“Are you in position?
“Yes.”
“You like it?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Okay, Izzy, I’m taking your hand—your right hand—and guiding it. Move it with me.”
“Yes,” she replied quickly. Eagerly.
“Lay your palm over your ass cheek. Feel the heat of your palm. The cool smoothness of your skin. Do you feel it?” He did. He felt it like it was his hand on her. The hand on his cock tightened. His shaft throbbed.
“Your legs…together or parted?”
“Together,” she panted. “Demure.”
“Part them. Spread them wide.” He imagined her opening her thighs, broadening the target, leaving vulnerable parts exposed. Her pussy nestled against his pillow. He dragged his fist up his shaft, forcefully enough to jostle his balls against his thighs.
“All right, Isabelle, bring your palm down on your cheek. Hard enough that I can hear it, or you’ll have to do it again. It might hurt a little. You might have to whimper,” he suggested, just in case her imagination got sluggish after too much wine. He needn’t have worried. If anything, she spanked herself too enthusiastically. He heard the sharp impact of palm to flesh, heard her quick, uneven inhale.
“Baby, you okay?”
“God, Trace, I wish you were here.”
“I wish I was there too, Izzy. What would I do to you if I was there?”
“You…um…I can’t believe I’m going to say this. Your dick. You would take hold of that big, hard dick and you would…spank me with it.”
Holy shit, he was going to come in his fist. But this, too, made a strange amount of sense, given she hadn’t actually seen him naked but probably had a decent sense of the size of his equipment based on the times she’d had it pressed against her. It warmed his heart that she wanted a scenario that didn’t require her to fill in too many blanks with her imagination. “Spank you with my dick?”
“Not just my backside. My legs are apart, so you would make me come up on my knees and you would…you know…”
He didn’t. “Tell me.”
“You would spank all between my thighs. Low, by my knees. In the soft middle part where it might leave a red mark, and all the way to my…my…”
He stroked himself harder and faster as he imagined it. “Your pussy?”
“Yes.” The word was a gasp. “You’d spank my pussy but not for long, because you’d know…even though I tried to cover it up…you’d know how much I secretly liked it. By the way I sounded. By the way I moved. You’d continue on, slap my butt—both cheeks—leave the hint of an imprint on both, and then go back between my thighs.”
Ah, Jesus. He wasn’t going to last another minute. “This whole time”—he cupped his balls hard—“this whole time I’m working on you, are you grinding on my pillow?”
“God, yes. I am. Sorry.”
“No sorry. Listen, Isabelle. Listen closely. I’m going cock-whip you, and then you’re going to lift that ass so I can cock-slap your very wet, very hot pussy. When it gets to be too much for you, grind on the pillow until you get some relief. When you’re ready for more, lift up and I’ll give you more.”
“Oh God,” she breathed. “Oh, God. Trace?”
“What baby? What do you need?” He worked himself with brutal efficiency while he pictured her positioned below him, ass lifted and dancing as he whipped his way up between her legs. He heard the wet smack of his abused dick against her smooth, yielding skin, the fluttery sounds of her quick inhales and whimpering exhales.
“Nothing. Nothing. Just…this isn’t going to take long.” Her voice trailed off into a little moan, and then, “I’m coming. I’m coming. It’s so strong, so much…”
He locked his jaw and watched her in his mind’s eye while he used both hands on himself. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Come on my pillow. Drench it. The next time I bury my face there, I want to breathe in the scent of you.”
“Oh…oh…oh…ohhhhh…”
Those desperate little noises sent him over. For long moments he fell into a world consisting solely of his burning lungs, his firing muscles, and the beautiful agony of his orgasm rushing into him, through him, out of him like a lightning bolt of pure pleasure.
“Christ,” he finally muttered. Every muscle in his body released. He sagged back against the mattress. Since when had jacking off left him so thoroughly wrung out? Even his mouth was dry.
And still, spent as he was, his body ached to be with her for real. He cleared his throat. “Hey, Izzy?”
“Uh-huh?” Her voice was very thick now. He imagined her nestled in his bed, cheek snuggled to a pillow, eyelids drooping as she basked in the afterglow.
“Did you enjoy your bedtime story?”
“Mmm-hmm. You?”
He looked down his body and laughed. “Yeah, you could say that. Do me a favor, okay?”
“Hmm…”
“Don’t rush off tomorrow. Wait for me to get there. There’s more to our story. Stay, so I can show you.”
“Uh-huh. Wait.” Her voice sounded far away. He was losing her. “Tomorrow—” a yawn interrupted her meandering words—“have to ask you…something.”
Possible topics paraded through his mind. Would you kindly coax an orgasm out of me with your tongue? After that, would you mind, terribly, if I straddled your lap and had myself a rodeo while you devoured my tits? “Anything. You can ask me anything. Sweet dreams, Izzy. Remember to wait for me.”
“I’m waiting…”
…
Thank God for steady tailwinds. Trace set an air speed record flying Lenna and Tom home from Anchorage. And thank God for redeye flights, which left his normally energetic operations manager too tired to argue when he declined their offer to buy him breakfast. She could thank him for flying them home another day. And last, but not least, thank God for Wing, who kept the engine of the circa 1992 Captivity Air Land Rover—and transport of last resort—growling so he could drop them off at their place and head straight home.
Trace offered up one last thanks when he pulled to the top of the driveway in time to wave at Lilah, who was backing her red Jeep out of the garage. She stopped by the Rover and lowered her passenger side window. He lowered his window as well. “Did Bridge leave for Juneau?”
“A couple hours ago,” Lilah confirmed. “Key’s been fed and walked.” A faint smile played across her lips. “Izzy’s still asleep, I think.”