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Emma: I’d last longer than you think.

His reply appears almost instantly.

Bane: Doubtful.

I can’t remember the guilt that had its claws in me earlier because it disappears beneath the hunger racing through my body.

The loneliness has vanished with it, leaving only the pulse between my legs, the phone clutched in my hand, and the picture of him stretched over me.

I record another message, letting a long, breathy moan spill into the microphone before I send it without listening back because I want him imagining every second of it, and I want the picture in his head to stay there long after tonight is over.

My legs draw higher beneath the covers, my toes curl into the sheets, and every nerve burns. I stare through the blur gathering in my eyes.

Bane: You’re insatiable.

A laugh catches in my throat and falls apart into a shaky gasp instead as my fingers move faster, chasing the pleasure tightening deep inside me until it threatens to pull me under.

Another message appears.

Bane: I’m so fucking hard for you, Emma. I want to feel you squeeze around me. I want to hear you sob my name.

I’m so close that seeing his name on the screen sends another shudder through me. My free hand twists the comforter into a tight fist.

I hit record one last time and let him hear the broken whimper that escapes as I come, leaving me raw and helpless, as though I’ve split open somewhere for him alone.

When the recording sends, silence fills the room, and I drift through the fading waves of pleasure with every muscle loose enough to sink into the mattress.

I stare at my phone. My body keeps shaking, caught somewhere between desperate anticipation and embarrassment as I wait for him to answer.

His reply appears almost at once.

Bane: You sound beautiful when you come.

Heat rushes into my face as I press my thighs together beneath the sheets. I lift the phone toward my lips.

I want to answer with the kind of teasing line I’d usually find without thinking, but every thought dissolves before it reaches the screen.

Another message follows.

Bane: I want to taste you next time.

A shimmering notification lights my screen. There’s a video attachment. Thirty seconds, no preview frame. My fingers fumble as I tap play.

His voice fills the room. “Emma.”

Need roughens every syllable. The camera shakes, revealing his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, flushed and desperate beneath his grip as he strokes himself in unhurried, merciless circles.

He must’ve propped the phone against the bed because the angle catches the hard curve of his stomach and the dark trail running from his navel to his fist. I never see his face.

My attention stays on the tension pulling through his body, the way his knees flex against the mattress and the muscles in his thigh tighten with every stroke. He’s so close, so exposed, and my body answers with an ache so fierce it almost hurts.

He keeps talking to me, every filthy word thick with want.

“Thinking about you, Emma. Thinking about your thighs… your hands. Your mouth. The way you sound when you break for me.”

His breathing grows rougher as the camera trembles with every movement of his hand, and I hear the wet slide of skin beneath the frantic pull of each breath. He drives himself closer to the edge.

He groans harder this time.