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Your fingers are already buried deep when Mark picks up. You don’t bother hiding it. Can’t. The moment the call connects, the speaker fills with the sound of your breathless, uneven moans. It takes him less than a second to catch on.
“Shit—” His voice is hoarse, like he wasn’t expecting this. “You’re already—?”
You let out a shaky breath, your body thrumming with need, the frustration from earlier still lingering at the edges of your pleasure. You know he hears it in your voice, the mix of want and something else—something like payback.
“You—” Your breath catches as your fingers curl just right, pulling another whimper from your throat. “You started it.”
Mark huffs out a quiet, breathy chuckle, but there’s no teasing in it this time. Just something deeper, something strained.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice dropping low. “Guess I did.”
Silence stretches between you for a moment, but it’s not empty. It’s thick, heavy, charged with the sound of your movements, the quiet, breathy noises you can’t hold back. Mark doesn’t say anything at first—just listens, breathing steady, like he’s grounding himself. Then, his voice cuts through the static.
“You called me,” he says, slow and deliberate. “Just to hear my voice, huh?”
You nod before realizing he can’t see you, a breathless “Mhm” slipping past your lips instead.
His exhale is shaky this time, like that tiny confirmation did something to him. Like he’s realizing exactly how much control he has over you right now.
“That’s all you need, isn’t it?” Mark murmurs, his voice softer now. “Just my voice, talking you through it.”
You whimper, pressing the phone closer, like it’ll make his voice sink deeper under your skin. Your body feels hot, sensitive, every nerve hanging onto every word he says.
“Poor baby,” he murmurs, voice thick with something you can’t name. “Still so worked up over that video, huh?”
A tiny whine slips out before you can stop it.
Mark catches it instantly. “You mad at me, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” you breathe, but it’s so weak, so broken, it’s not convincing at all.
“Yeah?” He sounds amused, but not mocking—just taking his time with you. Letting you feel everything. “That why you’re whining like that? Why you’re falling apart on the phone for me?”
You squeeze your eyes shut, breath shaky. “You—” You gasp, your hand faltering for just a second. “You messed with me.”
Mark hums, like he’s considering it. “Maybe. But you’re not really mad.” His voice dips lower, coaxing, patient. “Are you?”
You bite your lip, trying to hold back the answer, but your body betrays you. Your hips jerk up into your own touch, breath catching on a desperate moan, and Mark hears all of it.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs. “You needed this.”
You don’t answer, but the soft, broken sounds you let out say enough.
“Let me help, baby,” Mark says, and there’s something so gentle in his voice it makes your chest ache. “You’re doing so good for me. Just keep going. Nice and slow.”
His praise makes you whimper again, your body responding to it instantly. Your fingers move faster, pushing you closer, and Mark hears it—every tiny shift, every breathless gasp.
“That’s it,” he breathes. “So fucking good for me.”
You can barely think anymore, the pleasure winding tight, hot, overwhelming.
“Mark,” you whisper, voice trembling, hands desperate.
“I’m right here,” he says, voice steady, guiding. “Not going anywhere. Just let go, baby. You’ve got it.”
Your body obeys before your mind does. The pleasure slams into you, sharp and dizzying, stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasp, shaking, your entire body unraveling, and Mark hears it. The soft, helpless whimpers slipping past your lips, the way you tremble through the aftershocks.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, voice full of warmth. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”
You let out a shuddering breath, still coming down, heart hammering in your chest. Mark stays quiet for a moment, just listening, letting you breathe.
When you finally find your voice again, it’s barely above a whisper.
“I… Mark,” you start, but your throat is dry, your mind still hazy. “I—I need to hear you again… but not tonight.”
Silence. Not long, but long enough for your stomach to twist with anticipation.
Then, his voice, softer now. “I hear you, baby.”
You exhale, tension slipping from your shoulders, but it doesn’t take the ache with it. You want him. You’re going to have him. Just… not tonight.
And he knows it, too.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Mark says, voice steady, patient. “I’ll be right here.”
Your breath stutters, something deep inside you curling tight at the promise in his words.
“I… I’ll be ready,” you murmur. “Just not tonight.”
Mark hums, like he already knew that. “Good night, baby,” he murmurs, voice still warm, still wrapped around you. “Sleep well. And when you’re ready… we’ll finish what we started.”
The call ends with a soft click, leaving you lying there, breathless, heart racing, skin still tingling.
And you know.
This isn’t over.
Not even close.