Page 47 of A Ballad of Betrayal and Beauty

My eyelids flutter closed. “Mmm, yes.”

“How long do you think you could stand it? Waiting naked for me. Waiting for me to touch you. Waiting with nothing but the sensation of pressure on your nipples.”

“You wouldn’t torture me like that, would you?”

“It wouldn’t be torture. Maybe I’d sit and watch you try not to squirm. Maybe I’d have a drink while I watched you.”

“Don’t leave me too long. I’m desperate to be touched.”

The sound of his bed rustling comes through the speaker. “You know what I want from you before I touch you, right?”

My skin is flushed and tight, and like a runaway train, I can’t stop from falling down into this rabbit hole with him. “I’ll do anything you want me to do, Baby.”

“I want you to beg.”

Heat pulses between my legs and an involuntary gasp drags past my lips. “Yes. I’ll beg for it. I need to be touched so badly. Please touch me.”

He tsks through the phone. “Hmm, no I don’t think I will. I’m not convinced you really want me to.”

My fingers clench on the arm rest of my chair, sweat trickling down my back. “Please, Baby. I’ve been so good for you.”

A sigh. “What would you let me do to you?”

“Anything.”

“Would you let me use your mouth again?”

I breathe. “Yes.”

“Would you let me fuck you up against the wall?”

“Yes.Yes.”

“What if I wanted to tie you up? Play with you all night until you’re an incoherent mess?”

My clit pulses and my back arches in my chair.

“Please, Baby. Please! I can’t take it anymore.”

Shit, I’m being so loud.I glance around, terrified someone will look over and find me face flushed and gripping the phone like my life depends on it.

“I’d go slow, you know,” he rasps. “Starting at your ankles, my touch light against that gorgeous skin. Could you stand still, sweetheart?”

“It’s so hard to stay still. Your touch is so good.”

“Fuck, your thighs are soaked. What a desperate little whore.”

“I am. I am desperate. Please just touch my pussy.”

“What are you?” he growls.

My lips part and I throw my head back as my stomach clenches. “I’m your whore, Baby. Your filthy, desperate whore. Now please, touch me!”

“What a good slut. I’ll fuck you with my fingers for being so good.”

I can’t see Joel but I can visualize a tall, hard body kneeling before me with dark brown hair, his hand parting my dripping thighs, and as if he’s really here I shudder at the thought of him sliding his fingers inside of me. “Oh, god!”

“So sensitive,” he coos. “Fuck my fingers, sweetheart. Show me how desperate you are for it.”

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