Page 97 of Ripple Effect

She gives me a shy look, tracing a finger over my chest. “Think of it as immersive role-play.”

A grin stretches across my face. “Well, can’t argue with that.”

I stand from the couch, setting Bentley up with a few toys and a fresh bowl of water. Then I grip Daisy’s hand, immediately leading her back to my room.

In some ways, this all feels strange—the idea of finally inviting someone else behind the curtain. Yet, the thrill rushing through me pushes past any reservations I might hold. Because Daisy’s not just anyone.

She’s my person.

And maybe this is exactly what I need to bridge that gap. To prevent the dissociation from creeping in while I switch over to Echo. Someone who understands me, who’s willing to support me in whatever way she can.

As soon as we step inside my room, she turns to me, curious and shy. “So, where do we start?”

“Well, I have a few different scripts I’ve been toying with ...”

Her smile grows. “Lead the way.”

I pull out my laptop and open up a dedicated folder, scanning through my list of rough ideas. One in particular catches my eye, entitledLate Night Call.

“What do you think about this one?”

She reads over my shoulder, lips pursed. “Mm, I like it.”

“Alright, then.”

I gulp low in my throat, moving toward my recording equipment, adjusting the settings to capture the perfect sound. While I set up, Daisy takes a seat on my bed, crossing her legs in front of her. It’s an innocent act in and of itself, but considering the circumstances, it sets my mind on fire.

“You ready?” I ask. And when Daisy nods her confirmation, I clear my throat, settling into character. “Hi, baby,” I say into the microphone, affecting a sultry tone. “I was hoping you’d answer my call.”

Daisy watches me intently, her eyes roaming over my body as I deliver the lines.

“Did you miss me?” I ask, speaking to my imaginary audience. My voice is raspy, a faux deepness carrying through. But Daisy easily plays along, nodding as if the question was meant just for her.

“Are you in bed, baby? Wishing I was there with you?”

Daisy swallows thickly and pulls her plump bottom lip between her teeth, nibbling on it until it’s nice and swollen. She silently moves back on my bed, adjusting the pillows into their perfect place. And once she’s propped up, she removes her scrunchie, golden hair fanning out behind her.

“I miss you, too,” I say roughly, nostrils flaring as Daisy shimmies out of her pants, dropping them onto the floor by my nightstand. “What are you wearing right now?”

Daisy removes her shirt next, followed by her lace bra, and I have to bite down on my fist to keep from groaning out loud. Her perfect tits spill out, those pert, rosy nipples staring straight at me. My eyes travel up and down her flawless form, my chest throbbing.

“Ah, you took your clothes off for me?” I ask, finally releasing a needy whimper. “Fuck, I really need to see you.”

Daisy slides out of her panties and kicks them aside, still watching me hungrily. I can barely get the words out now, gasping into the microphone.

“Touch yourself for me,” I say, praying to God that Daisy will continue following my lead. “Tell me how fucking wet you are. Tell me how your pussy’s dripping for me.”

She swipes a finger through her folds, her gaze burning into mine. She parts her lip, sucking the finger into her mouth, and my cock strains to break free. “You’re so wet, aren’t you? Been soaking your panties all day, just thinking about me.”

A low growl rumbles in my chest as Daisy nods, plunging a finger into her tight heat. God, do I want that to be me—my fingers, my tongue, my cock, any part of me she’ll allow.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there with you,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “But I can help you feel better. Just do what I say, okay?”

Daisy swipes a finger over her clit, spreading her legs for me, the wetness seeping onto her inner thighs. I groan into the microphone, blowing out a strained breath, and say, “Take two fingers and push them inside of you. Pretend they belong to me.”

Daisy follows my command, her head falling back onto the pillows. I can tell she wants to make a sound, struggling through the pleasure, but she’s doing her best to stay quiet for me.

“Does that feel good?” I ask, the question rumbling out. “Mm, I bet it does. But not as good as my cock. Only I know how to fill you up, how to please your needy little cunt.”

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