Sloth (Sinful Secrets 1)

I close my eyes. I imagine my finger is his finger. I’m so wet.

“My robe is coming off, Cleo. I hung it on the door, and I’m walking to my—to your bed. I’m on it now, Cleo. I’m naked. Can you see my chest and shoulders? Can you see my dick? I’m stroking it. Squeezing it. It’s hard. Getting harder.”

I rub circles around my clit, tensing my legs. “Does it... hurt?”

“I’m sore, but you didn’t break it, Cleo. It’s ready for that pussy.”

I picture his hard length standing at attention, long and thick and striped with veins. His hand around it, stroking as his balls bounce underneath.

“Can you stroke your clit with your thumb while you slide another finger inside? I want you to feel full, so when you close your eyes and imagine my cock, you can almost feel it. Almost.” He laughs, a low, throaty sound that turns me on even more. “Are your fingers in your pussy, Cleo?”

I’ve been holding back, but now I spread my legs and push two fingers in. My clit throbs, and I can’t swallow my moan.

“Your pretty lips are around my cock. Now you’re taking it down your soft throat. I’m thrusting in and out of your mouth, pushing myself down your throat, because I’m getting close. Do you have a vibrator?”

I can’t speak, so I just swallow. I lie still for a minute, with my fingers in my pussy and my thumb stroking my swollen clit. Then I reach over to my nightstand drawer and pull my little bullet out.

“I trust you’ve got your vibrator in hand. Blow on it a couple times. Get it nice and warm, and then position it right over your clit. You’re throbbing, aren’t you Cleo? I can smell how wet you are.”

He’s right. I’m practically gushing.

“I’m wet, too. I’m so fucking hard for you, I’m leaking. I’m so hard it almost hurts. My balls are drawing up and that does hurts, Cleo. That’s your fault. But it’s a good hurt.”

I drag my finger through my pussy lips and swirl it over my clit. I’m starting to pant, so I angle the phone away from my mouth.

“Turn on your vibrator. If you pulled your fingers out of your pussy, I want you to stuff them back in, nice and deep. Unless you have a dildo. Do you have a dildo?”

“No,” I rasp.

“Stuff yourself. Two fingers. Shove in as far as you can go and imagine my dick buried deep inside you. I’m thrusting in and out of you. Then I’m dragging my tongue over your clit. Rub the vibrator over yourself and feel my tongue. It’s soft and hot. I’m teasing you. I’m lapping down around your cunt. Licking back up to your clit, so everything is soft and slick.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Work my fingers in and out of myself. Hold the bullet to my clit.

“I’m thrusting into you. Slamming my hips into yours straining to get deeper. You spread your legs as far as they can spread and I bury myself in you.”

“Yes,” I pant. I don’t mean to. I just... can’t help myself.

“I’m coming now, Cleo.”

I hear a low, rough groan—and that’s all it takes for me. I roll over the edge with a little gasp, and I hear Kellan’s chuckle. “Did you come, Cleo?”

I shut my eyes and breathe as he says, “I blew my load imagining that pussy. This is the last time I’m going to imagine it.”

I shake my head and curl over on my side, hugging myself as all the tingles work themselves out of me. “You’re wrong,” I say. “I didn’t come.”

Another laugh. “I heard you panting. You’re lying.”

“That’s not true.” I can’t believe I did that. Holy shit.

“Tomorrow, Cleo. Pack your bags.”

It’s 7:48 a.m. when I drop the post card in one of the campus mail bins and trudge toward my first class: calculus for business. I plan to start my own learn-to-paint shop, so I know I’ll need some business skills. I just don’t understand why calculus is necessary. And I definitely don’t understand why they put the sorority houses on the east side of campus when so many science and math buildings are on the far west side.

That’s a lie. I do. Sexist bastards.

I look down at my feet as I walk—at my ankle-high leather boots and black leggings. I’m wearing a black shawl, too, with a black shirt underneath. All black today. Because it suits my mood.

I feel... weighted. As if there’s an itty-bitty black hole behind my sternum, collapsing me from the inside out. I just want to sink down to the ground. And spread my legs. And think of...