17. Dutton #2
“Dutton, are you there?” she asks, because I’m probably just staring open-mouthed at the screen, like a twelve-year-old kid who’s just seen his first pair of boobs.
“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat and adjusting my already-hardening cock.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, turning to the side to adjust her pillow and giving me a view of her luscious tits.
“Nope,” I answer. “I’m slowly dying of lust over here, but it’s fine. I’m fine.”
Her smile is gratifying.“Dying of lust? That sounds terrible. And also treatable.”
“What, are you pre-med now?” I tease. “Do you know how to cure me, doc?”
A giggle escapes her pretty lips. “I’m still a hair stylist and a business major, so I don’t think ‘doc’ will work as a pet name.”
“What should I call you, then?” I ask, marveling at the way this woman has turned me into the kind of man who uses cutesy names and shit.
“As long as you don’t call me Birdie, we’ll be just fine. Bran gets a pass because he’s my twin, but I hate that freaking name. It gives me flashbacks to my childhood and my horrible cousin calling me Big Birdie. And yes, all the adults in my family thought it was hilarious.”
Holy. Shit. Once again, I’m grateful I hit the freaking jackpot with my parents.
On my phone screen, Bridgette’s biting her lip. “Sorry. I think I made things awkward, and I was trying to make them sexy. Well, not with the nickname, obviously. I just thought?—”
“Everything you do is sexy,” I tell her honestly.
“Especially in that pretty little robe you’re wearing.
But our phone calls don’t have to just be sexy stuff.
If you want to bitch about the heinous people in your life, then go ahead.
And don’t mind me while I sit here and make a list of all the people who’ve hurt you and all the ways Blue can prank them.
I realize that may not sound like much, but you wouldn’t believe the damage and frustration that a few pieces of cheese on the hood of a car in the heat of the summer sun can cause. ”
“Cheese? I’ll take your word for it,” she says, a smile gracing her plump lips. “But let’s make that horrible relative list another time, okay? I have better things in mind for tonight.”
“Oh, yeah? Like what, Dove?” I ask, the endearment rolling off my tongue a second after it lands in my brain.
“Dove?” she questions, her voice soft.
I shrug. “I’m not great with nicknames. Just ask Blue.
I usually leave that job to the creative types, but I don’t know.
My brain just came up with it. It suits you.
You’re calm and peaceful. You try to help everybody get along.
And it’s kind of like the name your brother calls you, but there’s more to it.
If you hate it, though, I can think of some?—”
“It’s perfect,” she says, interrupting me as she looks into the camera and fiddles with the neckline of that damn robe.
“In that case, tell me what’s on your mind tonight, Dove? Why’d you call me?”
A blush tinges her cheeks as she answers me. “I’m curious about something. About athletes. I read a lot of books, and some of them have jocks in them. And not the nonfiction kind of books. I like fiction. Romance, specifically.”
I fucking love the way she rambles. “So what’s your question?” I ask, clueless about where this is going, but grateful to be along for the ride.
“Well,” she drawls, letting the word stretch out. “Athletes travel a lot, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, wondering what the hell she’s getting at because she knows we travel. Hell, I’m on a road trip right now and my season hasn’t officially started yet.
“Right. So, in these books, the hero always calls the love interest when he’s on a road trip. And he’s always alone in his hotel room, and they’re both hot for each other, but they can’t do anything about it because of the distance. Or can they? That’s when one of them suggests that they…you know…”
I do know, but this is a fun game, so I’ll keep her guessing. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What do they suggest?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You know exactly what I’m referring to.”
“I don’t. Maybe you should grab one of those books and read the scene to me. That way I can visualize it.”
“Are you really going to make me say it?” she asks, huffing out a breath and causing her robe to gape a little.
Hmmm…if I keep annoying her, maybe she’ll sigh so hard that her breasts will tumble out.
It’s not a bad plan. Bridgette’s so damn confident and so fucking sexy.
But when it comes to actual sex, there’s a shyness there I can’t quite figure out.
If I had to guess, her past partners have been selfish, incompetent idiots, so she feels like she’s a little behind the curve.
Lucky for her, I’m happy to give her a crash course.
“Damn right I’m going to make you say it, Dove,” I tell her, adjusting my aching cock. “You want to know something? All you’ve got to do is ask. Use your filthy words.”
“Do you touch yourself and think of me?” she asks, the words tumbling from her lips before she can hold them back. “Do you want me to do the same? Because I was lying here, missing you, and thinking about how good it felt the other day when you?—”
She pauses, breathing hard. Fuck me. Her tits are practically begging to be set free.
“When I what?” I prompt, shifting my phone so she can see my hand as I cup my dick through the thin material of my boxer briefs.
I need her to know what she does to me, to see it.
Dragging my thumb along the hard outline of my length, I hiss out a breath.
“Because I’m touching myself right now, Dove, and it feels pretty fucking good.
What were we doing that got you so hot? Tell me,” I urge, hooking my thumb into my waistband.
Bridgette’s green eyes are fixed on the screen. She’s watching my every move like she can’t tear her gaze away. Fine by me. I’m more than happy to give her something to watch.
I tug on the elastic just enough to give her a glimpse of what she does to me.
The head of my cock is right fucking there, leaking for her like it’s got a mind of its own.
I smooth my thumb over the glistening tip, causing a full body shiver.
I can’t help it. The spell Bridgette cast on me is permanent and powerful.
She makes me want things no one else ever has.
And while I like to tease her, I’m not good at playing coy.
She turns me the fuck on, and I want her to know it.
Her gasp feels like a victory. Her lips are parted, her cheeks are flushed, and that flimsy little robe is losing the battle.
“I was standing at the edge of the bed and you were behind me,” she says, detailing the scene that played out in her dorm room two days ago. “You had your hands on my hips and then you let them wander all over my body.”
“Show me,” I grind out, and when she reaches for the tie on her robe, I swear to Christ, I nearly start cheering.
She pulls on the silk, and it flutters open, exposing her beautiful, creamy skin.
She lets her hand roam from the valley between her breasts down over her belly and finally at the juncture of her thighs.
“Then what?” I ask, freeing my cock and wrapping my left hand around the base.
“Then you pressed your hand low on my back and told me to bend forward.”
“Yes, I fucking did. Goddamn . And you stretched your body out on that mattress for me, didn’t you? Pushed your ass in the air for me so I could grab hold of your hips and line my cock up to slide it into your pussy.”
“Oh, god,” she moans, fingering herself. I’m transfixed. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. Her sex is practically dripping for me, and it makes me wonder just how long it took her to work up the nerve to call me and hint at her need for this.
“Holy fucking hell, Dove,” I curse. “Look at you, working yourself for me, showing me just the way you fucking like it. God, that’s hot. Tell me I get to watch those thighs tremble while you show me just how damn good you’re making yourself feel.”
She slips two fingers inside of herself, thrusting them and twisting them as she drills herself again and again.
“You liked the way I filled you up? Is that what you’re remembering?
” I ask, my voice betraying the fact that I’m right on the fucking edge.
I’m jacking myself mercilessly, loving the rough feel of my palm against the hard length of my dick.
“It felt so good to take you from behind, to hammer into your soft body. Fuck. You’re gonna make me come just thinking about the way your body tightened around my cock when you let go. ”
She withdraws her fingers and returns them to her clit, rubbing that tight little bud just right. Fuck, I want to be there right now, in her bedroom, on her bed.
“Dutton,” she pants, and I’ve never loved the sound of my name more than I do at this moment.
“Give it to me, Dove. Let me watch you shatter. I’m so fucking close just from hearing and seeing you take such damn good care of that body I love so much.”
My eyes are glued to my phone screen as I watch her orgasm crash over her like a tidal wave.
It’s all-consuming. And it’s fucking glorious.
I can’t hold back my own release, and when jets of cum paint my abs, I let the camera catch every second of it.
We’re both spent and sated, worked up and worked over.
“So, the answer is yes?” she asks, her voice breathy.
“The answer is hell yes, I touch my cock when I think about you, especially when you’re so damn far away.
” There’s no point in hiding it. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
And I don’t. I don’t want any secrets between us.
Bridgette turns me on. She turns me inside out.
She makes me want to be the best version of myself, and I want her to know that.
The problem is, I want everyone else to know it, too.