Книга Dirty Talk - читать онлайн бесплатно, автор Jane O'Reilly. Cтраница 2
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Dirty Talk
Dirty Talk
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Dirty Talk

‘Now, Sally,’ he said. ‘Now.’

Hot strands of thick come coated her face, her lips, her tongue as her orgasm rushed through her. She cried out her pleasure as he spilled his seed all over her face.

I stop reading. My pussy is wet and my back is slippery with perspiration. I’m so strung up and aroused and shocked that I can barely breathe. I always find that scene exciting. I always masturbate after I read it. It’s the only way I can persuade my body to calm, to settle. But that’s a private thing, a secret thing, and this isn’t private, or secret. ‘Phil?’

A silence. A space. A pause. I force myself to breathe.

‘Yeah?’

‘Are you OK?’

‘Absolutely,’ he says. ‘Are you?’

I don’t know. ‘Of course.’

‘Do you have a lot of books like that?’

‘A few,’ I admit, turning my hand over and looking at my nails. Even though he can’t see me, I’m blushing like mad. Because I’ve just realised something. The reason why I can’t get past paragraph three. The reason why everything I write sounds wrong. ‘Phil, can I ask you something?’

‘Sure.’

‘I think that…I think that the problem is that I can’t picture the male character. Every time I try to write something, that’s where I get stuck. And I think that if…if I had someone I could base him on, I’d be able to do it.’

‘Like a muse?’

‘Yes,’ I say, clinging onto that word, because it makes it sound like something arty and serious, instead of kinky and weird. ‘Exactly like that. I need a muse.’

‘I could do that,’ he says, his tone thoughtful. ‘Shall I come round tomorrow, after work?’

‘OK,’ I say. ‘Yes. Fine. See you then.’

And then I end the call. I toss the phone onto the bed and stare at it, my hands pressed against my cheeks like a real life version of The Scream. What have I done? When did I become the sort of person that does this sort of thing?

And when did I start to like it?

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