Page 60 of Puppy Christmas

“You’re damn right,oh,” he said. “Now slide your hand over the top of your panties. No going inside until I tell you. All you can do is run your fingers over the top of the fabric. Are you doing that?”

She wasn’t, but it seemed rude not to comply. More importantly, shewantedto comply. Like kissing him under the bleachers, like breaking all the rules to ask him on a date, she was giving up and giving in.

And, oh, how good it felt.

“Yes.” She gasped as she trailed her hand down her own body. It felt strangely foreign to her, the dips and swells she knew so well suddenly taking on new shapes. “I’m doing what you say.”

“Good girl. As a reward, you can cup your mound and slide a finger between your legs.”

She complied with both of these requests, all too happy to give herself over to the task of doing exactly as he said, exactly when he said it. She’d never thought it was in her nature to be submissive, but there was something exhilarating about letting him dictate her pleasure from halfway across town. For once in her life, no one was counting on her to carry the moment, no one expected her to do anything but enjoy herself.

And enjoying herself was precisely what she planned to do.

She closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into her pillows. “Okay,” she said, closing her eyes and giving herself over to the moment. “Now what?”

It occurred to her—if fleetingly—that she had yet to offer him any instruction in return. “Wait—should I also be telling you what to do with your hand?”

“My hand is busy enough right now,” he said in a low-toned reply. “I’d tell you exactly what I’m doing and how vigorously I’m doing it, but I’m trying not to shame myself over here. What do you feel?”

What did shefeel? That seemed like a silly question. She felt excited. She felt alive. She felt each press of her fingertips against her clit like a jolt of electricity.

“Um” was all she could manage. The rest was a kind of moan and whimper wrapped up in one.

“Good,” he said gruffly. “Now slip a finger—just one, mind you—into your pussy. Do you feel how slick it is, how wet you are for me?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she said with another one of those moan-whimpers. It was all she could manage as she encountered the slippery, swollen lobes. “Can I—?”

“Yes,” he said. “Touch yourself. Rub yourself. Imagine it’s me over there with you, spreading your legs wide and fingering you until you scream.”

She did all those things. She touched and rubbed and pictured Ford in the bed with her, making sexy demands and using all the profanity he could muster in the heat of the moment. Which, for the record, was quite a bit. She lost track after the thirdfuck, but this man apparently had no qualms about swearing when the situation called for it.

“I’m starting to think I’m on the phone with a stranger,” she gasped after a particularly detailed outburst. “Are you sure I shouldn’t be telling you what to do? To take some of the edge off?”

“There’s only one way to take the edge off,” he said. “I thought you’d have realized that by now.”

Oh, she’d realized it. She’d realized it the moment she’d made contact with her own body. The pair of them had spentweekstiptoeing around this—well, Lila had tiptoed; Ford had barreled in with his usual laugh and a smile. She had no idea what it was about her that seemed to incite this man to such fiery passion, but she liked it.

She likedhim.

“Then do it,” she said, no longer surprised at her own daring. Admitting how much she liked this man—and how he made her feel—was only the first step. She had the feeling that once that barrier came down, there would be no stopping her.

Or him.

“I want you to finish yourself off,” she said. “Don’t hold back. Don’t slow down. Keep running your hand up and down your cock until you forget your own name.”

“I have a name?” he asked in a strangled voice.

She chuckled. It had been her intention to keep going, to detail exactly how close she was to setting her whole body alight, when he interrupted her.

“That laugh…” Ford groaned. “Fuck, Lila. I could spend the rest of my life coming on the sound of that laugh alone.”

It wasn’t the most erotic thing he’d said to her during their phone call, and it wasn’t even close to the most graphic. In fact, a laugh seemed like the most innocent thing that either of them had shared for the past ten minutes. But there was something so honest—so raw—about the way he spoke that Lila gasped and felt herself giving in. She wanted to prolong this moment, to show the kind of resolve that would delay her orgasm as long as possible, but it was no use.

As Ford’s breath caught and pried loose again, finally giving over to release, her own body shook in shuddering waves against her hand. It was no use trying to fight it—or him. She had no choice but to give over to everything but Ford Ford and the pleasure he wrought wherever he went.

She lay against the ruffled pillows, sated and panting, the phone still pressed against her ear as her breathing resumed a normal pattern. His did, too, the pair of them not talking but sharing a strangely connected moment all the same.

“I didn’t know phone sex could be like that,” she said, the first to break the silence. She felt oddly shy, but it seemed as though one of them should make the attempt at speech.