“Answer the question,” he demanded.
At the command in his voice, she shivered and clenched her thighs together. “Yoga pants and a T-shirt.”
“Take off your pants.”
“Here?” she gasped. “Now?”
“Yes, Presley. Right there. Right now.” His voice had dropped even deeper, and it affected her right down to her toes. Her body flamed with a heat that only he could conjure as he continued. “Take off your pants and your panties.”
With simply his command to urge her on, she slid out of her comfy pants, taking her panties off, too. The warm air in the room seemed ice-cold against the fiery flesh between her thighs.
A moment later, Dmitri asked, “Are you naked from the waist down?”
“Yes,” she stated. “I feel very naked.”
He chuckled. “Of course you do, you are naked.” Then his voice slid into the sexy low register, making her quiver. “Place your hand on that sweet pussy. Are you wet?”
Running her hand down her stomach, she cupped herself and was slightly shocked—or maybe not so much—when she brushed against her lower lips. “Yes.”
“Very nice,” he murmured. “Stroke yourself and spread your juices all over you.” She did as she was told, and her breath hitched. “Drag the moisture up to your clit and circle it. Does it feel good, love?”
The second her finger brushed across her nub, she wiggled her hips and moaned. “So good.”
“Press harder now.” His voice had sharpened, making her sizzle from her head right down to her curled toes.
She put more pressure against herself and drew her knees up as he told her, “Rub harder and think back to my lips on yours. How I traveled down your neck to the place that makes you shiver. Imagine my flogger when it thumped along your ass, and how much you want my tongue to lick up your sweet cunt.”
Those images—and naughty words—had her shifting her hips, gasping, and Dmitri chuckled. “Ah, I see you’re enjoying yourself. Keep going and circle your hips. Ride against your fingers.”
As she bit down on her lip, zings of pleasure flicked up her body like wildfire and made pressure rise low in her body. Each swirl of her hips connected with her nub in a way she’d never experienced while masturbating, and the weight of his voice, his command, drove her higher.
“Remember how my whip kissed your skin like flames, how my finger felt in your tight ass, and how your orgasm felt with all those people watching you.” As her breath hitched on a moan, he added, “Now swirl your fingers. Move your hips. Press harder. Go faster.”
Pressing down on her clit in a hard demand, she worked her hips in time with the whirls against her flesh. Dmitri’s breath sounded rough through the receiver and urged her to move faster. “Oh, God.” Was she there already? In what, minutes? Even alone with her vibrator, she took twenty minutes to get off. Now she screwed her eyes shut as tension filled her body. Her muscles clenched, and her breath became trapped in her throat.
“Faster, Presley,” Dmitri ordered. “Even faster.”
She gripped the phone tightly and moved faster, moaning against the intense pressure as he took her higher . . . and higher . . .
“You will come now for me, Presley. I want to hear it, doll.”
As if his order itself had power over her, she gasped a hard long breath before she sucked it back into her lungs, then she held it as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, arching her back off the bed. When she lowered to the bed, her breath whooshed out, and she gave little wiggles against her fingers to ride out her climax.
Once her breath settled, her whimpers drew quiet, and she’d recovered from the aftereffects of her release, he asked, “Are you feeling more relaxed?”
“Yes.” She exhaled, boneless, too.
“Good.” The heat that had enriched his voice vanished, replaced with a stern sharp demand. “Now go to sleep, Presley.”
* * *
Dmitri finished off the steak and potatoes he’d picked up at the casino’s restaurant on the way home
from work. Then he placed the plate in the dishwasher in his modern kitchen. He missed cooking his own meals, but with the long hours he worked, a home-cooked meal during the week was something of the past.
He grabbed his beer and cell phone off the marble counter, then he strode toward the living room across the hall, where a wide-screen television was fitted into a huge entertainment center against the far wall—costing him more than he’d care to think about—and two black leather couches surrounded an oversize glass coffee table.
After he placed his beer and phone on the table, he picked up the remote and flicked on the sports channel to catch the replay. When he saw that his favorite football team had lost, he cursed and dropped down on the couch. Shaking his head in disappointment, he muted the television and grabbed his phone. He dialed Presley, and she answered on the first ring. He smiled as the sound of her voice made him unable to do anything else. “You’re sounding much more rested.”