Never Standing Still (The Never Duet #1)(35)

“My breast. I’m touching my breast.”

“That’s fan-f*cking-tastic,” he growled. “What does it feel like?”

“It feels amazing. It’s soft and full. Warm too.” My fingers pinched my nipple and I moaned louder, biting my bottom lip to try and keep my sounds muffled. A current of electricity ran from my breast straight to my core, arching my back off the bed. My heels drew up, bending my knees, and my hips arched. “Ri,” I cried quietly, wishing so badly he was there.

“I know, baby. Shh. Can you move your hand lower?”

I didn’t even think about it, my hand just slid smoothly down the valley between my breasts, over my torso, past my belly button, and when I reached the edge of what little pubic hair I had, my breath caught.

“Riot,” I quite nearly whined.

“God, Kalli, my hand is on my dick and I so wish it were you. I’m so hard for you, but my hand isn’t what I want. My body wants you so bad.”

His words urged me on and my fingers slid lower. When they smoothed over my clit, my lungs contracted, a sharp breath pulling in, and my legs jolted. All my nerves were on high alert, like a rubber band stretched too thin, waiting to snap.

“Where is your hand, babe?” he groaned.

“Inside me,” I whimpered as I slid two fingers all the way into my depth, gasping.

“Are you wet?” he asked. And even if I hadn’t been, after hearing him ask, it would have been inevitable. His deep voice rolled over the words, like rough silk. Silk that had been torn and abused. It was so f*cking sexy.

“I’m so wet,” I moaned, quietly.

“Shit, Kal. Fucking Christ. Imagine it’s me. I’m there, and my hand is inside you, pumping in and out. My mouth is on you. I’m kissing your stomach, moving up to your breasts. I can’t get enough of you. Are you with me?”

“Yes. I can feel you touching me. It’s so good, Riot.” My hand found a rhythm, blissfully slow, and achingly shallow, just enough to tease. Then my fingers moved up to my clit, circling, then back down again. It was both incredible and yet entirely unfulfilling because I wanted it to be him.

I slowed my own ministrations and listened to him on the other end of the phone. His breath was falling heavily, and every few seconds I heard him give a shallow grunt. I could also hear his hand working over his erection and the image I conjured up in my head made my body convulse with pleasure. My hand went back to work, sliding in and out of me, but I made sure to listen to Riot; I wanted to hear him when he came.

“Are you thinking of me?” I asked him, my voice hardly a whisper.

“God-f*cking-yes I’m thinking of you,” he growled.

We both got to a point where words weren’t necessary, all I needed was the sound of his breath, hot and ragged against my ear to bring me to the brink. My hand found a quicker, deeper pace, a rhythm and cadence that matched his breath, trying to sync to him however I could. It wasn’t until my slick fingers put that cadence and pressure on my clit that I found my release. I groaned loudly, back arching off the mattress, knees splayed wide, head thrown back as far as possible. It was an earth-shattering orgasm, lasting so long, I worried Riot would think I’d hung up as I’d dropped the phone mid-spasm.

When I picked it up again I could hear he still hadn’t finished, and the sounds he was making nearly had me reaching south again.

“Oh, f*ck,” he growled. He took deep breaths in, held them, and then exhaled quickly. “Christ, Kalli, I’m almost there.”

I had no words to urge him on, couldn’t think of anything to say because my body was still in overdrive, still buzzing from my orgasm, even more aflame hearing him so close to coming. Finally, I heard a long groan and then silence, followed by heavy breaths. Eventually, after we’d both regained our senses, he finally spoke.

“You there, babe?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly, rolling from my back to my side, suddenly very conscious of my state of nakedness. I was very rarely naked unless I was showering. To lie naked on my bed wasn’t something I was accustomed to.

“Are you all right?”

“I think so, are you?”

“Yeah,” he said softly, and I could imagine his hand running over the stubble of his jaw, making me smile. “Listen, Kalli, I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened like that. I took it too far.” He sighed loudly and my heart nearly stopped because, although unexpected, I didn’t regret what had happened. If anything, it just made me miss him more than I already did.

“I’m not sorry,” I said, trying not to sound hurt, but failing. “You sounded like you enjoyed yourself. What’s there to be sorry about?”

“I did enjoy myself, but Kalli, God, the first time you came for me I should have at least been there. I’d give anything to see you like that. I want to be the one to make you feel that way, and not over the phone.”

“Oh,” I replied, a little shocked by his words.

“Yeah, oh.” I heard rustling on his end and pictured him standing up from his bed, perhaps walking through his house. One of the few times we’d Skyped, he’d taken me on a virtual tour of his apartment in San Francisco. From what I could tell, it looked small and very much like a man lived there alone.

“Kal?”

“Yeah?”