“What?”
“Sliding my hand into my boxers.”
“Slash,” I whispered.
“Have you ever done this before?”
“No.”
“It’ll help you sleep,” he teased.
“I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I’ll do all the talking.”
I swallowed, a tingle of excitement shooting down my spine.
My hand drifted into my panties. I was already wet, just from hearing Slash’s growly voice in my ear.
“You know what I’d be doing if I was there with you?” he asked.
“What?”
“My head would be between your thighs, and I’d taste you and lick you until you were writhing. But I’d pin you down, hold you open, just the way I want you until you came on my tongue.”
A low moan escaped my throat as my fingers slowly swirled around the tight little bud between my legs.
“Do you know what I’d do after I made you come?”
“No,” I croaked.
“I’d let you ride me. My fingers would tweak your nipples and then you’d hang over me and I’d suck them into my mouth. I’d suck them nice and hard until you were coming all over my dick.”
“Yes,” I breathed. “God, yes.”
I slipped a finger inside myself, wishing it was Slash.
“And then,” he went on, his own breathing sounding harsh. “I’d get you on all fours. And I’d finally do the thing I’ve been wanting to do since the night we met.”
“What?” I gasped.
“I’d take your ass.”
“Slash,” I cried out, my orgasm building to a crescendo.
“I’d slide in nice and slow, ease into you. I’d fuck you until you were crying with pleasure and then, only then, would I come. Fill you up with so much of me that you thought about it for days afterwards.”
His filthy imagery had me quaking, and then I came on my fingers.
Slash grunted, and I heard skin slapping and knew he was touching himself, thinking of me. Thinking of us together.
“Fuck,” he growled.
Silence breathed between us, but it was easy and there was no shame on my end.
“Wow,” I murmured when I finally returned to my body. “That was something.”
“Tomorrow when we do this,” he said. “I want to see your face.”