Never Standing Still (The Never Duet #1)(34)

**Yeah, but damn, baby. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?**

**Send me one back.**

**You don’t want to see me right now.**

**Yes, I do.**

It took a few minutes, but my phone pinged and my mouth gaped open when the picture popped onto my screen. I swallowed, but it was difficult, as my mouth had gone dry. Riot sent me a picture of himself wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. He was in a pose much like the one I’d picked for my picture. But instead of my soft curves and creamy complexion, he was all hard muscle and tanned skin. Good God, his abs were like speed bumps. All eight of them. His thighs were massive and well defined, and he had just the right amount of chest hair.

The most interesting part of the picture, however, was the part of his body between his abs and his thighs.

The hand that wasn’t holding the camera was gripping the waistband of his underwear, right below his navel, and pulling the fabric down. Down. Low. There was an obvious bulge, but nothing was visible except just the base of his cock, which was also covered by the most delicious manscaping. It was the happiest trail I’d ever seen in my life, and I immediately started to regret our text conversation.

I was suddenly very hot, squirming in my bed, and very alone.

**You’re right. This was a bad idea.**

I bit my thumbnail as I waited for his reply. I was startled when my phone started ringing, Riot’s name appearing on the screen. My finger came up, trembling slightly, swiping to the right to answer. I put the phone to my ear, but said nothing, could form no words.

“Kal,” he growled, his voice low and raspy.

“Yeah?” I tried to reply, whispering, just air moving through my lips.

“Fuck, Kalli, I hate that you’re so far away.” He was groaning, my name falling from his mouth with such angst, with need. I couldn’t help but picture his hand moving under his briefs and my eyes fluttered closed at the thought, my breath catching. It was ironic that he thought I was far away, because in some ways, I’d never felt closer to someone than I did in that moment. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice so rough, he almost sounded angry.

“Lying in bed,” I managed.

“Touch yourself.”

“Ri,” I groaned, a blush spreading from my chest upward. “I’ve never…,” my words trailed off, my brain partially malfunctioning.

“You’ve never touched yourself?” I could hear the smile in his voice.

“No, I mean, I’ve never had phone sex before.”

“Hmmm…,” he groaned again, and the pulsing between my legs became almost painful. “Well, we could stop and hang up, but at this point, I’m doing this with or without you, and I’d much rather do it with you, babe.”

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

“Okay,” I breathed.

“Good girl,” he said, the smile still evident in his voice. “Now, why don’t you take off your bra and panties? I want to know you’re naked.”

I put my phone down and with still shaking hands quickly did as he’d asked. My hands fumbled and I ended up giggling nervously, but calmed myself before I picked the phone back up.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Done.” There was a pause. “Now what?” I stifled a laugh. I was nervous and uncomfortable, unsure of what was supposed to come next.

“Are you laughing?” Riot asked, his voice no longer smiling. It was dark, almost menacing, but ridiculously sexy. My laughter died immediately.

“No,” I answered.

“Good. Now, look down at yourself and tell me what you see. Paint me a picture.”

“Um, I’m still lying on my bed, just like in my text, but now I’m naked.” Surely, my naiveté when it came to being sexy over the phone should have turned him off, but his raspy voice continued, so I listened.

“What do your breasts look like, Kalli? I’ve imagined them a thousand times. Tell me what they look like.”

How does one go about describing one’s own breasts? My brow furrowed. “Riot, maybe this was a bad idea. I’m not very good—” I was cut off by his voice.

“Just look at them and tell me about them. Please,” he said, softly. I was a sucker for his politeness, it seemed. So I took in a deep breath and then looked down at myself.

“Well, they’re not small, but not too big. Just right, if you ask me.”

“I agree,” he whispered. “What about your nipples? What color are they?”

My heart stopped when he said ‘nipples.’ I swallowed hard and my eyes closed. “I don’t know, I guess they’re a pinkish-brown.”

“Fuck, I bet they taste delicious.”

Holy.

Crap.

My pulse was beating exclusively between my legs, thumping, pounding, aching. Without hesitation my hand found my breast, gently squeezing, relieving some of the pressure from my core. “Oh, God,” I moaned unintentionally.

“Are you touching yourself now, Kal?”

“Mm hmm,” I muttered.

“Where? Tell me.”

I was torn between being humiliated and being ridiculously turned on. I didn’t want to talk anymore; I didn’t want to say anything else. But I did want to listen to him. I wanted to do whatever he told me to, just to hear his reaction, so my libido won out.