Page 62 of Twisted Shot
Her insides clench.
Without another word, Mila taps the camera icon, and the screen shifts. Her image fills the lower corner. She lies back against the pillows, lips parted, body half-bared, the glow of the city softly lighting her face.
And she waits, anticipation crawling up her spine.
The Man in Black props his phone against something in front of him, and slides a muscled forearm down his stomach. He adjusts the angle and Mila’s eyes widen as his hand reaches into his jeans.
When he speaks, his voice is dark, commanding.
“Touch yourself. Start slow. Use one finger only.”
Licking her lips, Mila trails an index finger across the peaks of her breasts, then lower to her navel, drawing small circles there. She skims it over the lace of her panties, sliding over the wetness already gathering there.
“Like this?” she purrs.
“Exactly like that, Daisy. You’re such a good girl.”
She hums happily, trailing her finger across the lace over her clit as warm pleasure bubbles there.
“Are you wet for me?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to take the toy out now, Daisy. Slip it inside you, but don’t turn it on.”
Reaching down, Mila grasps the toy and skims it down her stomach, letting him watch as she glides it over the lace of her panties. She puts the phone down as she peels them down her legs, and positions the larger, egg-shaped end of the toy against her slick opening.
Grabbing the phone again, she angles it to her face as she slides the toy home, closing her eyes with a soft moan. It’s cold, but not unwelcome. The wand curves up to nestle close to her clit.
The Man in Black watches her, chest heaving. The hand in his jeans strokes himself slowly..
She shifts and reaches for the remote, but he growls, “No, Daisy. It’s my turn to play.”
Confused, Mila watches as he pulls out another phone and presses some buttons. The vibrator hums to life, pulsing softly inside her.
“Oh god,” she breathes, as gentle waves of pleasure wash over her.
He swipes at the phone again, and Mila feels the wand purr and stimulate her clit deliciously. It’s a low, sensual pulse, much slower than what she uses at home. She shifts her hips so the vibrations are right where she needs them.
She sighs, back arching into the pillows. She lets her legs fall open, surrendering to the sensation.
“Do you like that, Daisy?” His voice is dark. Smoky. It slithers past Mila’s defenses, stoking the fire between her legs.
“Mmm, yes,” she replies. “More please.”
“I would give anything to taste you,” he growls, and Mila bites back a moan at the images that flood her mind, a warm mouth pressed against her skin and then lower, firm hands kneading her body and his head between her thighs.
“I bet your pussy tastes like heaven.”
She’s breathing heavier now, her hips grinding in an invisible rhythm, bucking against the sinful pulses of the toy.
“Why don’t you come over here and find out?” she counters, looking at the camera.
He chuckles darkly and pulls his hand out from his waistband. Slowly, he unzips his jeans, and Mila can see an impressive bulge in his black boxer briefs. She watches, fascinated, as he draws his hand up his body, revealing a peek of chiseled abs, and to his mouth and bites his knuckles, stifling a groan.
“Fuck, Daisy. You know I want to. The things I want to do to that smart mouth of yours. To your perfect ass. I would have you screaming.”
Even with his voice modulated, Mila can hear the rawness. His desperation. It sends a painful pang of longing through her, settling in her core.
