Free Debauched (Undone Book 3) by Jennifer Dawson Page B

please.”
    “I will, Ruby, I promise you that. Until then, lift your breast and do it for me.”
    “I don’t think I can.” That’s too wicked. But even as I protest I want it, to pretend it’s him.
    “We’ll see. Won’t we?”
    “I…” I trail off.
    “Here’s what we’re going to do.”
    “Okay.”
    “We’re going to get off the phone and when we do, you’re going to come hard for me. I want you to let it all go, okay? Don’t think about anything. You’re by yourself. You don’t even have to tell me what you did. I only have three requirements. Okay?”
    “I’m listening.” I want to come so bad I’m about to explode.
    “I want you to think of me, standing over you, my tongue sliding over your nipples. I want you to be completely abandoned. And lastly, I want you to do whatever comes naturally. I don’t want you to censor yourself at all. Does that sound fair?”
    I nod and realize he can’t see me. “Yes. I’ll try.”
    “Good girl. In return, I won’t even ask. Won’t even hint. You won’t have to tell me anything you did or thought. Unless you want to, of course.”
    “Never,” I gasp out.
    He laughs. “Entirely your choice, girl. Come hard. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    And with that, he’s gone.
    I put the phone down. Thinking about the heat that laces all our conversations. The ways he makes me burn with something I don’t even have a name for. I close my eyes and think of him, exactly the way he described, as he instructed. I shudder.
    I pull and tease my nipples as I’ve never done before. I promised him abandoned and even though he’s not here and he’ll never know, I give it to him. Here, by myself, with no one to worry about, I can be free.
    I throw my head back, and tug on the hard buds, plucking them over and over again as I moan. My hips rise of their own volition. I call out his name into the darkness, feeling silly and hot all at the same time.
    And finally, when I can stand it no more, I raise my breast; tilt my head and lick, my tongue brushing the very tip of my nipple. It throws me off a cliff I’ve never let myself experience, and I shove my hand between my legs, rubbing my clit as my tongue flicks over my nipple and I envision Chad watching me. Alternating between my lips and his.
    I come in an explosion, crying out in abandon as the orgasm rocks through me. Reeling through a climax that goes on and on, barreling over me in endless, violent, mind-numbing waves.
    When I finally settle, I curl up on my side and wish he was behind me, keeping me warm. My last thought before I drift into a dreamless sleep was I want him to know, simply so he can understand his power over me.

 
     
     

     
    My phone rings at nine-o-one the following morning, about four minutes after I sit down at my desk. I work for a small specialty ad agency as a graphic designer. It’s a job, and at least it’s kind of creative, and I don’t have to sit around looking at numbers and spreadsheets all day.
    It’s not my dream or anything. It pays the bills.
    I’m not sure I know what my dreams are these days.
    Before I can turn introspective, a trend it seems, I pick up my cell. “I’m impressed you waited this long.”
    Layla’s laugh fills the line. There was a time I thought I’d never hear her laugh again and the sound is still music to my ears. That period of time, when Layla’s fiancé John had died, was the darkest time in my life, although it was much worse for Layla. He’d been my friend, and I’d grown up sheltered in this small, perfect town, bad things happened to other people.
    But when Layla speaks, her voice is happy. “Michael insisted I wait until at least nine before I hound you.”
    A small smile flits over my lips, tight and a touch swollen from my night with Chad. I run a finger over my mouth. True to his word, we’d made out like a couple of teenagers, yet there was something erotic and dirty about the way Chad kissed. Something addictive no sixteen-year-old