( a kittenish snicker is let through the phone, giving a sultry little graze of fingertips as instructed, maroon nails grazing along the centre of her abdomen til she reaches the hem of that cropped sweater—a slow arch of notched spine causes bottom curve of her breasts to just peek in display, but she stops there, tongue splitting her lips. )
I bet you'd like that. ( she's still got a bit of that taunting edge to her tone, a hint of brooklyn in it's roots. only there's no use now denying what he's done to her, how she's wet at the heated apex of her thighs, how his voice is roughened enough to nearly encourage her to lay back on that bed once more. but she won't. not if he wants anyone to open that front door for him. )
You want me to spoil the surprise, carino? Tell me where you want me to touch. ( til you're here to do it for yourself. )
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I bet you'd like that. ( she's still got a bit of that taunting edge to her tone, a hint of brooklyn in it's roots. only there's no use now denying what he's done to her, how she's wet at the heated apex of her thighs, how his voice is roughened enough to nearly encourage her to lay back on that bed once more. but she won't. not if he wants anyone to open that front door for him. )
You want me to spoil the surprise, carino? Tell me where you want me to touch. ( til you're here to do it for yourself. )