“Clothing.” She laughed. “You’ve got to do better than that.”
Did he? “All right, then. I’ll get more specific. What kind of panties are you wearing?”
Greer hesitated for a moment. “Nothing exciting, I’m sorry to say. Beige granny panties.”
“Fuck, that’s hot.”
“It is?” A giggle escaped her, and that small laugh made his cock jerk in response. Just listening to her laugh was pure masturbation material. He loved it. Hell, he loved everything about her.
And it was time she realized how much. “You wearing beige panties is sexy to me because it tells me that you don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks. I love that about you.”
Instead of sounding pleased at the compliment, she gave an unhappy little sigh. “Yeah, the few times I tried to change to get someone else’s attention, it’s never worked out in my favor.”
“You mean me, don’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“I think it worked out just fine. Look at all the attention you’re getting from me.” His hand moved up his shaft, and he squeezed just under the crown of his cock. He pictured her hand on his skin, her fingers exploring him. A tremor of pleasure shot through his body and he had to bite back a groan.
Her breath caught. “Are you touching yourself right now, Asher?”
“I am. That bother you?”
“Why?” Her voice was breathless.
“Because you’re sexy as hell and I get hard every time I think about you. Why wouldn’t I touch myself when I talk to you? When I hear that sexy little laugh you do?”
She got quiet.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Don’t hang up. Don’t hang up.
A long pause, then her voice returned, but quieter than before. “I’ll tell you what I’m thinking if you’ll tell me exactly what you’re doing.”
Ah, fuck. She wanted to visualize it, did she? He’d give her everything she wanted and then some. “What do you want to know, baby?”
Greer hesitated, then said, “Where’s your hand at, Ash?”
“It’s on my cock.” Asher gave it a quick stroke, working the length expertly. “I kept picturing you curled up in bed and my dick got hard, so I decided to stroke it while I talked to you.” He heard her suck in a little breath. “Just being around you gets me hard,” he told her, continuing on. “Thinking about you does it for me. Hearing your voice? Even more. I had to wait to answer your text because I was in the elevator and I knew if I started thinking about you, I’d get hard.”
He could have sworn he’d heard her lips part. “Oh.”
“So I came into my apartment and headed straight for the bed so I could think about you while touching my cock. Imagining you touching it.” Fuck, he almost came just saying the words aloud. Precum dotted the head of his cock and he pictured her leaning in and tasting it, tasting him.
She was awful quiet.
“Am I shocking you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she breathed, and her voice was so sultry. Damn.
“But . . . you’re not hanging up.”
“I’m not,” she agreed faintly. And then her breath caught a little.
Ah, fuck. “You touching yourself for me, Greer?”
He heard her inhale. “I . . . maybe.”
Asher groaned. “You need to describe it to me. Where’s your hand? On your breast or in your panties?” His own was working his cock, a lot faster now that he knew she was into this, too.
“Panties.”
Fuck. Perfection. “Are you wet? Is your pussy all slick at the thought of me touching myself when I think of you?”
She whimpered, and the sound nearly made him come undone.
Was she too shy to talk dirty back to him? All right, he’d take the lead. “I’m picturing you in one of those little sweaters that you like, and some pants. No, wait, a skirt. And you’ve got it pushed up around your waist with your legs spread so you can play with your pussy while I talk to you. Am I right?”
She made a soft sound that might have been agreement.
Close enough. He’d keep going. “I’m picturing you all slick with honey. So slick that when your fingers touch your skin, they just glide over it like a whisper.” His own cock was as hard as granite, his balls tight against his shaft, desperate to spill in his hands. He wanted to coax more of a response out of her before he lost his load, though. “If I was touching you right now, I bet I’d find you soaked. Your pussy and your thighs would just be creamy with your honey, wouldn’t they?”
Her breathing escalated. She was quiet, but he could tell she was listening, and judging by the small, soft sounds she was making? She was into it.
“I can’t stop touching myself picturing you, Greer,” he told her, and his hand worked his cock harder. When he got to the head, he’d squeeze tight, trying to pull himself down off the ledge long enough for her to get what she needed out of this. “I’m picturing coming up behind you and lifting that little skirt of yours and finding your panties all soaked at the thought of me touching you. Hell, I wish you were here right now and it was your hand on my cock instead of mine. I’d love to watch you stroke it for me.”
“Y-you would?” Ah, Christ. There was so much tension in her soft little statement. Her breathing was faster than ever, her voice husky and almost as raw as his.
“Hell, yes,” he growled. “I’d lie back and just let you touch me however you wanted. You could use me how you liked . . . and if you put those sweet, honey-smeared thighs in my face, I wouldn’t complain. I’d just hold them tight and start licking.”