Illicit and fancy. Undeserving of my poorly put together room. But better for it.
This is my space.
The only space that's really mine.
I'm inviting him into it. Just barely. But I am.
Ian: Good girl.
It makes my sex clench. I don't want to think about the implications—what the fuck is wrong with me, wanting him to purr good girl.
It winds me so tight.
I'm already on edge.
Ian: Take it off.
Eve: Here?
Ian: You're in your room, aren't you?
Eve: Yes.
Ian: Do you normally fuck yourself somewhere else?
Holy shit.
Eve: No. Here.
Ian: How do you fuck yourself?
Eve: I rub my clit. With my fingers. Normally, the middle. Sometimes, the ring.
Did I just write that? My entire body flames. It's there, in text, forever.
Ian: Did you fuck yourself last night?
Eve: Yes.
Ian: You thought of me?
Eve: Yes.
Ian: What, exactly?
Eve: The feeling of your hands in my hair. And your cock in my mouth. And the way you held my body against yours. I could feel you were hard. You were so close. I wanted you inside me.
Ian: Did you want to watch?
Eve: Yes.
Ian: Did you want me to watch?
Eve: Yes.
Ian: Do you want me to watch now?
Eve: Yes.
Ian: I can come over.
Eve: It's too far.
Ian: Impatient?
Eve: Yes.
Ian: I should make you wait for that.
Eve: Please don't.
Fuck, I'm begging him. I'm not even sure what I'm begging for. Only that I want it. That he's the only one who can give it to me.
Ian: Take off the lingerie.
I slide out of my bra. Then the panties.
Ian: Show me.
I point my cell to my chest. There. Snap.
Me.
Naked.
For him.
Can I trust him with it?
I take a deep breath. Channel the logic left in my brain.
It's a risk, but that's what makes it thrilling.
I trust him.
And, fuck, I want to send this so badly. To be exposed for him. To risk someone else seeing.
There.
Ian: Fuck. Beautiful.
How do I reply? Thank you feels silly. Anything dirtier…
It's hard to form the words.
The cell buzzes in my hand.
Not a text.
He's calling me.
There only one reason to call…
Fuck.
I answer. "Hello." It feels strange saying hello, when I've just sent him a picture of my breasts, but where else do I start?
"Hello." His voice is that low, demanding tone. There's this tiny hint of impatience. He needs this too. "Are you alone?"
"Yes."
"Put the phone on speaker."
I do.
"On the bed."
I do.
"Climb into it."
I lie on the smooth sheets.
"I like to picture you there. Your head rolling back, your fingers in your cunt, your expression wracked with pleasure."
Fuck. "You picture me touching myself?"
"Constantly."
"Oh."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Oh."
He lets out a low laugh. For a moment, it defuses the tension in the room. My shoulders relax. My breath steadies.
I'm talking to the guy I like. Not lying in my bed, waiting for his instructions. Waiting to come for his listening pleasure.
"You're adorable," he says. "It makes me wild."
"Why?"
"Knowing I'm the one who can make someone so tough and strong blush… it drives me out of my mind."
"Oh."
Again, he laughs. This time, it doesn't defuse the tension.
It winds me tighter. "What do you do? When it drives you out of your mind?"
"Wait."
"You wait?"
"Yes."
"You don't fuck yourself?"
"Sometimes. If I don't think I'll be able to control myself when I see you." Impatience drips into his voice. "If I can't take the agony of waiting anymore."
"What would happen? If you couldn't control yourself?"
"I'd pin you to the table in the restaurant. Roll your knickers to your ankles. Dive between your legs."
"You'd fuck me?"
"Taste you. Then fuck you."
"Oh."
His voice drops to something impossibly demanding. "Lie down."
"Okay." I lower myself completely onto the bed.
"Sheets out of the way."
I push them aside.
"Touch yourself. Your breasts to start."
I don't usually play with my breasts. But with him listening… there's something about knowing I'm being watched.
Fuck, I'm already on edge.
It's like he's touching me.
A gasp falls from my lips. "Will you?"
"Will I what, vixen?"
"Fuck yourself."
"Now?"
"After."
"If you ask me to." It's there again. That dare. That demand.
"Do you want to?"
"Yes."
"You're hard?"
"Very." His voice drops. "I'm in control now, vixen. You do exactly what I say. Understand?"
"Yes."
He lets out a low groan of pleasure. "Is there a mirror in your room?"
"Yes."
"Can you arrange it so you can see yourself?"
"I'll try."
"Good girl."
Fuck. I can barely move. My knees knock together as I slide out of the bed.
There's a mirror hanging from my door. Normally, I use it to check my outfit. But this…
I take it off the hook. Tilt it against the wall so it's facing the bed.
It's not perfect, but it's a start. I climb into bed. Turn the other way. So it's easier to see my reflection. "Done."
"Show me."
I don't think. I take a picture of my reflection. Send it to him.
"Fuck." His voice is a low groan. "Perfect."
My fingers dig into the sheets.
"Now, lie back. With your head toward the mirror. Watch everything you do."
I nod. "Yes."
"I'm going to ask you to do it again. For me. In front of me."
"When?"
"After I've fucked you. I don't have the self-control to watch you fuck yourself and not touch you."
Fuck, yes. I let out a sound that's a collection of vowels.
He understands my meaning. "Now, eyes on the mirror as you play with your tits."
I watch my hand go to my chest. My fingers close around my nipple. It's not the same as watching him toy with me, but knowing he's on the line—
It's intense.
Overwhelming.
Only the sound of the fan.
My heavy exhale.
His steady breath.
He waits until I let out a groan. "What do you want, vixen?"
"You."
"How?"
"Inside me. Touching me. Tasting me. Groaning my name."
"Do you want to come?"
"Yes."
"Show me."
I slip my hand beneath my bellybutton. Let my legs fall to the sides.