Levi's POV
Isabella's voice slid through the line, breathless and tinged with a thrill that sent a shiver down my spine. Even over the phone, I could hear the rush of wind around her, as if her world was spinning in sync with her words.
"I'm taking my bath now, Master. Please wait for me. I don't want to talk to you for just five minutes."
Her words took me back to a memory that had etched itself deep into my mind—the day I first saw her, bursting out of her apartment with the kind of energy that electrifies the air. Her long hair had cascaded down her back, catching the sunlight as she ran, each step carrying a rhythm that was as joyful as it was mesmerizing. She had been like a butterfly then, her white skirt fluttering around her like delicate wings. And now, that same butterfly was fluttering towards me once more, her anticipation echoing the excitement that had filled her on that day.
Was she feeling the same flutter of nerves and eagerness now, knowing that I was waiting for her to call me back?
The memory stirred something warm within me, a sweetness that began to melt away the hardness that had clung to me all day. It was like the comforting heat of the cappuccino she had once bought for me, the steam rising from the cup, soothing and sweet. In that moment, the tension, the weight of my father's words, the pressures of the day, all began to dissolve. All that remained was the anticipation of hearing Isabella's voice again. All that existed was her.
"I'll wait then. Call me when you're done. Alright?"
"Yes, Master," she replied, her voice soft and submissive. I hung up the phone, my heart pounding so hard it felt as if it were trying to break free from my chest. Why was it racing so fast? Why did I feel this need, this craving, to be with her right now?
I found myself staring up at the sky, the stars winking back at me, their distant light a contrast to the heat that burned within. My phone rang again, and I answered it immediately, this time without the video. I wanted her to have the privacy she needed, though I longed to see her, to explore every inch of her with my eyes. I craved her. I missed her.
"That was fast," I said, clearing my throat, trying to summon the deeper, more authoritative British accent that she seemed to respond to and love.
She chuckled, a soft, melodic sound that made my pulse quicken. "I didn't want to keep my Master waiting."
I leaned back against the wall, my eyes still fixed on the stars, but my thoughts entirely consumed by her. Isabella had no idea the effect calling me "Master" had on me. The word alone sent a surge of desire through me, and I could already feel the heat pooling low in my abdomen, my body responding to the thought of her. I wanted her, needed her, in ways that felt almost primal.
I imagined us together—on the balcony of a penthouse, the cool night air brushing against our skin, or perhaps on a terrace, under the open sky. The fantasy was vivid, almost tangible, each scenario bringing with it a fresh wave of longing.
I would fuck her so hard that the birds would hear us in the morning, and at night, even the crickets would know. I would take all of her, every inch.
"Isabella," I asked, my tone softening as I drew in a slow, deliberate breath, "are you willing to meet me next Thursday?”
There wasn't a moment of hesitation before she answered, "Yes, yes, of course."
"For the second practice, I'd like to take up two days of your time. Is that convenient?"
Her laughter rang out, wild and unrestrained, and I could picture her as clearly as if she were right in front of me—rolling on that soft quilt, her body heating with the same dizzying anticipation that was building inside me.
I imagined her face buried in the fabric, her laughter bubbling up uncontrollably, filling the quiet room with her joy. She laughed until she was breathless, until her world spun around her, just as mine was doing now. The thought of seeing me again had clearly set her on fire, just as the thought of her was igniting something deep within me.
"I would do anything you want, Master," Isabella replied, her voice dripping with that same mix of submission and excitement that drove me wild. I exhaled, trying to keep my composure.
"Anything?" I asked, my voice a low growl, the word hanging in the air between us like a challenge.
"Yes," she breathed, the word more a needy sigh than a statement.
"Send me a sexy picture. I want to cum to the image of you." I asked, my cock already jerking to the thought of it. The reasonable thing to do is go in and masturbate but a sick twisted part of me wanted to do it here where I envisioned fucking her. “I need to.”