"He slicked two fingers in his mouth and massaged her asshole gently," I had written.

My fingers flew across the keyboard, crafting a vivid scene for my latest erotica novel 'The Crimson Knot'. I was in my apartment, the setting sun casting a warm glow across the room. My mind was in the vault with Remmy, his deep, velvet voice whispering naughty nothings that tinged my skin. The memory of his presence was so strong, like he was sitting beside me, watching the words come to life on the screen. I couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen through me and knew my secret desires, which I poured into my writing.

In my story, the protagonist was on the edge of ecstasy, her body begging for more. I had her panting, her muscles quivering with need. I knew exactly what to write next. I took a deep breath and started typing, the words flowing out of me like molten lava.

My heart raced as I wrote, recalling how he'd looked at me in the vault. His eyes had been dark and intense, contrasting his sleek, professional demeanor when he first approached my teller window. His muscular frame filled the space, and how he'd leaned in, whispering in the deep baritone, made me wet with anticipation. The air crackled with something dangerous, making me want to drop to my knees and obey his command.

But I resisted. I had played it cool, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten to me. That was the thrill of the chase, wasn't it? Keeping them guessing, keeping them hungry for more. I knew it would have been over before it even began if I'd given in too quickly. And I felt that Remmy Thornton was the kind of man who liked a challenge. So, I kept him at bay with my wit and charm... I think.

I saved the document and leaned back in my chair, my breath coming in shallow pants. The encounter left me feeling restless and edgy. I couldn't deny that I was intrigued by the man. The way he'd taken charge and the confidence in his touch was all so... intoxicating.

I picked up the business card from my desk, thumbing over the embossed letters. What would it be like to be with someone who could read me so easily, push all the right buttons, and make me undone?

The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt my panties grow damp. I knew I had to be careful. He was a client, after all, and I didn't need to mix business with pleasure. But the way he'd called himself 'Daddy' in that smoky whisper ignited a spark in me, something I hadn't felt in a long time. It was a game to him.

As I stared at the card, my mind racing with all the possibilities, I couldn't help but feel some excitement. This was the kind of material that could make my book a bestseller. And maybe, just maybe, it was the kind of experience that could change my life or possibly open that crimson door I've been avoiding in my dreams.

I picked up my phone, the weight of his number heavy in my hand. The screen glowed with the promise of something thrilling and unknown. I took a deep breath and dialed, my heart pounding.

The phone rang once or twice, and nerves took over. I was about to hang up. Then, a smooth, seductive voice answered. "Hello, Victory," he said, his voice sending a shiver down my spine. I've been waiting for your call."

"Hi," I said, trying to sound casual and ignore how my voice trembled. "I... I just wanted to talk."

"Talk?" he repeated, a hint of amusement in his tone. "good, let's talk."

"I've got a scene in mind and want to run it by you."

There was a beat of silence before he spoke, his voice low and thick with something dark. "Go ahead," he said, his tone daring me to go further. I opened the chapter again, realizing that I was ready to burn.

"Her ass is begging for it," I began, my voice a little shakier than I intended. "What should he do next?"

"Tell me," he said, the challenge in his voice unmistakable. "What do you want him to do?"

I felt excitement, the power of the story in my hands. "He should... He should take his dick and..." I paused, my imagination running wild. "He should rub it against her tight little asshole," I whispered, my cheeks flushing with heat.

A low growl was on the other end of the line; Got 'em. "And then?" he prompted his voice, a siren's call that had me spiraling deeper into the abyss of desire.

"And then he should push inside," I said, the words slipping out like a confession. "Slowly, gently, until she's begging for more."

Remmy chuckled, the sound sending shivers down my spine. "You're trying to fuck my head, aren't you?" he said, his voice like velvet.

I bit my bottom lip, my heart racing. "Maybe," I admitted, a hint of defiance in my tone. "But what if I'm not?"

There was a pause, and then he spoke, his words a promise that had me trembling. "If you're not, then I might just have to show you what it feels like to have your mind fucked then... in real life."

The phone hung up; the silence was electric. I knew he was probably waiting for me to dial him back, for me to give in to the desire building between us. He mind fucks people every day, poke and prod at their psyche; it's his job.

But I'm not like them. I play games with words and dance around emotions like a poet with a vendetta. This psychologist, Dr. Remmy Thornton, thinks he can toy with me. I felt the corners of my mouth twitch into a knowing smile as I stared at the sleek black card on my desk. "Dr. Remmy Thornton," it read in shiny silver letters.

I picked it up and ran my thumb over the embossed letters. They were smooth, like his whispers still echoing in my mind. He had no idea what he was getting into, I thought to myself. My thoughts raced with the excitement of plot twists and the thrill of the chase.

I took a deep breath, inhaling the faint scent of leather and money that clung to the card. It symbolized his world, one I was about to step into. But not as a pawn; I'd be the wildcard that turns the tables. I slipped it into my MCM, feeling its presence like a secret weapon against the mundane.

The next day at work. I glanced around the bustling bank, my heart racing like a caffeinated rabbit. The customers were a blur of faces and transactions, but all I could think about was.. Remmy. The anticipation was a delicious cocktail of fear and excitement; my fingers itched to feel the weight of his handshake again.

I had to bide my time. So, I tucked the card away, my eyes lingering on the number for a moment before I turned back to the line of people waiting for my help. With every smile and every transaction, I felt a little more in control.. who the fuck am I kidding? This man is living rent-free in my mind. ..Am I in control?

The clock ticked away, each second bringing me closer to the moment I saw him again. I'd ensure he knew our dance was beginning and I intended to lead.

That evening, as I looked around my apartment, my situation hit me like a ton of bricks. I was an aspiring author with a dead-end job. I didn't have much to lose. I chuckled.

With a deep breath, I leaned back in my chair, my heart racing. "I need to see how good he is," I smirked. Almost 24 hours since our call ended. Which one of us would break first?

The ball was in his court, and I was eager to see what he would do next. The story didn't have to remain on the pages of my book; it could unfold before my eyes. I was the protagonist, ready to explore the darkest corners of my desires.

A few moments later, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. The screen lit up with the name 'Daddy,' I couldn't help but throw my head back and silently laugh. He broke first, and it was deliciously thrilling. I answered, my voice steady despite the anticipation. "Hello?"

"Victory," Remmy's voice was like a caress, sending shivers down my spine. I have something for you. You ready?"

Always," I replied, my voice a purr.

"Good," he said, and I could almost feel his smirk through the phone. "Because this is a good one." I clicked the chapter open, listening intently.

He described the encounter in explicit detail, his words painting a picture so vivid that I could almost feel the man's hands on my body. He talked about the way the guy in the story should tap the girl's tight hole with the head of his dick, teasing her until she was begging for more. Then, with a suddenness that left me gasping, he instructed me to have him spread her wide and give her asshole a deep, passionate kiss. The thought was so depraved, so utterly filthy, that I felt my pussy clench with need.

"And while he's doing that," Remmy continued, his voice dropping to a murmur that had me leaning closer to the phone, "he should spit on it, make it wet and sloppy, and then slurp it like it's the sweetest candy he's ever tasted. And all the while, he's gently tugging on her clit, keeping her right on the edge."

I couldn't believe the soft moans that escaped my mouth as he described the scene to me. As I listened to his guidance, my hand slipped between my legs, my fingers mimicking the actions he described. The pleasure was intense, making my toes curl and my breath hitch in my throat.

When he was done, the line had a long pause. "Well, do you like it?" he asked. I swear I heard steady, slick noises in his background. I smirked.

"Oh, I do," I said, breathing a breathy whisper. "It's...sexy as fuck." "Did you get hard... Remmy?" I asked softly.

There was a beat of silence before he replied, his voice a gruff rumble. "Very," he said, and I could almost feel the heat of his arousal through the phone. "I want to hear you come, Victory," he said, his words a command that sent a jolt of excitement through me. "Tell me how it feels."

I slid my fingers inside my wetness, my eyes closed as I pictured Remmy's face, his dark eyes watching me with hunger. "It feels... amazing," I gasped, my voice barely above a whisper. "My body is on fire."

"Good," he murmured, his need clear in every syllable. "Now, what do you want me to do to you?"

I bit my lip, the words spilling out before I could think better. "I want you to fuck me until I can't think straight," I said, my voice shaking. "I want you to moan and tell me how wet my pussy is, then fill me up."

There was a pause and then a low, dangerous chuckle. "You're playing a dangerous game, little girl," he said, the warning in his tone sending a thrill through me. "But if that's what you want, you'll get it."

The call ended.

Remmy

Fuck!

The echo of Victory's moans still resonated in my mind, making my dick throb with urgency. I was standing at the foot of my bed now, my foot propped up on the bench, my hand a blur as I stroked myself with an intensity that matched the hunger in her voice. The scene we'd painted with our words had brought me to the brink, and I knew I couldn't hold out much longer.

Her voice had been like a symphony of desire, a sweet symphony that had me aching with need. I could almost feel her tightness around me, her body arching as I whispered dirty words into her ear. The thought of her alone in her apartment, her hand buried between her legs, was too much. I had to come, had to release the pressure building in my balls.

I gripped my dick harder, the veins standing out against my skin as I pumped it faster and faster. The sound of my breathing filled the room, each inhale and exhale punctuated by the slap of my hand against my thigh. The image of her, her eyes closed in ecstasy, her body trembling with need, was like a drug, a siren's call that I couldn't resist.

With a roar, I erupted, ropes of thick cum shooting out and landing on the marble floor. My body convulsed with pleasure, "Shit!" the orgasm ripping through me like a tornado. For a moment, I was lost in the storm of sensation, my mind a whirlwind of lust and desire. And then, as the waves of pleasure began to recede, reality set in.

Victory had to be mine.

I knew it the moment she'd stepped into the vault with me, her bronze skin glowing under the fluorescent lights, her doe eyes filled with a challenge that only made me want her more. I felt she would be a handful, but I was more than up for the task. After all, I was Remmy Thornton, the man who could make even the most stoic of hearts race.

fuck