Hold The Phone: Chatty Cathy

Gizelle's alone in the bedroom, heat crawling under her skin. She's been waiting. When the door swings open and Jayden breezes in, she can't shut up about some office drama. Gizelle leans back, smirks, tries a low voice and a lingering touch on Jayden's thigh. It almost pulls her in. Almost. Then the phone rings. Jayden picks up. One ear is still on Gizelle, the other on the gossip. Gizelle hates sharing. She slides closer, fingers walking over cotton and then under it. Jayden bites her lip, clears her throat, keeps talking. Heat builds. Gizelle gets bolder—palm flat, grip firm, mouth on Jayden's neck. The little gasps come through, harder to swallow. Jayden shoots her a look, tries to wave her off, but her hips already move with it. "No, just the dog," she lies into the phone, voice cracking. Gizelle won't be ignored. She peels Jayden open, fingers working quick and deep. Pleasure coils tight. Jayden's breathing splits; her story stumbles. The other voice goes sharp. "What was that?" Jayden can't hold the line anymore. The phone drops. The bed creaks. She drags Gizelle over her and takes what she wants, no distractions left, all friction and heat, nowhere to hide.