Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
“Sorry about that,” she says. “Sounds like a nightmare.”
“I’m used to it. Anyway, I’m fine now. More than fine. Thank you for texting me.” I say this with feeling. I want her to know how much it means to me that she’s willing to talk to me and give me another chance. “I guess I was a little arrogant this morning, bringing up the money in such a cavalier way with you. Maybe I’m more like my brother than I realize.”
“Don’t do that,” she says. “I told you I overreacted. I meant it. I’m overly-sensitive about money. That’s on me. I know you. I know you’re kind. I don’t know your brother, so I’ll take your word he’s an arrogant prick, but I can tell you I wouldn’t ever describe you that way.”
“How would you describe me?” I ask, curious.
“That’s not easy to answer. Has anyone ever told you that you’re complicated?” she deadpans. She takes the laptop and lies back with it, so that her face is filling the frame. “Sexy. That’s the first thing I noticed, if I was being honest. You’re kind. I notice small things you do when you don’t think anyone’s watching. You can be bossy…”
“Hey now,” I say, objecting. “I take exception to that.”
“Then you’re delusional, too. Anyway, I like you when you’re bossy. When you tell me what to do when we’re chatting.”
“Well that’s not real life,” I say. “That’s just play.”
“These bruises on my hip seem pretty real, Chris,” she says. The laptop shifts and now I see her whole body, laid out on the bed. She rolls the waist of her pajamas down an inch, and I see five small bruises on her hip. My fingerprints.
“Do they hurt?” I ask, my voice has dropped an octave.
“Not at all,” she says, her voice lower, too. “In fact, when I was showering the other day, I saw those marks and…well, I liked them.”
“You did? What else do you like?”
“I like this spot,” she says, as she trails her finger over the mark on her shoulder. “When I look at it, I can remember exactly how I felt when you left it there.”
My hands are on my knees, white knuckled from keeping them still, when all I want to do is touch my cock.
“You know, I’ve never seen you like this,” she says, reaching for the hem of her tank top and pulling it over her head. “The tables are turned. You’ve watched me so many times—” she rubs her hand over her breast, cupping it— “commanding me from behind that keyboard—” now she’s wriggling her pajama pants down, and I see her purple satin panties— “and don’t think I didn’t notice how much it turned you on to deny me. How you wouldn’t let me come.” She slips her hands below her panties and her eyes flutter closed, her head lolls to the side as the satin panties shimmer, subtly moving from her fingers sliding around beneath.
My cock is throbbing in my boxers as I watch to her, but I understand her implicit message. Weaver wants to play, but by her rules this time.
“Chris?” She says my name in a sing-song voice, and my eyes snap back up to her face from her panties. “What are you thinking about, Chris?”
“I wish I could feel what you’re feeling right now. I wish it was my tongue on you instead of your fingers.”
“Take out your cock. I want to see you,” she purrs, and I’ve never done anything so quickly in my life. As soon as my cock and balls are free, I spread the small puddle of precum that’s pooled at the tip. The pad of my thumb is rough as it slides over the head and swipes around the swollen ridge. I grip the head firmly and pump a few times, dying to release some of the pressure.
“I said show me,” she says. “I didn’t say touch. Put your hands back on your knees. How does it feel?”
“I’m so hard, Weaver, it practically hurts. I don’t think I can feel anything else in my body. Every feeling is concentrated in my cock, and I need to touch it.”
She sits up now, her back against the headboard, and positions the computer in front of her. Fuck. I have a perfect view between her legs and now I can see the damp spot I’d dreamed of seeing just a few minutes ago. She reaches out of sight and comes back with something in her hand. I groan when I see it’s a black silicone dildo.
My hands are on my knees again, but my dick is jerking, reacting to what’s in front of my eyes. Weaver’s popped the head of the dildo into her mouth, dragging her tongue around it. I can’t decide where to look, because her other hand is back in her panties, and from the movement she’s making, I imagine she’s fucking herself with her fingers.