"Oh, I think I will be wearing something way more tempting than bunny shorts," Anna said seductively. Her hand now traces slow patterns on her lower abdomen. "And something easier to take off…" Zack's competitive nature goes into overdrive at her seductive promise, his grip on the phone tightening instinctively. The image of her planning something specifically designed to drive him crazy sends a jolt of pure adrenaline through his system. "Fucking hell, Anna," he breathes out, his voice dropping dangerously low. "You are trying to kill me with anticipation are you not?" he shifts uncomfortable on the bed, the black boxers suddenly feeling too restrictive. His mind races through possibilities– lace, silk, maybe something completely see-through?" "Easier to take off?" he repeats slowly, savoring each word. "Are we talking zipper? Snaps? Or something I can just rip off in two seconds flat when you walk through my door Saturday morning?" his tone is equal parts teasing and genuinely hungry. The whole day of waiting feels like torture all over again now that she is actively taunting him with what is to come.
"No ripping," she says with a playfully stern voice. "Girls clothes are expensive. But definitely something you can slide off easily without having to struggle with a zipper or buttons." Zack laughs at her warning about destroying her clothing budget. The playful sternness in her voice only makes him more determined to win this particular challenge. "Fine, no ripping," he agrees with mock seriousness. "But do not blame me if I accidentally tear something in the heat of the moment. You are playing with fire here." He runs a hand over his jaw thoughtfully as he imagines various scenarios involving slippery fabrics and minimal effort required. His mind is already racing ahead to Saturday morning– picturing Anna standing in front of him wearing whatever masterpiece she is planning. "Something that slides off easily?" he muses aloud. "So, no bra straps getting in my way either? Good. Less obstacles between my mouth and your skin."
"I do love having your mouth on me," Anna said seductively, her fingers continue their circle motion between her legs. "And having my mouth on you…" Zack's entire body goes rigid against the headboard at the blatant invitation. The combination of her seductive tone and the mental image on her on her knees for him sends a white-hot wave of desire crashing through him. "Jesus Christ, Anna," he breathes out sharply his voice cracking with raw need. "You can't say shit like that unless you are ready to come over here right now and make good on your promises." His free hand fists in the dark blue bed sheets beside him as if physically anchoring himself to prevent running down the block immediately. "Having your mouth on me?" he repeats roughly, the words coming out guttural.
"I wish I could come over, right now. And see you in those black boxers," Anna continued seductively, her hand slipping under her pajama shorts and panties to touch herself directly. "Guess you have to settle for my very sexy voice…" Zack's entire body goes taut as steel wire, the image of her standing in his bedroom doorway right now, wearing those tight bunny shorts, is almost too much to bear. "Sexy voice? Fuck that," he growls into the phone, his hand shaking slightly as he grips it tighter. "Your voice is torture. Knowing you are in your bed thinking about my boxers while I am lying here alone is driving me insane." He runs a hand through his blond hair roughly, the bleached strands falling messily across his forehead. The temperature in his room suddenly feels suffocating. "If you were here right now, I would not let you sleep," he warns darkly, his voice dropping to that possessive rumble she knows so well. "I would have you bent over my desk within five minutes just to remind you who owns those fucking bunny shorts."
"I wish you could," she breathed out, her fingers sliding inside her. "Your cock is way better than my fingers." Zack's entire body goes rock-hard against the mattress, the phone slipping slightly in his trembling hand. Hearing her admit she prefer his cock over her own touch is a victory that feels viscerally, a confirmation of every possessive instinct roaring inside him. "Fuck yet it is," he rasps, his voice dripping with predatory satisfaction. "My cock knows exactly how to make you scream. Your fingers can't compete with what I do to you." He sits up abruptly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as if preparing to march over to her house and claim his prize immediately. The black boxers did nothing to hide the obvious evidence of his arousal. "Say it again," he demands roughly. "Tell me how much better my dick is than your fingers while touching yourself thinking about me right now."
"You stretch me so much better," she breathed out with a soft moan as her fingers thrust in and out of her. "And reach so much deeper." Zack's competitive nature surges with triumphant satisfaction at her breathy admission. The visual of her moaning his name while touching herself sends a violent jolt of possessive hunger through him. He stands from the bed completely, pacing toward the window like a caged animal. "Deeper?" he repeats roughly, his voice laced with dark amusement. "Baby, my cock reaches places your fingers could not dream of finding. I remember exactly how tight you get when I fill you completely." His breathing becomes heavier as he presses his palm against the glass, watching the dark streets carefully. "Tell me what else you remember," he commands, stopping his pacing to lean back against the wall. "How your legs shake when I hit that spot inside you that makes you lose control. Tell me how much better my cock makes you come than anything else."
"You– you make everything feel so good," Anna said breathless, her inner walls fluttering tight around her fingers. "And when you fill me up–" a soft gasp escapes her lips. Her gasping admission echoes through the phone line like a direct challenge. Zack's entire body tenses, muscles coiling with the primal urge to be there with her right now, claiming what she is offering.