Campus God (Campus)

“Do you like that?”

“Yes,” I whisper in surprise, “a lot.”

The world shrinks down until it’s only able to encompass the two of us. “I wish I could watch you touch yourself while getting off to the sound of my voice. I bet you look so fucking beautiful, spread out on the bed.”

The throbbing between my legs grows in intensity, becoming almost too much to bear.

“I just want to get my hands on you. Stroke those perfect titties before sucking them into my mouth. I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” I moan, imagining him doing exactly that. My eyes are squeezed tightly shut, and it takes a moment to realize the guy filling my thoughts is…Crosby. It’s his dark eyes staring back at me. His large hands coasting over my flesh. Even though I know it’s wrong, that mental image only stokes the flames of my desire. I tell myself that it’s only because I don’t know what Chris looks like.

That has to be the reason. It can’t be anything else.

“Now pinch the other nipple, just like you did to the first one,” he says, voice cutting sharply into my thoughts.

A gasp slips free from me as my back bows off the mattress.

“Put me on speaker,” he growls, “so you can use both hands.”

What?

My eyelids fly open as my movements still. “No, I can’t do that. I don’t want my roommate to hear you.”

Or me.

Especially me.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep my voice low. No one else will hear you come. The cries that fall from your lips are only for me.” There’s a pause. “You want to get off, don’t you?”

I chew my lower lip for a handful of seconds before finally caving in. There’s too much arousal crashing through my body for me to turn back now. And it’s been so long since I’ve had a good orgasm. Touching myself has never felt like this. In the past, I’ve always used my vibrator to take care of business, and it never lasts more than five or ten minutes. There’s always an end goal in mind, and that’s what I’m focused on reaching.

I’ve never taken the time to touch or play with my breasts, tweaking the little buds until they stiffen. I don’t slowly stroke my hands over my body, arousing myself to the point of no return. There’s no teasing whatsoever. The act is straightforward.

It’s not a conscious decision to hit the speaker button before setting the phone next to me on the pillow. More like a deep-seated need to see this experience through.

“Okay,” I whisper, “I’m ready.”

A low growl vibrates in my ear. “Your ex had no idea what he threw away, did he? What an idiot.”

I can’t argue with that. What makes no sense is that this guy—the one I have yet to meet—seems to understand my needs better than the person I was with for a year.

“You really are fucking perfect, you know that?”

“Hardly.”

“You’re so perfect I can barely stand it.”

My heart flips over beneath my breast, wishing that were true.

“Are you ready for more?”

“Yes.” So much more.

“I know you are, and I’m going to give it to you.” He clears his throat. “I want you to cup your breasts with both hands and feel the fullness of them. Now imagine that I’m beside you, admiring every gorgeous inch while I play with your body.”

The image he sears into my brain is so hot.

“Are you squeezing all that softness?”

“Yes.” I arch off the mattress as I massage my breasts. “Mmm, it feels so good to touch myself.”

“I bet it does,” he groans.

“I want you to roll your nipples with your forefingers and thumbs.”

My breath escapes in a shaky rush before I gasp, sucking it back inside.

“Give them a little pinch before tugging them.”

A shot of pleasure-infused pain spirals through me as a moan escapes from my parted lips.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Do you have any idea how much I want to get my hands on you?”

“I want that, too.” It’s the only thing that would make this experience better.

“I want you to cup your titties and press them together. Are they big enough to do that?”

“Yes.” It used to embarrass me that my breasts were so full. But at the moment, listening to the rasp of his heavy breathing float across the line and knowing he’s imagining the very same thing, I’m glad they are. And I like that it turns him on.

“I’d love to slide my cock right between them.”

The thought of him straddling me, pinning me to the mattress as he thrusts his dick against my flesh has a burst of pure heat exploding in my core.

“I’d drive it slowly back and forth. With each pass, I’d bring the tip to your lips for you to kiss and lick.”

The erotic image he paints is such a turn-on that it’s impossible to keep the whimper locked inside where it belongs.