Page 48 of Best Man Speaking

But Jesus Christ, why is this question so fucking hot?

I whisper my reply, desire crawling through me. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” Apparently, there are no bounds as to how turned on this man can make me. “Push your panties to the side for me, Hallie. Tell me how wet you are, how soft and slick you are for me.”

I nod, doing as he asks, and then remember he can’t see me. I need to speak. “I don’t want to describe it. I wish you could feel it. I want your fingers inside me, for you to press down on me as I come.”

“Run your fingertips up and down, Hallie. I bet it feels better now that you’re touching skin. I want you to feel how wet you are, how good this is going to be. If I were there, I’d make sure you were drenched, covering my fingers before I pushed them inside you slowly, so slowly.”

With my eyes closed, it’s all I can do to keep my pace slow, to continue the edging I’d started. And I hope he knows I’m listening because I can’t speak; I can only breathe. While I may have started this game, I’m so happy to have handed the control to him.

“I want you to slowly press one of your fingers inside. Just the tip to start, Hallie, and then slowly ease it in. Move it in and out gently. Just the one, babe.” He pauses, and I can only assume he knows I’m following his instructions closely. “I want you to pretend it’s me, that I’m pushing inside you, getting you ready for what’s next. I’d make sure your breasts weren’t neglected. Would you want me to touch them, Hal?”

It’s more of a moan than a fully formed word when I say, “Yesss.”

“Tell me how. I want to know, Hallie. I want you to use your other hand to touch your breasts while you fuck yourself.”

I could come from his words alone, my mind a haze as I start to speak. “They’re heavy, so soft and heavy. I want you to touch them and squeeze them.”

I do as he says, using my hands to bring myself closer to climax, a mix of his voice and his instructions making my breath come in short gasps.

“Are you close, Hallie? I want you to add another finger and play with your clit. Can you do that for me? You’re so fucking sexy, more beautiful than I could’ve ever remembered.” Through the fog of my own desire-addled brain, I can hear him, the sound of skin on skin, of the stroking of his large hand up and down. I push two fingers inside myself, using my thumb to rub my clit,and still, if he’d give me more, I’d take it. “I’m hard just thinking about you touching yourself and getting yourself off. I want to hear you come for me. I want to hear you now so next time I can focus completely on your face, even as you scream your release.”

It’s these final words he releases in a growl that push me over the edge. I arch back into my pillow as my body peaks. I can no longer hear; all I can do is feel as sensation rushes me, heat threading through my limbs. And I let go.

My skin’s hot, heartbeat racing as I come down from my high, and I return to my senses, becoming aware of Marcus’s breathing on the other end of the line. I’m not embarrassed, not by a mile, but I also have no idea what to say in this situation. Somehow, “Thank you?” doesn’t seem quite right.

My head still not fully screwed on postorgasm, I open my mouth and let the words tumble out, hoping for the best. “Well…that’s so much better with outside involvement.”

The laugh I get from Marcus is choked. “Was that the first time you’ve had phone sex?”

I stare up at my ceiling, sated and playful. “Hmm, not exactly. It’s just the first time the other person’s known about it.”

“What do you mean?”

There isn’t jealousy in his tone, but there’s a definite edge to his curiosity. I decide to forgo thinking about the consequences.

“Well, it’s just you never noticed when we were younger.”

I stretch under my sheets before curling on my side.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what I’m hinting at.

It thrills me that this dirty little secret of mine has remained unknown for so long—until the time of my choosing, of course.

I smile to myself. “It means you never noticed I was touching myself while I was on the phone with you when we were younger. That when we were on the phone for hours at a time, I’d use your voice to get myself off.”

Silence greets me on the other end of the line. “Are you fucking with me?”

“Not in the slightest,” I respond, thinking back on all the times I’d lain in bed on the phone with him, letting a hand slip slowly down beneath my pajama bottoms. Or to the first time I’d improvised and purchased a hairbrush for the shape of the handle alone, just to sneak it under the covers with me.

“So when I was a teenager, horny as hell, dying to be inside of you, you were on the phone to me, making yourself come?” he asks on a groan, voice slightly muffled.

I can only imagine that he’s just dragged a hand down his face in disbelief.

I laugh. “Well, when you put it like that, it just makes me sound selfish.”

“Hal, there is not a selfish bone in you, and you just topped your own spot on my favorite wet dream list.”

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