with those big fucking tits too, baby. Show your body how good it
can feel,” I murmur, my orgasm already too close, already building at the
base of my spine, and I want it, want to have phone sex with her in my
office, no matter how inappropriate it is, no matter the goddamn
consequences, but I rein myself in, needing to keep myself at least a little
under control.
“Fuck, I’m so fucking wet for you,” she mutters, her voice so sweet, so
desperate, and I love that she slowly gives the power back whenever she
gets closer to orgasm.
“That’s right, baby, it’s all for me,” I say, and I hope it’s okay to take
possession of her pussy, of her wetness. I want it all. I want to be the source
of everything good in her life. I could burst with this feeling, this desire,
this need to be closer to her. It feels like an itch that I can’t quite scratch,
can’t quite satisfy because I’m never there with her, never feeling her
clench around my cock, never feeling her breath against my skin, her moans
in my ear. I’m not experiencing everything she has to give me, but now I
am starting to wonder if it would ever be enough, if I could get enough of
her. The longer I talk to her, the hungrier I get for even an ounce of her
attention. I just want more of her, more time, more conversation, more
orgasms, and it feels like we are chasing the clock because I know this has a
deadline.
“Yes, all for you,” she agrees, and I know she’s getting close. I imagine
her playing with her tight cunt, her legs spread, her body on display, her
desire radiating off of her as she gets closer and closer to cumming.
An idea suddenly pops into my head, payback for this tease that she has
given me. It might be a good idea, or it might be awful, but I know I’m
about to find out because I can’t hold back, can’t stop myself from saying
exactly what I’m thinking.
“Are you close?” I ask, wanting to know for sure, needing to hear her say
it.
“Fuck yes, I’m so close,” she moans, her voice barely a breath.
“Good. Are you going to do exactly what I tell you?” I ask, wanting her
to agree, knowing that the closer she is to her orgasm the more likely she is
to do what I want.
“Yes, yes, anything,” she says. Her voice is a cry, a plea, for me to make
her finally cum.
“Stop,” I say, the one single word seeming to take up all the space
between us, and the line goes quiet just for a second before a whimper
ghosts over my body, her whimper making me shiver.
 “What?” she asks, but I know she was listening, because she is breathing
heavily and slowly catching her breath. She is making these noises,
whimpers, like she can’t wait to touch herself again, like she is begging to
touch herself again.
“Brats don’t get to cum,” I say, taking all of the power back, enjoying this
give-and-take we have with each other, this desire for both of us to be in
control. “Wait until I get home, and then I’ll call and let you cum,” I say,
now my voice filled with smug satisfaction. Now I’m the one boasting,
enjoying having this control over her.
“You don’t get to control my orgasms!” she erupts, her voice a shriek,
and I do my best to hide my chuckle, enjoying how crabby she gets when
she is horny. Something to remember for later.
“I don’t. You are your own person. You control your body, but I think
you’re going to listen to me,” I say, maybe a little too surely. She could just
disregard me, just give me the finger and make herself cum, but what is the
fun in that. She knew a punishment was coming. She knew I would do my
best to get back at her, but she didn’t expect it right away, which is why this
is perfect.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she says, her voice a low
whisper, and it’s that moment that I know she will listen. She will wait to
cum until later when I call her back.
“Call you later,” I say with a smile, then quickly add, “No cheating,” I
warn, and then I hang up, leaving her stunned without an orgasm. It isn’t
completely just her punishment though because my cock is still hard in my
slacks, and I didn’t even get to hear her orgasm to get me through the day,
but I’m willing to suffer just to know that she is suffering even more, sitting
on her bed, her cunt dripping on the goddamn sheets, begging to be
touched.

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 Chapter 14

Avery

I stare at my phone, my home screen greeting me, my mouth hanging open.

I cannot believe how that turned, how quickly I went from about to cum,
on the cusp of orgasm, to literally being denied, to staring at my blank
phone, having to wait until Reid gets off work to fucking cum.
I huff, the rebellious part of me wanting to push on, to make myself cum
anyway, because why not? He wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t have to tell him,
but that idea, the idea of going against him, just doesn’t feel right. He’s not
asking me not to cum to actually make me suffer, but to make the
anticipation rise, to make it that much better later. I know this, yet the idea
of going back down to the pool and finishing the rest of my day does not
appeal to me one bit. I don’t want to walk around with an aching pussy,
begging to be fucked. I want to walk around with a glow from a good
orgasm.
I huff again, already knowing what I’m going to do, already knowing
how the rest of this day is going to play out, but not wanting to admit to it. I
want to hold on to the belief that I’m going to cum for just a second longer.
 I right my bikini top, covering my tits, my nipples literally aching to be
touched, begging for more, but I push on, getting out of bed and going to
the bathroom, trying to get rid of some of my wetness because I know it’s
just going to distract me all day. As if it matters, as if anything will take my
mind off the orgasm I was about to have.
I hate to admit it. I really fucking hate it, but this entire situation, him
telling me not to cum, does make it a little more exciting, does make a thrill
run up my spine. I can’t wait for tonight, for the moment that my phone
rings, his call being all the permission I need to finally give my body some
goddamn relief.
My mind races thinking about tonight, about how it’s going to go. If he’s
going to make me wait or tell me to make myself cum the second he picks
up the phone. If he’s going to cum too, or just listen to me, listen to me get
off after waiting so long. It probably won’t even take long, only a few
minutes of playing with myself until I’m exploding, my entire body going
rigid with release.
I feel my cheeks heat. I pass the mirror in the bathroom and glance at
myself, looking at my rosy cheeks, but that’s not the only thing I notice. I
look good. I look happy, like I have some light back in my eyes. I stare at
myself for just a second, basking in it, trying to piece together exactly what
is different, exactly what has changed in the last week, but there’s really
only one thing, and I don’t want to admit what, or who, it is just yet.

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 Chapter 15

Reid

T heguessing
day goes by slow, too fucking slow, and the entire time I’m second-
myself. I don’t know if she finds this as hot as I do, the idea
that she is writhing, horny but can’t do anything about it, begging for
release. I like the idea of her being on edge all day, waiting for my phone
call, waiting for me.
I just hope she feels the same, feeling the thrill of this. I hope she feels
the desire shooting through me and how badly I want this. I’ve never had
this with anyone else, this trust, this ability to do the things I desire, to act
out some of my fantasies. With her, I barely second guess it in the moment
though because I know if she doesn’t want it, we would just talk about it.
We have a phone between us, and that makes it so much easier.
It’s not just that, though, is it? Just the phone? I don’t think so. I think we
just work in a way I never expected. I didn’t think any of this would happen
when I talked to her at the bar. I thought we would be a one-night thing, just
what she expected, and now I’m sitting here, at my desk, counting the
seconds until I can get off work to talk to her again, to make her cum, yes,
but just to hear her voice too.
It isn’t just the phone sex anymore, just the idea of going home and
cumming with her on the phone. It’s the before and the after. It’s the talking
and joking and the texting. It’s all of it. This is so much more than I thought
it was going to be, and although I’m okay with it, okay with the idea of this
being more, I know she is hesitant and has been since the beginning.
But I can feel her start to break, start to show me that she is in this too, in
these feelings. I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know what she needs to
make this easier. It’s so tricky to work all of this out when it’s just ideas. We
aren’t in love, aren’t each other’s person. We just have an idea of something
we could be, and that makes it harder to decide what moves I should make,
especially when I know she is two seconds from walking away from this.
Finally, fucking finally, it hits five, and I am the first one out the door.
Usually, I stay late, trying to get a little extra work done. I like to make the
next morning a little easier but not tonight. Tonight, I want to be home as
soon as possible. I cannot let this punishment be dragged out any longer
because the longer I have to wait to call her, the more it feels like a
punishment for me, not her.

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 Chapter 16

Avery

I lay on my bed, my breathing fucking ragged, as I come down from my

orgasm, neither of us lasted long after waiting all day. The second he
called, I was touching myself, not able to wait another second, and to my
surprise, he was too, just as keyed up as I was, as if he was the one who
didn’t get to cum together, who got pulled right from the edge of an earth-
shattering orgasm.
I’m tired from the orgasm, exhausted, really, but no part of me wants to
get off the phone now that the phone sex is done. I’m trying to soak up
every minute I can, my pride seems to take second place to my desire to be
with him, surrounded by him.
My plane ride is tomorrow, ending my vacation, and I know I should be
upset about that, about having to go home, but the part that I’m dreading,
the part that makes my stomach roll, is the idea that I’m supposed to stop
talking to Reid. I know we don’t have to, that it’s mostly my choice to end
this little phone fling, but the idea of just continuing this, just talking to
him, never getting the real thing, seems like torture. I don’t want to put
either of us through that, no matter how much I may want to, no matter how
tempting it is. I feel like it will just hurt us more, make it more awful when
it doesn’t work out between us. I know I should just rip the bandaid off, but
I have never wanted anything less.
“What are you thinking about over there?” Reid asks, his voice groggy.
Both of us are exhausted after that, even though it is far too early to sleep
yet. Maybe this whole situation is just draining for us. We have given this
our all, given each other so fucking much, and now, tomorrow, we are just
supposed to end it, just supposed to go back to our normal lives as if the
other doesn’t exist. It feels ridiculous, but I’m not sure what other choice
we have.
“Just trying to plan for tomorrow,” I mumble, not really wanting to say
the words, not wanting to speak about tomorrow, about what is supposed to
come. I just want to stay in this moment, with the both of us tired from
orgasms, his sleepy voice greeting me, lulling me to sleep way too early, but
we don’t care because time doesn’t seem to exist when we are on the phone.
I want to stay right here, for the next ten years, giving myself a real chance
to soak this up, to enjoy this. I want to freeze this moment and let both of us
just enjoy each other's company without the stress of tomorrow.
“What time is your flight?” he asks, breaking my little happy bubble, my
dream that this doesn’t have to be the way it is.
“Twelve twenty,” I say lightly, not wanting to talk about it.
“Are you excited to be home?” he asks, his voice light too, like neither of
us know how to discuss this, like a dark cloud just came over both of us,
taking our exhausted mood and making it sad, making it dull.
“Kind of,” I say, my answer truthful. After this week, after all that we
have shared, the truth seems to be the only thing I can give him.
“So… it’s your last night then?” he asks, as if he doesn’t want the answer,
and if I’m honest, I don’t want to give it. I didn’t think about it before. I
didn’t want to, but he’s right. This is my last night, the last night that I’ll
spend in this bed, and that means more than I want it, more than I want to
even admit to myself.
“Yeah,“ I say softly, my voice not feeling strong, the lump in my throat
feeling too big to talk around.
“And you don’t want to keep talking when you’re home?” he asks, his
voice just a hint of hopefulness, just barely, and I swear it breaks me in two,
makes all of my emotion flood out, and I suddenly don’t want to talk about
this, don’t want to even go there because it feels like too much. It feels like
I’m about to break now instead of tomorrow. This feels too much like a
goodbye, and I don’t want it to be. I don’t want to say goodbye to him, to
what we found together.
“I don’t think it would be good to keep going. I’m already too…” I pause,
not knowing if I want to admit this, not knowing if I want to give him every
single thought inside of my head, but I move forward, knowing I need to
say it all, to have no regrets. “Attached. I think it would just hurt me more if
we kept talking, and we had no hope of ever actually seeing each other,” I
say, my voice a quiver, but I don’t care.
I need him to know, to know that this wasn’t just a week-long fling. I
don’t know what it was because it’s only been a week. It's not long enough
for things to blossom the way they could have, but that’s the thing: they
could. We have the potential to become something more. I guess that’s what
we are right now, just potential, but the distance has suffocated it, burnt out
all the embers that could have made a fire.
“You’re attached?” he asks, like he doesn’t fully believe me, and I just
stare for a second at the room around me, taking it all in, this whole
moment.
“Of course I am,” I admit, not knowing how he doesn’t know, not
understanding how my emotions aren’t written all over these goddamn
walls.
“Change your flight,” he blurts out like he needs to rush the words or else
he will hold them back. My eyes go wide, his words not seeming to make
sense inside of my brain. “You have the rest of the weekend off work,
right?” he asks, his voice a fucking plead, and it brings me out of my
silence.
“Yes,” I reply, my voice full of fear and uncertainty. I don’t know what to
do, my mind is a whirlwind as I go over every option, his words only
making this more and more and more confusing.
“Come here instead. Change your flight to here, and then you can fly out
on Sunday,” he says, as if it is simple, as if it is easy.
“I can’t just change my flight,” I say, but I don’t know why I couldn’t.
The most I would lose is money, but I have enough to pay for an extra
flight. It would suck, but I could do it.
“There’s a flight for here tomorrow at nine in the morning. I’ll pay for
your ticket right now, literally just say yes, and I’ll buy it and send you the
details,” he says, his words jumbling together, my entire brain misfiring as I
try to make a decision.
“Did you just look that up?” I ask, not knowing how he knew there would
be a flight tomorrow, how he researched so quickly while my head is still
spinning from the first sentence he said.
“I looked yesterday,” he admits sheepishly, and I can imagine him
scratching the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, his cheeks pinking
with embarrassment. “Look, I know this is insane, and I’m probably acting
crazy, but I want you here in my bed. I want to figure out what the fuck is
going on between us because we both know this wasn’t a fling. But, the
only way we can do that is if we actually try, and I want to try,” he says, and
his words feel so big, feel so scary, but part of me wants to jump, wants to
figure out what the fuck this is, just like he said.
The other part, though, tells me that relationships are scary on their own.
Relationships are hard, two people coming together, much less long
distance. It’s going to be too difficult, going to make me get my heart
broken more than likely.
This part of me screams for me to just hang up, forget this thing with
Reid ever even happened. Forget it all, push it out of memory, and go back
to work like the scared person I am.
But I don't want to be like this anymore. I don’t want to always be
running away from stuff that could be amazing. I don’t know what this is
going to be. I don’t know if I’m even going to like him when I meet him,
but I know, at the very least, I want to figure it out.
“Okay, get me the ticket,” I respond, even though my heart is racing and
my stomach is in knots. I hear him click on his computer, sealing my fate,
and although I’m fucking terrified, I know this is the right choice, no matter
what happens.
The night goes quickly, both of us making plans, him sending me the
info, me looking up the flight details, trying to figure out if I can get home
by Monday, and when we get off the phone, none of my nerves are gone,
only multiplied.
I get the worst sleep of my life, tossing and turning and wondering what
the fuck is going to happen tomorrow, if this is even a good idea, to begin
with, but right under all the worry, every scary emotion I have brewing
inside of me is an excitement that I haven’t felt for fucking years.
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 Chapter 17

Avery

T his doesn’t feel like me, doesn’t feel like something I would normally
do, and although it is making me feel like I’m going to throw up every
second, honestly. I kind of like the mix-up from my normalcy. I’m sick of
doing the same things over and over and over again, sick of being in the
same spot.
I’ve been so against relationships, and I don’t even have a reason for it. I
don’t have anything big in my life that has made me hate the idea of being
with someone like that, but I do. I’m so scared to fully open myself up to
another person. I just haven’t wanted to do it, haven’t wanted to get hurt,
haven’t wanted to put my trust in another person, but Reid, it feels different.
It feels right to trust him with this, to ask him to take care of my trust. He
feels like the kind of guy who can do that and can keep his promises.
All of this doesn’t mean that I don’t want a little reassurance though.
My new flight, the one that Reid sent me details for last night, leaves
earlier than the flight I was on before. I wasn’t supposed to leave the hotel
until check out, at eleven, but instead, I’m up at seven, trying to catch this
new flight with anxiety swimming in my gut. I have to go find Emma and
tell her what is happening, to explain that I’m not going home, not
immediately. And maybe, she will tell me that this is a good idea, that
taking this chance will work out no matter what happens.
I pack up my room slowly, my anxiety taking up all of the space inside of
my head, making me forget little things. I get fully packed, my bag zipped,
before I remember that I have clothes in the drawers. I pack those too, and
then remember to grab my phone charger, which is still sitting plugged into
the wall next to my place on the bed.
I do this a few more times before just doing a big sweep, finding a bunch
of miscellaneous stuff that I didn’t have the brain power to think about. I
feel like a mess, but I keep moving, doing my best to keep moving, to keep
my body in a forward direction, because I know, the second that I stop, I
won't get back up.
I close the door to my hotel room, sending a little goodbye to it inside of
my head, sad to be leaving but happy with what I found there. I didn’t
expect it, didn't think this was going to happen to me, but I may be leaving
with more than I came with.
I knock on my sister's hotel door in a rush, my fist communicating my
frantic energy before I even have a chance to. She opens the door, her hair a
mess, a smug smile on her face.
“I don’t even want to know what you were doing in there,” I say, not
needing another visual of my brother-in-law, as if I don’t already have
enough.
“You really don’t,” she says in a gush. She glances down at my bag, a
hint of confusion coming over her features. “I thought your flight wasn’t
until this afternoon?” she asks, her eyes darting back up to mine.
“I changed my flight,” I say, desperate for her to understand, for her to
know the meaning behind my words before I have a chance to say them, but
she just looks more confused, more unsure of what the fuck is happening.
“Changed your flight? What are you talking about?” she asks, ushering
me to the side, stepping out into the hall in nothing but her silk robe. I don’t
have time to comment about how cute she looks, how well and truly happy
she has seemed since the wedding, because I’m too in my own head, too
bent out of shape about what has happened within the last twelve hours.
“Reid asked me to come see him for the weekend, and I said yes,” I say
with a wince, not trusting that her reaction will be what I need, will be
uplifting and give me the boost that causes me to get on the plane. I’m
already worried I’m going to back out, that I’m going to wait in the airport
and sit until it’s time for my flight back home.
“Oh my god,” my sister exclaims, looking happier than I expected. “Oh
my god, I’m so excited for you!” she says, looking me up and down, her
eyes lighting up.
“You don’t think it’s a bad idea?” I ask, my anxiety spiking even at the
question, at the idea that this could potentially be a bad plan.
“No, I think you’ve been staring at your phone like a love-sick puppy for
the last week. Go get your man,” she says. When my eyes grow wide at her
words, she assures me, “or just go get laid. It doesn’t have to mean anything
yet, but either way, you deserve this. Just go have fun,” she says with a soft
smile, coming closer to me, putting her hand on my arm, comforting me
instantly.
I pull her in for a hug before she has a moment to back away from me.
We aren’t that touchy and feely, but I need this, need my sister to make this
feel a little bit more doable.
“He’s a good guy?” I ask, needing one last shove, one last reassurance
that this isn’t the worst idea of my entire life.
“He’s a very good guy,” she says, the smile never leaving her face, her
excitement for me literally bouncing off the hotel walls. I step back,
knowing I need to leave, knowing I need to catch my flight, but I hesitate,
my feet not wanting to move.
“Call me when you land,” Emma says, stepping back, waiting for me to
move. I don’t think I just act. I nod and start walking, forcing myself to take
it just one step at a time, no matter how fucking scary this is, no matter how
high my nerves are. I’ve wanted this all week, to see him, to have his body
against mine, his voice in my ear. I want it all, and now I’m about to get it.
This isn’t the time to get cold feet; this is the time for action, for movement,
and that’s what I do. I move, even if it makes me feel like I’m going to
throw up.

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 Chapter 18

Avery

I grab my bag, finally, from baggage claim, looking around for the man
that I met just a week ago. I have only seen him once, but I know his
voice like the back of my hand. If only I could have everyone speak for just
a second so I could know exactly where he is.
I grab my bag and roll it with me, glancing around in every direction,
desperately trying to find Reid. My flight was uneventful. I was nervous the
whole time, too scared to sleep or relax, so the entire time, I sat there tense,
waiting for the plane to land, and half hoping we would get lost and never
return to the ground. Someone had asked if I was a nervous flyer, and I just
agreed, it being easier than explaining what was actually happening to me.
I glance around, my head moving in every direction, probably looking
like an idiot, a nervous, terrified idiot.
But then I see him, holding up a stupid fucking sign that says “the girl
who calls me every night” instead of my name. It makes me smile, my
anxiety easing instantly, a familiar feeling taking hold in my chest, as I
remember that the man standing in front of me is the same man who I have
been talking to the last few nights. This is why I came here, because the
way this man makes me feel isn’t like anything I have experienced before.
I want us to be something, something that I know I shouldn’t want. I
should be holding myself back, not allowing myself to feel these things, but
I do. I feel it all, and I want him in more ways than I should.
I approach him slowly as if I could spook him, and that’s exactly how I
feel. I feel like I’m going to push him away with these big feelings, but I
don’t know where else to store them other than right on my sleeve, right for
him to look at, to inspect, to compare to his own feelings.
“Hey,” I mutter as I walk up to him, his dark hair a bit of a mess, like he’s
been running his hands through it. His eyes are bright, a slight nervousness
in them, but the same rich brown from the wedding. I’m half expecting him
to hug me, to touch me, but he doesn’t. He looks ahead, barely making any
eye contact with me. I feel the nervousness in my stomach start to flutter,
unsure of what he is doing. He’s literally holding a sign that could only be
addressed to me, and I remember what he looks like almost too well.
“Sorry, I’m waiting for this gorgeous girl,” he mutters, sending me a wink
as he talks. I start to understand, a smirk playing on my lips, my nerves still
present. I barely keep myself from freaking out, this entire situation is
completely out of my paygrade. “We’ve been talking all week, and I think I
have a little bit of a crush on her, but I’m not sure exactly how she feels,” he
mutters, looking away from me, not making eye contact, and I feel my face
heat, my nerves fluttering in my stomach. “She’s got a filthy mouth on her,
too. Drives me fucking wild,” he says with a smirk, finally looking at me,
finally making eye contact with me, and his gaze sweeps me up and down,
consuming me.
I dressed for this moment specifically, wearing tight leggings and a tight
long sleeve, for him to check me out like his life depends on it, and he does.
He looks me over like he wants to eat me alive, like he could devour me
right here and now if I gave him the chance. He looks at me like I hold all
of the power in this dynamic, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
“She must be really hot if she has you waiting out here for so long,” I
murmur, his eyes still trailing my body, my skin starting to tingle under his
gaze, excited to have his eyes on me for the first time in months.
“God, she is,” he says, continuing to devour me with his eyes. “I was
thinking of asking her to dinner, but I don’t know if it’s too much,” he
mutters, his eyes finally connecting with mine again, vulnerability showing,
and my stomach lurches, my ears ringing as I try to process his words.
“You want to take her to dinner?” I mutter, not sure I’m completely
understanding. “Like a date?” I ask hesitantly, my eyes bouncing around his
face, desperate for a clue on what he means. I feel my nerves flutter, but this
time, with hopelessness, with school girl crush kind of feelings.
“Yeah, like a date. She’s been hesitant to come and see me, but then she
agreed to change her flight, and I can’t help but wonder what that means. I
just don’t want to read too much into our… situation.” he says, his eyes
bouncing down to my body again, hunger taking over, just for a second,
before his eyes connect with mine again.
“What’s your situation?” I ask, my voice small, my breathing coming out
ragged. I hoped he wanted me. I have been desperate for a moment like this
for a little while, but I didn’t expect it to happen at all, much less the second
I stepped off the plane.
“We help each other out,” he says with a suggestive look on his face, his
meaning known instantly. I feel my cheeks redden, thinking of all of the
conversations we’ve had over the last few months, all of the nasty things he
has told me he wants to do to me.
“And now you want to take her on a date?” I ask, my voice stronger, my
confidence coming back, even just barely.
“Yes, but I don’t want to freak her out,” he says, hesitating before
speaking again. “I like her, more than I probably should, and I don’t want it
to get weird if she doesn’t feel the same,” he mutters, his voice going soft,
his vulnerability taking over, and my stomach flutters as I watch him
confess his feelings for me.
I take a deep breath, feeling as if I’m dreaming, as if this couldn’t have
worked out as well as it is. This feels like something I imagined, like it
can’t actually be happening, but it is. He is standing in front of me,
confessing that he feels the same way I do, and now the ball is in my court.
I thought I would be waiting for him to make a move for an embarrassing
amount of time, but it was like he couldn’t hold himself back, like he
needed to say it before he burst, and that only makes me like him even
more.
“I’m sure that she would say yes to dinner,” I say, biting my lip instantly,
my heart beating in my ears, drowning out the background noise of the
airport.
 “For a date? Not just as friends who make each other cum over the
phone?” he asks, hope lighting up his eyes, a small smile taking over his
face. I smile back, not able to stop myself.
“Yes, as a date. I’m sure she feels the same way,” I say, holding eye
contact, trying to make him understand, trying to make him see how badly I
wanted this moment to happen, but I wasn’t sure if he felt the same, wasn’t
sure if jumping off the deep end was going to get me killed or get me saved.
“Thank fucking God,” he mutters, his body moving instantly, the sign in
his hands floating to the ground as he lets it go, darting over to me, his
hands on the side of my face before I have a second to even process it. His
lips are within an inch of mine, but he doesn’t close the gap. He just stares
at me as we share breath, both of us panting like we just made out for
twenty minutes. “I have wanted to do this for a week,” he mutters before his
lips connect with mine, fucking finally.

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 Epilogue

Reid

T heplaceknock on the door catches my attention, and I make sure my tie is in

before speaking, a nervous energy running through me.
“Come on in,” I shout out, keeping my attention on the door, on the
meeting I’m supposed to be having right now, not on the woman sitting
under my desk with my cock in her hand and a devilish smile on her face.
I don’t even have to look down to know her smile, to know exactly how
she looks, the smug smile on her face. She has always been a little siren,
always loved the idea of keeping me on my toes, of keeping me in the palm
of her hand, literally. I might hate it if she didn’t let me do the same to her,
control her body, her orgasms, whenever I want, trusting me with all of the
control.
Avery flew in last night, just for today, Friday, and the weekend. We don’t
see each other as much as we should, as much as we would both like, but it
doesn’t matter. We just enjoy each other’s company. We enjoy being around
each other when we can, and we miss the hell out of each other when we
can’t.
 We make up for it too, over the phone, in person, doing all of the nasty
sexual things you can think of, desperate to soak each other up as much as
we possibly can. Although now it isn’t with an end in mind. We’ve been
going steady for a few months now, and I don’t see that changing. I don’t
see either of us getting sick of this or not finding it worth it.
That was my worry in the beginning. Relationships are hard–long
distance ones even more so. We were set to fail or grow apart, but I think
something about the way we found each other, that we started this whole
thing over the phone, made it a little easier. We already knew what was
going to come if we decided to try a relationship. We knew the struggles.
We knew how hard it would be to only be able to talk on the phone. We
knew, and we still decided we should try.
“Hey Reid, what’s up?” John asks, poking his head into the room. I wave
him over, motioning to the seat in front of my desk. I ignore the presence by
my legs, the heat coming from Avery.
She is kneeling under my desk, out of eyesight, with my hard cock in her
hand, doing these little fucking strokes that she knows I goddamn love. She
is the devil, I swear to God. She always knows exactly what I need, always
teasing me in a way that is the most perfect torture, and as punishment, I do
the same fucking thing to her, loving every minute of it.
“I just wanted to talk about the expense reports for a moment with you,” I
say, keeping my voice steady, doing my best not to show that I’m currently
getting jerked off under the desk by my girlfriend, trying to make sure he
doesn’t know.
I could get in so much fucking trouble for this, probably fired, but when
Avery brought it up and asked if that was something we could do, I couldn’t
say no. I couldn’t tell her it was too risky. She looked up at me with those
fucking puppy dog eyes, and I was putty in her goddamn hands, yet again.
“Oh, sure. Does everything look okay?” John asks, sitting down, putting
his elbows on his knees, looking up at me with concern in his brow.
I bring the sheet closer to him, showing him the line that doesn’t look
right, that throws off all of my other forms, and he nods, taking it from me
and looking at it a little closer.
“If that is correct, then the rest of my forms are messed up, and then we
need to go back and redo them,” I say, still keeping my voice steady, doing
my fucking best, but she is still jerking me off, going so fucking slow, too
fucking slow.
 We have been together long enough now, and I feel like I know her, know
all the ways she acts, all the things that drive her wild, and I’m shocked she
isn’t trying to throw me off my game. She is being surprisingly nice, letting
me keep my bearings, only giving me small strokes, only teasing me,
something she usually doesn’t do.
Of course, the second I think this, the second the thought crosses my
mind, she puts her mouth on the tip of my cock, and sucks, giving the head
of my cock all of the suction it needs, and I feel pleasure wrap around me,
taking me hostage.
I hold back a groan, needing to keep my face neutral, but she starts
rubbing her tongue on the underside of the head, pulling out every stop,
trying to fucking ruin me. I push one of my nails into the meat of my palm,
needing something to distract me, needing something to stop the pleasure
from coursing through me.
She knows me too fucking well, and if she isn’t careful, she is going to
make me cum. Actually, if I had to guess, that’s her goal, to make me cum
while one of my workers is in the fucking room, to make me cum and try
my best not to get caught, not to get fucking fired. She is playing a
dangerous game, and I shouldn’t find it this hot. It shouldn’t be turning me
on more, but it is.
The idea of having to hold myself back and keep myself from cumming
while having a conversation, no one even knowing what is going on other
than me and Avery, makes this entire situation so much fucking hotter.
“Do you think this could be a mistake?” John asks, looking up at me,
confusion written all over his face. Avery licks the tip of my cock, swirling
her tongue around it, and it is so fucking hard to keep still, to keep from
making a sound, because she is fucking ruining me under there, giving me
the best head I’ve ever gotten, and of course, I gotta keep quiet.
“I looked into it and found the receipt, but maybe we should ask Anthony
first and see what he has to say. It may still be a mistake,” I say, keeping my
voice steady, barely a waver.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll bring this to him. Can I have a copy of the
receipt?” he asks, and then Avery takes my cock to the back of her fucking
throat, holding back a gag, just fucking barely. We both know the sound
would be too much and would give us away.
I reach down, opening one of my drawers, finding him the copy of the
receipt, and then I place my hand on Avery’s head, holding her down,
forcing her to take my cock deeper. She is testing me, forcing me to take
this pleasure, forcing me to keep a straight face, to keep from groaning, and
if she is going to be like that, I’m going to steal the air from her lungs,
making her take my cock as deep as she can.
I let go after a few seconds, giving her air, not wanting to push her too
hard, wanting to take care of her still, and she pops off of my cock,
probably breathing hard. I feel my dick twitch at the thought of her chest
moving with her breaths, her big tits moving as she pulls in air.
God, I need John to leave right fucking now. I don’t know how much
longer I can take of this, of keeping quiet, of doing my best not to make a
fucking sound, not to make an expression. It’s about ten times harder than I
thought it was going to be, and when it comes to Avery, I am not fucking
strong enough for this.
I hand him the receipt, silently begging him to be on his way. This was
exciting before, but I didn’t realize how badly I would want it to be over…
how badly I would need John to get the fuck out of my office so I could
find some goddamn relief.
He lifts himself from the chair, looking over the piece of paper I just
handed him, and for a second, I think I’m going to get lucky, think he is
going to leave without even looking back at me, but instead, he turns
around, looking me in the eyes just as Avery starts up again, swirling her
fucking tongue around the head of my cock, my hips jerking under my
desk. I do my best not to show a single emotion, even though I am itching
to be down her throat again, itching to be inside of her, one way or another.
“Is Avery coming down this weekend?” he asks, our relationship being
known across the office. We got mixed messages when I started to tell
people I was seeing someone. Some of the older folks, who have worked
here since they were my age, told me that it wouldn’t work. Long distance
never did, and I would be better off settling for someone here, like their
granddaughter, perhaps. But, the rest of the staff was cool and gave me their
best wishes.
My boss was the one who stood out, though. Because of this news, which
seemed to somehow be the top of the office gossip for fucking weeks, I
knew I had to talk to my boss about working my schedule out a little bit. I
knew I would be asking for more time off for long weekends, and I wanted
him to know why. I wanted him to understand that I’m just trying to see the
woman who stole my goddamn heart, and he said he understood, said he
met his wife when he was on vacation and couldn’t get her out of his head.
He said he would respect whatever I need, but if my work starts to go
downhill, he will have no issue calling me out on it.
I, of course, was thrilled with that response, with the idea that this isn’t all
in our heads, isn’t some fantasy we are playing out. I mean, I already knew
that. I know that every second I look into Avery’s eyes, or get a text from
her, my heart races, but it is nice to have that affirmation, to have someone
else’s success story to reassure me.
“Yeah, she’s c-coming down this weekend,” I say, slipping for the first
time, my voice wavering as Avery takes my cock to the back of her throat,
fucking ruining me with that movement. Her mouth feels good, too fucking
good. I’m becoming more and more addicted to her, wanting her constantly,
pissed anytime she has to leave, anytime I have to leave.
Long distance works for us, we fight to make it work because what we
have is just too good, but most days, I fucking hate it, hate being away from
her, hate having to say goodbye, hate having to go weeks on end without
sliding into her tight pussy, watching her tits bounce in front of me while
she rides my cock.
“My wife wants to meet her. We should get drinks or something,” he
says, shrugging like it wasn’t his idea, and I smile lightly, trying my best
not to clench my teeth, even though every muscle in my body is tensing at
once right now. I’m close, too fucking close, and Avery knows it.
She can sense it in my body, and I know she wants me to cum, wants me
to fill her mouth full of my load, but I hold strong, trying like fucking hell
to keep myself from falling off of that edge.
“Yeah, text me about it. We can figure out plans,” I say, motioning to the
door, probably rudely, but I don’t care. I need him gone. Right. Now. “Close
the door on your way out, yeah?” I ask, adding a smile, giving him a nod of
appreciation, anything for him to take this the right way and just leave my
office before I cum in front of him.
“You got it,” he says with an easy smile, and he walks out, the door
closing shut behind him, clicking into place.
I wait, one, two, three, before sliding my chair back, looking down at
Avery with a ‘seriously?’ look, and she just giggles, the sound moving
through my office, and it shouldn’t turn me on more, shouldn’t make my
wet cock twitch, but it does. Everything she does seems to make my cock
react.
 She licks her lips, still under my desk, waiting for my command, waiting
for me to tell her what to do next, and I love the power. I love the way she
gives it to me, how she wants to please me. Part of me wishes she would
misbehave by doing something that I don’t like, just so I could bend her
over my desk, slap her ass until it is fucking red, claiming her in the best
way possible, but I hold back, knowing we both need relief right now.
“Bend over the desk,” I say, needing her right now and not wanting to
waste any more time. I can’t take it, having her this close to me, not being
inside her. This is what she has done to me, made me a fucking animal.
She obliges instantly, rising from her knees, bending over my desk,
putting her ass on display for me. She is still fully clothed, which is a
goddamn shame, so I walk slowly toward her, needing to feel her skin
against my own.
I rub her ass, teasing her, needing her to be as on edge as I am, needing
her to be right there with me. I feel crazy with this lust, insane actually, and
I want her to feel it too, want her to be right on the cusp of completely
breaking apart, just for me.
She whines in the back of her throat, moving her ass against my hand,
begging for more, and I listen, not wanting to play games when this is what
we both want and when we are both so fucking needy for this.
I pull her leggings down, leaving them by her ankles, looking at her ass in
her black thong, loving the way it covers only the most intimate parts of
her. I push down on her back, needing her to bend more, needing more of a
view, needing more and more and more.
I pull her thong down, wanting her to be exposed, needing to see her
pussy, and the second it is gone, she starts to fidget, her body knowing what
is coming, her pussy knowing that my cock is going to be inside of her
soon, and her body is begging me, so desperate.
I stare down at her, just for a second, getting my fill, needing to see every
inch. I don’t have the time to take this slow, to make her beg, and even if I
wanted to, I need her to stay quiet, need her to keep ahold of herself just
enough to keep from screaming out. I’m still not trying to get fired, no
matter how much I keep pushing.
“Look at your cunt glistening for me,” I murmur, watching the light shine
on her pussy as she practically drips onto my desk, her desire so obvious.
“This all just from sucking my cock?” I ask, already knowing the answer
but wanting to hear it from her mouth, wanting her to talk dirty to me.
 I think she conditioned me this way, made me desperate for her voice,
always yearning for it. I think since we started over the phone, with only
our voices to guide us, to show each other emotions, now I crave it,
constantly.
“You…” she starts, stopping, probably biting her lip, just like she always
does when she hesitates, and I wait, so fucking patient, giving her the time.
I’ll always give her the time, give her a moment to find her courage,
because I can’t stomach the idea of not hearing the rest of her sentence.
“You pushed my head down,” she says lightly, her voice soft, like she isn’t
sure of her words, and I’m blown back to when we started talking on the
phone, her uncertainty, her fear, and I’m suddenly aware how much more
confident she has gotten in us, how much more comfortable with me she is
now.
“You liked that?” I ask, curious, my cock literally aching to do it again, to
push her head down until she is struggling for air, begging me to let go,
until she is choking on my cum and gasping for breath.
“God, yes,” she says, backing her ass up, just enough for her to make
contact with my cock, just enough for the heat of both of our bodies to meld
together, and I groan, loving the way her skin feels against mine, loving
having her close to me.
I slide the tip of my cock through her pussy, needing to move this along,
needing more, needing everything she is willing to give me. She wines
again, so needy, so desperate, so fucking vocal. I adore it, love every sound
that comes out of her mouth, and so I do it again, just sliding my cock up
and down, teasing her tight fucking hole, and she whimpers again, making
my balls tighten instantly, my orgasm already too fucking close.
I give in, finally, not able to last another moment, and slowly slide my
cock inside of her, so fucking slowly, making her feel every inch, making
her feel every second of it. I watch as her head falls forward onto the desk,
her body tensing under the pleasure, and I bask in it, loving the way I can
influence her, loving the way I can see her pleasure just based on her
movements.
“God, you’re fucking soaked,” I say, feeling how wet she is. My cock
slides in so easily, and I fuck her, slamming into her tight cunt, desperate for
us both to cum. “You gotta be quiet, okay?” I ask while slamming my cock
into her again, grinding against her just the way she loves. I bring my hand
down under her, bringing my fingers to her clit, rubbing small circles.
 She whimpers, bringing her arm in front of her face, covering herself,
trying her best to stay quiet while I work her body just how I know she
likes. I take everything I know, and I use it all, doing exactly what she was
doing to me just minutes ago. I want her to struggle to keep quiet. I want
her to hold back a scream.
Half of the fun of this is that we could get caught and that someone could
hear us. Someone could hear me sliding into her, hear our skin slapping
together as I fuck her endlessly, could hear her little whimpers as she begs
for more, and as she whines for me to make her cum.
She is breathing heavy and using all of her focus on not being loud, on
keeping her noises to herself, and I fucking love it. I knew it from the first
moment I had her moaning on the phone. I was an addict to her moans, an
addict to the sounds she makes, and now I’m just constantly chasing them,
wanting more, needing more.
“You gotta stop. I’m gonna cum,” she says, wiggling around, trying to get
me to move my hand, trying to get me to let her off easy. She wants me to
stop because she doesn’t think she can hold back and stay quiet, but I don’t
care. If I don’t feel her cum on my cock, I’m going to die, going to combust
right here. I need her orgasm. I need it more than I need to breathe.
“Then you’re going to need to be quiet, huh?'' I ask, a mock tone of voice.
I love the way she tries to wiggle out of my grasp. A whimper escapes her
lips while she tries. She is doing her best not to cum, trying like hell to get
away from this, but I refuse to let her. Not after what happened under my
desk. She tried so hard to make me cum with my co-worker right in front of
me.
“No, I can’t,” she groans a little too loudly. I place my free hand over her
mouth, keeping her quiet. I feel her bite into the palm of my hand, and I
circle her clit harder, faster, needing to feel her clench around my cock, and
she does, her orgasm hitting her full force.
Her legs start shaking, her body twitching against me, wanting more and
less friction at the same time, and I can’t help myself, can’t stop myself
from cumming inside of her, from orgasming right there with her, falling
over the edge while she is clenching around my cock fucking squeezing me.
I slow my circles of her clit, trying not to overstimulate her, and we both
do our best to catch our breath after our orgasms. She slumps against the
desk when I let her mouth go, making a fucking mess of the paper sitting
there underneath her, but I’ll deal with that later. I don’t care, not when she
is here, in my office, in front of me.
I pull out of her, my cock sticky with my cum, and grab a tissue, cleaning
myself up. I tuck my cock away and sit back on my chair. I pull her pants
up, not bothering to clean her, to wipe my cum from her pussy, loving the
idea of it dripping down into her underwear, of her walking around with my
seed just sitting there all day, keeping her soaking wet.
I bring her back against me, my hand against her torso, and set her in my
lap, letting her curl against me. She sighs, her back against my front, and I
just hug her, enjoying her being here. I don’t want her to leave again. I don’t
want her to go back home. I want her here with me, constantly. Long
distance isn’t a deal breaker, but it has made me a desperate man who can’t
ever seem to get enough.
“When is your flight?” I ask, not knowing if I want the answer. She
always has to leave so quickly, never staying for more than a few days,
never giving me enough time. I do the same thing, though. Both of us are so
busy, our work calling for us. I want time to stop, for us to just have
unlimited amounts of time together before it starts again. I want to sit in this
bubble and pretend that the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
“Sunday,” she replies, and I groan, earning a giggle from her. The
weekend doesn’t feel like enough time with her. It never does, but I know,
one of these days, we are going to figure something out, going to find a way
to make this work, and going to move our relationship forward. We love
each other too much for it to be any other way.
“In that case, give me an hour, and I’ll leave early,” I murmur against her
back, feeling the heat of her against me, enjoying every second of it.
“Okay,” she says happily, and I know I should get to work, that the
sooner I let her go, the sooner I give her space to get comfortable on the
couch in my office, the faster we can get out of here and go home, and I can
take her to bed, but I just need another moment, need to feel her against me
for just a little while longer.
“I talked to my job the other day,” she says, her voice low, just barely
nervous. I feel my curiosity piqued, and I hold her a little tighter.
“Hm?” I ask, wanting more but not wanting to push too hard, wanting to
give her the time and space to get it out.
“They have a location here in the city and they said they would be open
to a transfer,” she says, a whisper, her voice barely making its way to my
ears, but the second it does, my spine straightens, my entire body ridged, as
I turn to her, needing to look in her eyes, to see if she is serious.
“Are you fucking with me?'' I ask, my voice so serious. I need to know,
need to know if I could actually have her here, have her in the city more
often, have her under my roof, living with me, like I’ve always dreamed of.
“No. It would be a while before a job would open up here, and I would
still probably be going back and forth between locations, but I could at least
spend more of my time here,” she says with a half-smile, her expression
guarded, like she doesn’t know how I’m going to respond.
I don’t say anything, just crush her body against mine, sighing with relief,
so fucking happy, so fucking excited.
“God, I fucking love you,” I say, and she giggles against me, the vibration
of her chest moving through my body too. I keep her close, not wanting her
to pull away. I glance down at her, keeping out bodies tight together, and
kiss her, savoring the taste of her mouth, for just a moment, my heart too
fucking happy. I’m worried it is going to burst. I don’t want to pull away
but after a few moments, I do, staring into her eyes again.
“You’re okay with this?” she asks, going back to uncertainty. I stare at
her, fucking amazed, so blessed beyond belief, in awe of the fact that this
woman, who has stolen my heart, is going to be here, even just part-time.
“I have literally never been happier,” I say, the biggest fucking grin on
my face, my entire body vibrating with happiness. She crushes her body
against me again, both of us just sitting there for a few moments, content.
“I love you too,” she whispers against my ear, and I’m so fucking grateful
for her. I am grateful that she used my number that night, that she tried. I
know how scared she was of a relationship, but she gave me a chance to
show her exactly what we could be, and now here we are, moving forward
together, exactly how I want it to be.

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 Books By This Author

Done Right (She Teaches Him #1):

What happens when Emma, who just wants to be done right, meets Finn,
who doesn't know what he's doing?

Taught Right (She Teaches Him #2):

What happens when Joey, who just wants to be taught right, hires Ava, who
knows exactly how to teach him?

F*cked Right (She Teaches Him #3):

What happens when Jace, who has never done this before, gets f*cked right
by Callie, who knows exactly what she's doing?

Greedy:

What happens when the best kind of revenge, is fucking your ex-boyfriend's
business rival?

White Christmas:

Their parents may be best friends, but Autumn and Theo have been enemies
since birth. So what happens when they get snowed in at a hotel… and
there’s only one bed?

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 About This Author

Rhianna Burwell is an Amazon best seller in erotica. Author of the Before

series and the She Teaches Him series, available on Kindle Unlimited, she
takes pride in writing spicy, realistic, and deeply satisfying romance and
erotica. Rhianna currently resides in Minnesota, where—when she’s not
writing erotica hot enough to melt all the winter snows—she enjoys curling
up with her cat, avidly watching Grey’s Anatomy, and reading—her current
fav is alien romance. Rhianna loves to hear from readers, who can connect
with via any of her social media links.
Instagram: @rhiannaburwellauthor
Tiktok: @rhiannaburwellauthor

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