Page 40 of Ardently Yours

“I know, sweetheart. It’s almost time.”

I bite my lip as I wait.

“There’s another part of you I’ve never seen. Are you smooth or are you all-natural?”

I hadn’t considered that Arden might have a preference. I’ve had the same hygiene routine since I was a teenager. “I trim and stay neat with a razor, but I’m not . . . no. Do you prefer waxed?”

“I preferyou, however you are, that’s what I want. That’s what has pre-cum dripping onto my balls before I’ve even touched my cock,” he says.

Arden has impeccable manners. He rarely swears, even in emails, and I had this image of him saying, “I’m having a graphic fantasy about your body,” and me responding, in so many words with, “I, too, am fantasizing about you.” I hadn’t considered that he’d actuallybegraphic, despite every single conversation leading to this moment hinting that hewould if he could.

In one telephone conversation, I’ve leveled up my understanding of who this man is and how much we’re missing because of how limited our conversation is. Emails only go so far, especially when we have to be careful.

Everything about the way he’s talking to me has me stretching and squirming and wanting more. At the same time, he’s pushing against the barrier in my mind that says, “Good girls don’t.”

“No toy yet. Use your fingers to glide between your lower lips. Make an inverted V and spread them wide.”

Another sound escapes me, as I do as instructed.

“You can touch your clit with your fingertips now. Is it swollen, or do we need to work it until it’s stiff and your opening is soft and slippery?”

“Arden, I don’t . . . I don’t . . .” I don’t know what I mean to say when I cry out his name. All I know is I’ve never been so aroused, yet somehow freaked out at the same time.

He pauses. “Do you remember what I said? We can shift gears and talk about something else. We’ll go back to exactly what we were.”

“I don’t want that.”

“Honey, you sound conflicted.”

“I don’t know how to explain. I want this so much, but part of me feels like I’m wrong for wanting it. I know I’m not. I don’t want to stop. Not at all. The things you’re saying are making me really horny, Arden.” The last words leave me on a whisper. I want to sink into the tub and stay under water forever. “Oh, God.”

“Is it your voice telling you this is wrong or someone else’s?”

“I . . . Not me.” I blow out a breath. “I think I needed to hear that. Definitely don’t want those people sneaking into my head right now.”

“You’re brave and kind and sexy as hell. Andyou are good, Charlotte. I’ll say it as many times as you need me to,” he says.

I take a deep breath. “I’ve already messed this up, but please don’t stop. I’ll call it off if it isn’t working for me. Please.”

He’s silent. Then, voice gruff, he says, “You’re doing beautifully, sweetheart. Touch your clit, Charlotte. Imagine it’s my tongue. How does it feel?”

I drop my hand back between my thighs. “Good. Really good.”

“Slide your fingers down to that sweet little opening. Are you slick?”

My abdomen clenches as I follow his directions. “Yes.”

“The bath will wash some of that away, but you’re going to bring a little of that honey up to your clit and play.”

Water splashes as I move my hand, and I hear the distinct sound of Arden touching himself. It’s not gentle. Maybe that’s why I can hear it. If he were less desperate, I’d never know he was working himself as he thinks of me doing the same.

“It’s time for the vibrator, Charlotte. Bring it down and touch yourself. Find the setting that feels good. The one that makes you want to roll your eyes back in your head.”

“Okay. I . . . did it.”

“What setting did you choose? Do you like it gentle or do you need it rough?”

“I . . . medium high. Not all the way.” Tension coils inside me, like a rubber band twisting and twisting, ready to snap.

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