bakerstreet | Phone sex & Sexting

[ She's good at pushing him, that's true. Good at nudging at his limits and trying to work him into something else. He knows what she's angling for, after all, and he knows that he's going to give in sooner or later.

But why give in too easily? ]

Well, it's true. [ While he is restrained, self controlled, he is also rarely anything but honest. ] And that's true, though it does look very good on you. Planning on changing, were you?

[A moment of silence on her side, it's her cue to listen to any sounds coming from his end — papers being flipped, the tapping of a pen, and most of all, Nanami's voice. All of that combined is surpringly soothing to her, enough to calm her nerves... but it's his earnestness behind his words that evokes a drawn-out exhale out of her. It gets her heart pumping.]

I was thinking of changing into something a little more... comfortable.

[A deliberate pause, then a light rustling of fabric can be heard from her end. Her voice retains softness, but now drops an octave lower. Around him, she doesn't need to pretend to be the perfect office assistant. Why should she? He has seen right through her.]

If I close my eyes while I lay down, it's like you're right next to me.

[ That heavy sigh, the silk in her words, the shifting of fabric - he doesn't need to work hard to figure out what she's working towards. Her intentions are fairly clear. And as much as he tries to be the responsible worker, the authoritative presence, he can't say that he's complaining about it, either.

His voice remains level as always, no hint of a smile. ]

Were you, now?

[ He closes his eyes for a moment too, though. Thinking of her. ]

I think I'd much prefer to be there.

[A soft laugh escapes from her lips. If only Nanami were to see her right now, then he'd be greeted by the sight of her dress partially unbuttoned to expose her bra, a blush on her cheeks, a bright shine to her eyes.

And a manicured hand fondling one of her own breasts.

This is how much power he truly holds over her, even from several distances away.]

And here I am, wishing to be in the office with you instead.

[The breathiness of her voice intensifies. She closes her eyes, rustling the fabric of her dress some more.]

Tell me what to do, and I'll follow your orders.

[ And what a shame it is he's not there to appreciate it. She always looks particularly beautiful when she's warm and eager. ]

It is tempting, though I fear I'd get much less work done if you were here. You're very good at distracting me.

[ And given Nanami's personality, even saying that is quite some praise. ]

Though I'd hate for you to be too bored without me. Were you hoping I'd tell you to touch yourself?

[She's worked with him long enough to be familiar with his usual personality — the kind of man who would never freely give out praises unless it felt earned. As such his words are never cheap, filled with a surprising amount of warmth when he compliments her sincerely.

And a lot of heat when he talks to her like he does now.]

Oh, Mister Nanami...!

[An incredulous gasp cuts through the sounds of rubbing fabric, followed by a soft moan. Does he know how sensual he's being at this moment? She can't help but wonder.]

If I said yes, where do you want me to touch first? I still have my dress on.

[ It's true, that he only says something when he means it. No idle flattery. No simply trying to charm her, or tell her what she wants to hear. Just his honest feelings.

And right now, he feels that he needs her. Of course he does.

He feels a shudder of heat run through him at her noises, her moan, and is glad the office is effectively empty around him. ]

Perhaps you should take it off. [ He pauses for a moment before adding: ] Slowly. Run your hands over every inch of skin you bare. Take your time.

[Ambrosia senses her heart beating in time to her breaths, rubbing her thighs together and wrinkling her dress even further. So much thrill crawling up her spine from the sound of Nanami's voice alone — that he could even order her around through the phone only excites her.]

Slowly...

[Her eyes remain closed, depriving her sight to focus on the rest of her senses. Perhaps it's best that she's not in his office right now, or else she'd be distracted by his occasional fidgeting of the leopard printed tie he usually wears. Oh, to be that tie around his neck...

To be touched by his strong fingers.

Her imagination grows wild as she finishes unbuttoning her dress, mentally replacing her delicate digits pushing the fabric off her shoulders with his sturdy ones. Heat courses down her body with each inch of her skin exposed, past her ridiculous lacy bra and panties, until she lets the outfit drop to the floor.]

Should I tell you what lingerie I'm wearing?

[Her question is in a heated whisper, relentless sauciness laid on nice and thick in between careful strokes of her neck with one hand. She muffles a gasp by biting her lip, her middle and index finger from the other hand pinching a nipple through her bra.]

[ The orders come easily, too. Just part of his personality, to speak with authority, to tell her exactly what he wants without even blinking. Is it just because of their relationship as boss and secretary, or something deeper? Who can say?

Ah, but if only he were the one undressing her. He can imagine it, as he hears the rustling of her clothes. How soft her skin is, how full her breasts. How sensitive she is to his touch. And yet he's stuck here, at least for now. ]

I suppose you had better, since I can't see it for myself, yet.

[ Not that he hasn't seen a few of her sets already. Enough to imagine, how the soft and lacy cups of her bra might cradle her, or how the crotch of her panties might already look darkened and damp in one of her lighter, softer pairs. ]

Just don't rush. I'll decide how much pleasure you feel.

[Working with authority figures comes naturally to Ambrosia, complete with a polite smile and carefully crafted words that are essentially part and parcel of her role. Except behind her hardworking mask lies a woman who feels something bitter. Overworked. Empty.

Kento Nanami is the only boss she's ever had who makes her feel alive.

She shivers at the sensation of her own smooth skin, of her splayed fingers sliding down her neck and tracing the contours of her breasts. If only it were his hands.]

It's white, with a tiny bow in the middle.

[Sure enough, the bra's cups mold her generous chest like a second skin. His voice manipulates her body through sheer depth and huskiness alone, and the effects are swift — hardened nipples poking through the fabric of her bra, a damp spot on her panties, her own breathing turning erratic, sweat drops on her flushed face.]

The clasp is at the front.

[ If nothing else, she can always rely on Nanami to make sure that she's well rested after a long day, in one way or another.

Like now. He can hear the heat in her voice. The urgency. She's getting worked up so quickly, and he's barely pushed it that far. His eyes close over for a moment, picturing her heavenly breasts, her nipples straining against the material. Begging to be pinched, sucked, nibbled.

Perfection. ]

Open it. Play with your nipples for me, just lightly. Tease them.

[ And then, not long after: ] Now pinch. Firmly. Like I would.

[Karma must've been generous for once; it made sure she found her ideal man in Nanami. Intelligent, resourceful, strong, warm, earnest.

And absurdly sexy with little effort.

Oh, how she longs to have his face buried between her breasts, his hot breath warming her skin. Just the image whets her appetite and heats up her core. The sound of an undone clasp is soon followed by a breathy moan. A soft yelp, and then...]

M-Mister... Nanami...!

[Urgent cries leave her lips unrestrained. Ambrosia is at her most debauched — breasts bared to the chilled air, covered by her trembling fingers that dimple warm flesh with each firm grope. Her nipples turn red and swollen between her index fingers and thumbs, and there's a pretty cry out of her mouth. Not even the dark rings of flesh surrounding her nipples are spared by persistent hands, the flats of her fingertips tracing them with such urgency.

She lets out a frustrated groan. The textures are off. Fingers aren't calloused or thick enough. Her nipples are covered by sweat, not his saliva. She can't feel his mouth or teeth.]

[ And she knows, doesn't she, that he'd love to be there? To feel her breasts full and soft in his palms. To squeeze her, claim her. To kiss over her smooth skin, to taste her sweetness, to tease her nipples with mouth and teeth and anything else. To make her squirm and moan and beg for more.

It's going to be hard for him to focus like this, isn't it? ]

Giving in already? You're too sensitive for your own good. I haven't even told you to reach between your legs, yet.

[ Though he's sure that she's aching, tingling, dripping in her panties. And he can't wait to see that for himself, too. ]

Is that what you want? Permission for more?

[She knows what she wants: him. To comb her fingers through his hair, his teeth leaving behind marks on her neck and chest. To entrap him between her legs, his cock pulsing inside her. To capture his lips in a passionate kiss, his hands squeezing her soft breasts in a possessive grip.

It's not fair that he can leave her breathless and wanting in bed, writhing against the cool bedsheets, toes curling, back arching... not fair!

She calls out, strained against the heat inside her body but just as determined.]

No! I won't give up! [She sees herself as stronger than this. She can't let him down. Her voice lowers, a gentle plea with uneven breaths.] Please... give me more. I want...

[Her thighs rub together, a damp spot on her panties growing a little bigger. It's like she's stuck in a sauna with her skin turning extra flush, sweaty palms covering her breasts.]

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