Come Back To Me
Harlequin Spice Briefs ♦ September 01, 2007
As the host of an evening radio talk show about relationships, Sheena thinks she’s heard it all. But night after night, when she’s alone in the studio, she gets one last caller who offers up the best phone sex she’s ever had.
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“You give all that great advice on love, life and having fun. When’s the last time you had any fun? When was the time you let go and enjoyed a man?”
“What makes you think you know anything about me?” I asked around my pounding heart. I rushed on, filling in the answer before he could speak. “You don’t know anything about me. Not one damn thing.”
“I know enough. Enough to know you’re tired of talking about sex and ready to do it. But not just any sex. You need hot raw, dirty sex.”
Oh god, please make him stop. My eyes drifted close and the walls of my pussy clenched at the way he dragged out the word raw.
I released a shaky breath, “You don’t know anything—”
“Enough to know you’re wearing the special panties I sent you. How long did it take you to convince yourself to put them on when you received the package today?”
“I am not wearing—”
“Shh,” he interrupted me. “Close your eyes. Slide your fingertips along the inside of your thigh. Pretend they’re mine.”
I bit my lower lip and did as he demanded.
“Push up your skirt and spread your legs. What do you feel?”
Why was he doing this to me, forcing me to do things I shouldn’t, feeling things I didn’t want to feel?
“Exposed, vulnerable,” I admitted, my voice barely above a throaty whisper.
“Are you wet?”
Unable to hold back, a whimper escaped.
“That’s okay baby, you don’t have to answer. I already know. Good, because I want that pussy drenched, bared and ready for what I want to do next.”
“I’m not doing this with you, again,” I choked out, determined not to give in to him.
Despite my denial, I found myself obeying every single one of his edicts. It was late, no one was around the nearly deserted radio station, but even had they been, I knew it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference. I would have still given in to his every demand.
“How does it feel to have those beads scraping, rubbing against those plump, juicy pussy lips?” He didn’t even have the decency to wait for me to respond. “Spread your legs, rock back and forth, and ride those beads baby, pretend it’s my fingers, my tongue licking, stroking you, and tell me how good it feels.”
Oh God, it felt so good.
My body was humming; what he was doing to me—forcing me to do to myself—was the most incredibly erotic experience I’d ever had.