Show and Tell by Jasmine Haynes Page B

“Say it the way I told you.”
     
     
    “Yes, Scott,” she murmured, “it felt so damn good.”
     
     
    In fact, Trinity was close to panting for the man. Phone sex had always seemed so . . . undignified, yet Scott had the best voice for it.
     
     
    “Are you wet?”
     
     
    “Yes, Scott.” She was so darn wet. Her skin was flushed. She lay sprawled across the sofa, her pajama top unbuttoned and askew, her hair in her face. She puffed it away with a breath.
     
     
    “Touch yourself and tell me how wet you are.”
     
     
    “Yes, Scott.” The flesh between her legs seemed to vibrate. Trinity slipped her hand beneath the elastic of her pajama shorts. Closing her eyes, she imagined she was spreading her legs for him the way she had in the hotel room. Her center was creamy, warm, and her whole body shivered as she rolled her finger over her clitoris. “Oh Scott, I am so wet for you.”
     
     
    He made a noise, a soft groan. “Do you like that I can’t touch myself, that I can only listen while I sit in my office and everyone can see me talking through the windows?”
     
     
    “Yes, I like it.” She loved it. Even as he told her what to do, she knew she held him in thrall, and it was so powerful. She could get used to it. She could come to hunger for it.
     
     
    “Pinch your nipple again,” he demanded.
     
     
    Gliding the tip of one wet finger around her nipple, she pinched. Oh. Oh, that was perfect. A moan slipped out.
     
     
    “How does it feel?” His voice was huskier, deeper.
     
     
    “Electrifying.” She sighed. Her body buzzed. Her clitoris ached for more.
     
     
    “Do it harder this time.”
     
     
    She let out a long, low sound of pleasure as tiny jolts zipped from her nipple to her extremities. God, sex could be good. She’d never imagined how good. And he wasn’t even with her in the room. It was amazing. “That felt sooo hot.”
     
     
    “Pinch it again, but hold it.”
     
     
    “Yes, sir,” she whispered, playing with first one nipple, then the other. “Is this like dominance and submission?”
     
     
    “It’s about directing your play. It makes me a part of it rather than simply a voyeur.” He lowered his voice. “It makes me fucking hot.”
     
     
    She’d never been into dirty talk, but the way he said that word was almost as good as the feel of her hand between her legs. “I liked it when you were a voyeur.” Like was far too mild.
     
     
    “I noticed. But I also notice you aren’t making any noises like you’re pinching your nipple.” He gave a little tsk .
     
     
    “Sorry.” Trinity dipped her head to watch herself, and this time she took both nipples. “Now I’m doing it.”
     
     
    “Hold it, hold it, hold it.”
     
     
    His voice mesmerized her. Her nipples shrieked, yet it wasn’t pain but the height of pleasure. She seemed to spin off into another place. On their own, her hips bucked and writhed on the sofa. She closed her eyes, moaning, riding the wave, imagining his hands on her, his lips, tongue driving her crazy.
     
     
    “Now let go.”
     
     
    Air rushed over her swollen nipples. “Oh, oh, that was so good.” She sucked in a breath. A second more, and she would have come just from the ache and his voice pushing her. She’d never felt anything like it in her life. And she wanted more. “Scott, I wanna touch myself. Please.” She’d die if he didn’t let her.
     
     
    “Rub your clit for me.”
     
     
    She shoved her hand into her shorts. “Oh God.”
     
     
    She moaned, groaned, tossed her head on a sofa cushion. She didn’t sound like Miss Perfect Trinity Green. She sounded like the perfect naughty lover. Scott made sounds, spoke words, urged her on, told her how good, how perfect, how hot, how wonderful she was. And Trinity soared beyond any peak she’d ever achieved.
     
     
    “Do you want to come?” He toyed with her. It made her crazy, just as she’d been the other night while he watched her.
     
     
    “Yes,