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“Hello, Charlotte.”
There was a moment of awkwardness, and then he said, “Touch your clit for me, baby.”
“Yes, sir.” I slid my hand into the water and between my thighs, rubbing lightly at my clit, and not holding back my soft moans.
“Good girl.” Mr. Steele’s voice in my ear made what I was doing about a thousand times sexier. “I wish I was there, good girl. Wish I could be in that tub with you.”
“Me too,” I moaned.
“I’d make you straddle my thighs and ride my hand,” he said. “Make your pretty little cunt come all over my fingers.”
I moaned again, my fingers circling harder. I was close and didn’t even care that it was shamefully quick.
“Fuck yourself with your fingers,” Mr. Steele said. I slid my fingers into my aching core, crying out at the sensation.
“That’s my good girl,” he crooned. “Does it feel good?”
“Not enough,” I gasped. “I want your co -”
I cut myself off with a snap. What was I thinking? Mr. Steele had a no fucking rule, and so did I. Sure, this was just phone sex, but I shouldn’t -
“You want my cock, baby?” Mr. Steele asked.
I fucked myself harder, the water rising dangerously close to the top of the tub with every thrust of my hips. “Yes,” I moaned. “So much.”
“If I were there, I’d give it to you. I’d fill that perfect cunt and let you ride it for as long and hard as you want.” His voice caught in a low gasp, and I could hear him touching himself. It spurred my lust higher, and I tried desperately to find my g-spot like he had on the weekend.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when he heard my whine of frustration.
“I can’t find my g-spot,” I said. “I didn’t even think I friggin’ had one, and then you found it easy peasy, and now I can’t. It’s not fair.”
He chuckled, the low, intimate sound sending goosebumps across my body. “I’ll give you another g-spot orgasm on Thursday, sweet Charlotte. Touch your clit again for me.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, loving how it made him groan into the phone.
I rubbed my clit in slow circles, the pleasure spreading across my body like wildfire.
“Does it feel good, baby?” he asked.
“Yes, I want to come,” I moaned.
“Soon,” he said. “You’re making me so fucking hard thinking about you touching yourself in the tub. We should have done a video call so you could show me how pretty you look when you come.”
“Next time,” I gasped.
“Yes,” he said. His breath caught and I closed my eyes, picturing how he looked. Was he in his bed? Was he naked with his beautiful perfect cock jutting out with precum slicking the head?
My mouth watered, and before I allowed my shyness to stop me, I said, “I really want to suck your cock, Mr. Steele.”
“Is that right?” His breath came in harsh pants, and when he made a low groan, I rubbed faster at my clit.
“Yes. Will you let me on Thursday?”
“Yes,” he muttered. “Fuck, yes. I can’t wait to have your hot mouth on my dick, Charlotte. Can’t wait to watch you stuff your mouth full of my cock.”
I cried out, my fingers working furiously at my clit. “Sir, please! I need to come!”
“Come for me,” he growled into the phone.
