16
| SUMMER |
SUNDAY
(Time: 8:35 a.m.)
All week, Jason held firm on his demand.
So far, we’ve video-chatted five times during his trip, and in each call, he’s made sure to talk me through at least one orgasm, usually two.
As a result, interestingly enough, I found myself sleeping better than I ever have in my life.
Today though, I’m determined not to fall asleep on him right after coming my brains out.
It’s Sunday morning for me, meaning it’s late at night in China. Perfect timing. I text him to see if he’s gone to bed yet.
My cell rings almost immediately.
“Hi,” I answer the video call, doing my best to quell my nervousness.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He sounds tired. Which has me rethinking my grand plan for the call. That is, until he asks, “Are you wearing your strawberry panties this morning or the pineapples?”
I shake my head. “No panties this morning.”
That makes him look loads more awake on the screen. “Yeah?”
“Mmm hmm,” I reply casually. “Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to ask. You remember how you told me that I couldn’t touch myself without you on the phone?”
“Yes,” he says, his tone now intense.
“What if I did…touch myself? Before you called. Would there be say, a consequence for said hypothetical action?”
His eyes flare with heat, and his chiseled jaw goes granite hard.
Oh wow, this is getting fun.
“Did you touch yourself, Summer?” he asks in a deceptively calm voice.
Instead of answering, I angle my phone camera lower.
“Fucking hell.”
Good lord, I love it when he starts losing control.
Knowing my face is probably as red as a lobster right now, I keep the phone pointed downward, on what my fingers are currently doing.
The sound of his belt hitting the floor is pure music to my ears.
“How many drive-by orgasms have you given me now, you think?” I ask, breathless, but determined.
“A few dozen at least,” he murmurs, sounding wholly distracted. “Always the best part of my day.”
Really, the man says the sweetest things.
“Well, I want my turn to do that for you,” I say as I slip two fingers deep inside of me, to show him just how wet I am already.
His resulting groan rips over the phone line.
“You don’t have to say anything,” I say. “Just…watch.”
Since acting isn’t even a remote forte of mine, I rely on all the hot, vivid memories I have of Jason making me come to help me through this.
Highly effective plan, I discover.
I shut my eyes and can almost feel his hands running over my breasts, teasing my nipples to stiff peaks as he whispers his trademark wicked dirty talk in my ear.
I imagine it’s his fingertips instead of mine touching my wet slit, his slick fingers sliding in and out of me.
Before I know it, I’m lost in the fantasy of his tongue stroking my swelling clit, alternating between sucking it hard and grazing it with his teeth.
The sound of his harsh, strained breathing over the phone line has me rubbing my clit harder, faster, until my entire body is nearly shaking with pleasure. In my mind, he’s stroking his cock to the same rhythm, with the same urgency. And holy hell, that image has me close to coming already.
But…without Jason’s dirty talk, it’s just not the same.
“Fuck yourself with your fingers, baby. Get yourself ready for when I get back.” His voice hardens to a tense growl. “Imagine it’s my cock sliding in and out of your slick, hot pussy.”
When I open my eyes to see him pumping his cock on the screen, I ask softly, “Just my pussy?”
“Fucking hell, Summer. Are you saying you’re going to let me have your mouth when I come home? Tell me.”
“Yes.” I’m reduced down to one-word replies.
Jason has no such problem. “That’ll make me come, sweetheart. Are you going to let me come in your mouth? Or in that tight pussy?”
I’m unable to answer. Because the very thought of him coming anywhere inside me has me shattering into pieces, my orgasm so intense I scream out his name as pulses of wet heat rip through me.
He groans.
I’m out of breath, but not too far gone to ask him a question of my own. “Are you going to do all these dirty things you keep telling me anytime soon?”
His voice sounds on edge, but still unwavering. “I told you, we don’t have to rush this. We can wait. Your first time is a big deal.”
“And I’m ready,” I say, a hundred percent certain.
His breathing sounds labored. “Fucking hell, I’m so hard it almost hurts.”
“Because you’re thinking about taking my virginity?”
“Jesus Christ, stop, Summer.”
After all the torture he’s put me through, I can’t help but smile.
Which prompts a groaning chuckle from him. “You’re evil, woman. And I’m going to make you pay as soon as I get home.”
“Promises, promises.”
Suddenly, his smile goes wicked.
And now I’m a teeny bit worried.
“Remember how you asked me what consequences there’d be for touching yourself without me on the phone, baby?”
I feel my breathing start to thin.
“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll tell you,” he says, his voice lowering to a deep, sexy, commanding timbre. “After I make you come in my mouth at least two times, more likely three, I’m going to rub my cock all over your hard little clit until you come all over me. Then, and only then, will I let myself come.” His harsh, rumbling tone turns positively primal. “All over your wet slit…to mark it as mine.”
Oh my god.
“But before I come,” he growls, “I’ll have you take me in that sexy mouth of yours—so you’ll be able to taste yourself on me. Taste how fucking sweet you are, why I’m so damn addicted to making you come.”
By this point, I’m a trembling mess, strung out like an addict overdosing on vivid, dirty, overstimulating sex images.
And that’s when he just…stops.
Just like in every phone call we’ve had this week, the maddening man simply takes in a deep, shuddering breath and zips himself back up without joining me in post-orgasm land.
The stubborn ass.
I’d been so sure I’d be the one to give him a drive-by this time.
“I told you at the start of this week,” he says, as if reading my mind. “I’m not coming again until I’m there with you. Which will be in roughly…” He checks his watch. “Thirty-eight hours.”