Page 96 of Bleacher Report
"You’re killing me," he mutters. "You’re seriously going to make me hard in a terminal full of families, old ladies, and neck pillows?"
I laugh quietly, brushing my fingers up the length of the toy again, slower this time.
"That depends," I murmur. "Are you going to talk me through it?"
I can hear him rustling around like he’s moving. “First, let me find a quiet corner in this godforsaken packed airport.”
There’s a beat of silence for a moment as I wait for him to find a spot, my body already heating up at the idea of having phone sex with Hunter while he can’t do anything to take care of himself.
Then his voice drops—low, rough, and intimate enough to make my knees weak.
"Get in bed," he says. "Keep the phone on speaker."
I don’t even hesitate.
I head for my bedroom, the house suddenly feeling warmer, smaller, tighter around me. I flick off the bedside lamp and crawl under the covers, placing the phone on the pillow beside me. The vibrator—his vibrator—is still in my hand, glittering in the dim light.
"Clothes off?" I ask.
"Mm-hmm. Everything. And lay on my side of the bed. I want to know you’re coming all over my side of the sheets."
I slide my tank top over my head, shiver as the cool air kisses my skin, and push my panties down my thighs. The sheets catch against my bare legs as I settle back, heart pounding.
"Tell me what you’re doing," he says, voice a soft growl now. "Walk me through it."
"I’m lying on your side of the bed..." I say, a little breathless. "Naked. Thinking about how good you felt inside me last week. Wondering if this thing you made actually lives up to the real thing."
He groans quietly, trying to muffle it back from the other passengers within earshot. “Are you wet?”
I drag my finger through my arousal. Wetter than I even realized. Just the sound of his voice is enough to get me dripping. “Yes.”
"Wrap your hand around it. Slide it through those sweet pussy lips. Get it nice and wet for me first."
I wrap my fingers around the toy, the familiar weight making me wish it was him in real life instead.
His voice in my ear is everything—commanding, sinful, and somehow still laced with that teasing affection that always ruins me.
"Slow. Go slow. I want you aching for it."
I do exactly as he says—sliding it between my thighs, letting it brush against me, teasing my entrance. My hips lift without meaning to.
“Now, put me inside—just the tip—teasing that pussy. You don’t get the whole thing yet. Not until you beg.”
I moan as I press the vibrator inside of me—Hunter’s tip spreading me open—the stretch feels so good, but I know from experience how thick the rest of his shaft is.
“Now swirl my tip inside of you and then pull out a little before pushing me back in.”
“Hunter…” I mutter as I do as he instructs.
“You want more don’t you?” He phrases it as a question, but we both know I need more.
I make a muffled “yes” sound.
“Are you wet enough to take all of me?”
“Mm-hmm…” I tell him.
“Beg, Peyton.”
