Page 8 of Restless Obsession

“Figured since you texted, you wouldn’t mind. Unless I’m wrong. We can end the call and⁠—"

“No! I mean yes. No.” Oh god, why was I stumbling over my words? “I don’t mind,” I finally spit out. “I’m actually— I’m glad you called.” And that was the god’s honest truth.

“Were you worried about what I might sound like?” he wondered.

“A little,” I admitted with a full grin on my face.

“And now?”

“I’m really glad you called.”

“I’m glad, Sunny girl.”

“It’s Lucy.” The words slipped past my lips before I could overthink, like I needed to remind him of who he was talking to just in case he used that nickname on every woman in his life. Not to mention something inside of me was craving to hear my name roll off his tongue

“Excuse me?”

“My name. My real name. It’s Lucy.”

“Lucy, baby, you shouldn’t give a stranger your real name. That could be really fucking dangerous,” he rasped. My breath hitched in my throat.

“But you’re not a stranger, are you, Daddy?” My voice turned breathy like it did when I was camming.

No. That wasn’t right. It was breathy like when I cammed for him.

“Fuck,” he cursed. The deep guttural tone made my skin break out into goose flesh. “My girl horny?”

“I wasn’t until I heard your voice,” I replied honestly.

“Hmm,” he rumbled deeply. “Where are you?” he asked with a scratchy tone to his voice.

“In my living room.”

“Hmm,” he grunted. “On your couch?” I swallowed hard. “Tell me, little girl, so I can paint a clear picture in my head,” he demanded tenderly with a dominance I wanted to submit to.

“Yes,” I whispered. I felt like I was on fire from the inside out. Wetness coated my thighs, and my nipples beaded tightly against the soft cotton of the oversized tee I wore.

“Just sitting there thinking about daddy so much, you had to text me?” he asked, knowing just how to get in my head.

In our private chats I always got off. Not because I knew my body or even came close to faking it with him. I always came because of him. His words. The way they’d get in my head, the exact thing I needed to get from him to get me off.

But hearing him? His deep, gravel-like tone was just the icing on the cake. Never in my life had I ever been this wet. This needy.

“Don’t get quiet on me, little girl. Come on, Lucy,” he goaded, “tell daddy the truth. Were you sitting around thinking about him?” The almost familiar tone made my mind prickle. I tried to remember where I’d heard it before or who he sounded like, but I couldn’t place him.

“Yes,” I admitted with a slight hiss. My thighs pressed together as heat and need coiled deep inside, making a mess of the tiny panties I had put on after my shower.

“That’s my Sunny girl. How about you get nice and comfortable for me?”

“Here? On my couch?” I asked like he had any idea what it looked like. I wasn’t sure why that surprised me. I was a cam girl, for goodness sakes! I lived alone, yet I’d never just played with myself on the couch.

“Right there on your pretty little couch.” His voice cut through the intrusive thoughts. “My girl’s aching, and I’m not the kind of daddy who likes to put shit off when it comes to taking care of his girl.” Fuck, why is that so damn hot? “Get comfortable and tell me how you’re sprawled out.”

I didn’t think. I just acted.

I pulled a couple pillows and lay on my back, knees bent at my sides, the cool air brushing my overheated inner thighs.

“Hmm,” he rumbled, “I can almost see you right now. Lying on the couch, pretty little knees bent up. You comfy, pretty girl?”