Page 43 of The Billionaire's One-Night Stand Nanny
I couldn’t help myself. “Are you?”
“I’m in my silk nightgown,obviously,” came her response, and I chuckled. “I’m in my pajamas, yes,” she said.
“What kind of pajamas?”
“Matching. Dark green. Not silk. A little tank top and shorts.”
My eyes closed to better picture her. Smooth skin and round, firm breasts, and delicate, dark green straps I’d pull down off her shoulders–
“What happens next?”
Right. “She’s thinking of the– thehero,” I said. “He touched her. He’d moved a piece of her hair from in front of her shoulder, and she can still feel where his knuckles were. Just below her collarbone.”
“She touches herself there?” she whispered into the phone.
“Yes,” I said. “Do it, Flora. Can you feel it?” I heard her soft hum. “And then her hand moves lower,” I said, “over her silk nightgown. There are silk ribbons sewn into it that are coming undone. Over her breast. Her–” What had the book called it? It had seemed silly at the time. “Herbudded peak.”
It didn’t seem silly now, with the memory of Flora’s tight nipple against my tongue, with the vision of her, her hand moving over her dark green pajamas, alone in her bedroom.
“It feels good?” I asked. “To touch yourself there?”
“Not as good as your mouth,” she said, and I groaned. My hand gripped my cock tight, not moving. This was for Flora right now, not me.
“Lady Louisa is imagining it’s him. She’s touching her nipples through the nightgown, but it’s not enough. She’s feeling…warm, andstrange.”
“They didn’t have sex ed back then,” Flora said, and I laughed, surprised.
“No, I suppose not.”
“Or phones,” she said. “Good thing we live now.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Do you want me to keep going?”
“I’ll beso madif you stop,” she said. “I feel all…warm, andstrange.”
She was teasing me, but it didn’t matter.
“Fuck, Flora,” I groaned through laughter. “You are…” I wasn’t sure what.Infuriatinglysexy. Was that a thing?
“What happens next?” she asked.
“She runs her hands down her stomach, down to the hem of her nightgown,” I said, the mental images of Lady Louisa and Flora blurring together until it was Flora lying back against soft goose-feather pillows, lit by candle- and firelight, delicate silk obscuring her form… “She lifts it up above her hips, around her waist, so that she can touch her skin. She cups her breasts in her hands, imagining it’s him.”
A rustling on the other end of the line made my cock throb against my hand and I pumped it, once, through my lounge pants. I was so fucking hard, and all from a book and a phone call.
“And then?”
“And then the feeling is between her legs,” I said, “and she reaches down between them, and–”
“She’s wet,” Flora said, and I couldn’t take it any more. I shoved down my pants and boxer briefs below my balls and grasped at my cock, stroking myself: slow, smooth strokes that wouldn’t take me over the edge but would get me pretty damn close, what with the way Flora was breathing over the phone.
“She runs her fingers over herself,” I said.
“It feels so good.”
“I love how wet you get for me,” I breathed. “You taste so sweet… Suck on your fingers.” Lady Louisa had done no such thing.
A low, delicious hum came over the phone line and I had to still my hand on my shaft, clamping down at the base.
