The phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling me from the edge of sleep. I cracked an eye open, squinting at the screen. Lucas. A smile tugged at my lips, instantly erasing the grogginess. He was three time zones away, stuck in some boring business meeting, but even the distance couldn’t dampen the heat between us. I answered with a husky whisper, my voice already thick with anticipation.

“Hey,” I purred, propping myself up on one elbow. The sheets were cool against my bare skin, a stark contrast to the warmth pooling low in my belly.

“Hey, beautiful,” Lucas’s deep voice rumbled through the line, sending a shiver down my spine. “Miss me?”

“More than you know,” I admitted, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on my stomach. “What about you? Missing my mouth wrapped around your cock?”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating deliciously in my ear. “Always. But tonight, I want you to do something different.”

My brow arched. Lucas was usually the one calling the shots, but when he got that tone in his voice, the one that hinted at a challenge, I couldn’t resist. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“I want you to guide me,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “Tell me exactly what to do. Make me beg for it.”

My heart skipped a beat. Lucas was a dominant man, both in and out of the bedroom, but this—this was a side of him I hadn’t seen before. The thought of him surrendering control, even just for a moment, sent a thrill through me. I leaned back against the pillows, my mind already spinning with possibilities.

“Alright,” I said slowly, savoring the power in my voice. “But you have to do exactly as I say. No questions, no hesitation. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his tone obedient, yet laced with a hint of mischief.

I smirked, my fingers drifting lower, teasing the hem of my silk pajama shorts. “Good boy. Now, tell me, Lucas. Are you hard yet?”

There was a pause, just long enough to make my pulse quicken. “Not yet,” he admitted, his voice rough. “But I will be soon.”

“Oh, I can fix that,” I promised, my voice dripping with confidence. “Start by unbuttoning your pants. Slowly. I want to imagine you struggling to keep your hands steady.”

I heard the soft rustle of fabric over the line, the sound sending a jolt of excitement through me. I closed my eyes, picturing him, his broad shoulders hunched over, his fingers trembling as he fumbled with the buttons.

“That’s it,” I encouraged, my voice low and sultry. “Take your time. I want you to savor every moment.”

“Fuck, Melissa,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “You’re killing me.”

“That’s the idea,” I teased, my fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my shorts, brushing against the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “Now, slide your hand inside. I want you to feel how hard you are for me.”

His sharp intake of breath was music to my ears. “Jesus, you’re good at this,” he muttered, his voice strained.

“I know,” I purred, my fingers drifting closer to the damp heat between my legs. “Now, stroke yourself. Slow and steady. Imagine it’s my hand on you, my lips brushing against the tip of your cock.”

The line went silent except for the sound of his ragged breathing and the faint, rhythmic squelch of his hand moving against his skin. My own breath hitched as I mirrored his actions, my fingers slipping between my folds, teasing the swollen bud of my clit.

“Faster,” I commanded, my voice shaking slightly. “But not too fast. I want you to edge, Lucas. I want you to feel like you’re about to explode, but I don’t want you to come. Not yet.”

“You’re fucking cruel,” he gasped, his voice raw with desire.

“I know,” I repeated, a smug smile playing on my lips. “Now, tell me, what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to touch yourself,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I want to hear you moan my name.”

My fingers obeyed without hesitation, slipping deeper, circling my clit in slow, torturous patterns. “Like this?” I asked, my voice breathy as a soft moan escaped my lips.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his voice tight with restraint. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”

I didn’t. My fingers moved in sync with his, our breaths intertwining over the line, a symphony of need and anticipation. The tension built, coil upon coil, until I was trembling, my thighs clenching around my hand.

“Lucas,” I whispered, my voice a plea. “I’m so close.”

“Not yet,” he commanded, his voice firm despite the strain. “Not until I say so.”

I bit my lip, fighting the urge to surrender to the building pressure. “You’re so cruel,” I panted, my fingers slowing reluctantly.

“And you love it,” he countered, his voice smug. “Now, keep going. But slower. I want to make this last.”

I obeyed, my movements agonizingly slow, each stroke a tease, a promise of what was to come. The phone felt slick in my hand, my palm damp with sweat, mirroring the wetness between my legs.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he demanded, his voice dark with desire. “Tell me what you’d do if I were there right now.”

My eyes fluttered closed as I painted the picture for him, my voice thick with lust. “I’d push you back onto the bed, rip your pants off, and take your cock in my mouth. I’d suck you so deep, you’d be seeing stars.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice breaking. “Keep talking. Don’t stop.”

I didn’t. My words flowed freely, each one a stroke, a caress, a promise of pleasure. I described every detail, from the way my lips would wrap around him, to the sound of his moans as I swallowed him whole.

“Melissa,” he warned, his voice tight. “I’m close.”

“Not yet,” I echoed his earlier command, my voice firm. “Not until I’m ready.”

He let out a frustrated growl, but he obeyed, his breathing ragged as he fought for control. I smiled, a wicked gleam in my eye, even though he couldn’t see it. This was my game now, and I intended to play it to the fullest.

Minutes stretched into an eternity, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, until I could feel the orgasm hovering just out of reach, a tantalizing promise.

“Now,” I finally whispered, my voice a husky command. “Come for me, Lucas. Let go.”

His groan was primal, raw, as his release tore through him. I could hear the wet sounds over the line, the smack of his hand against his skin, the hoarse cries of his name on my lips.

My own orgasm crashed into me a second later, a wave of pleasure so intense it stole my breath. My body arched off the bed, my fingers buried deep within me, my cries echoing his, a symphony of release.

The world spun for a moment, the only sounds our heavy breathing and the faint static of the phone line. Slowly, I came back to myself, my heart still pounding, my skin damp with sweat.

“Fuck,” Lucas finally managed, his voice hoarse. “That was… incredible.”

I laughed, a soft, satisfied sound. “Told you I was good at this.”

“You’re amazing,” he corrected, his voice warm with admiration. “I can’t wait to see you, Melissa. To touch you, to taste you…”

My smile widened at the hunger in his voice. “Two more days,” I reminded him, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on my stomach. “And then you’re all mine.”

“Two days,” he echoed, his voice a promise. “Until then, I’ll be counting the seconds.”

We stayed on the line for a while longer, our conversation drifting from the explicit to the mundane, the anticipation for our reunion hanging heavy between us. When we finally hung up, I lay there in the darkness, a satisfied smile on my lips, the memory of his voice, his moans, his surrender, replaying in my mind like a private, erotic film.

Two days. It couldn’t come soon enough.