“I could come any second, but I won’t. You need to tell me more first.”
I pressed my breasts together and squirmed, heat sliding through my veins.
“What do you want to know?” I asked.
“How wet are you?”
“I’m…”
“Touch yourself and tell me.”
I couldn’t help the flush sweeping me from head to toe. My heart pounded hard. I wiggled my pants down until the elastic was around my thighs, then curled my fingers against my sex.
“How wet are you?” he repeated.
I dipped into my cleft, trailing my finger down one side and up the other, then circling my clit. The light contact blazed across my nerves.
“Very wet,” I breathed. “I wish you could touch me.”
He groaned. “Tell me what you look like.”
I shifted up onto one elbow. “I’m… my shirt is up around my breasts, and my nipples are so hard… and my pants are down around my thighs, so I can’t really spread my legs too wide…”
“Oh, fuck, Liv. Keep going.”
I swallowed hard. Sweat broke out on my forehead as I swept a hand over my belly again. “But I can edge my fingers far enough in to tickle my clit…”
“Do it now.”
I did, unable to prevent a moan when I pressed the pulsing knot. “God, Dean, I’m so turned on…”
“Bring yourself off. Tell me how you do it.”
“I… I like to put two fingers on either side… like that… and keep the heel of my hand against my clit… then push a finger slowly inside…”
“You’re tight, aren’t you?” His voice was raw. “I’m going to slide into you like a glove.”
My breath stopped at the idea of him filling me, stretching me. I squeezed my inner flesh around my finger, wishing it was his big, thick length. My clit throbbed against my hand. The sound of our breathing, heavy and hot, filled my head.
“What do you want, Liv?” he whispered, low and guttural.
“I want…” I arched my body, loving the taut anticipation, the promise of release. I pushed my finger farther into my channel and moaned. “I want to come.”
“Tell me what else you want.”
“Oh…” I pushed my hips up farther and pressed my hand against my clit. My blood streamed like melted honey through my veins. Fantasies flooded my mind—everything I’d imagined and dreamed about since meeting him.
“I want you to touch me,” I gasped, working my hand faster between my legs. “I want you to lick my breasts and rub my clit. I want to watch you stroke yourself. I want to feel you, hard and throbbing, and I want you to thrust deep inside me and make me come all over your cock… oh!”
An explosion of shudders rained through me at the same instant Dean’s rough grunt echoed in my head. I bit my lip to prevent myself from crying out, even as the vibrations peaked with a hard surge.
Panting, I fell backward onto the pillows, running a hand over my half-naked body. “I’m… wow.”
His chuckle rumbled in my ear. “You are wow, indeed.”
I sucked in a breath and closed my eyes. “Did you come hard?”
“Christ, Liv. Fucking rocket.”
I shuddered as the picture flashed before me—him all sweaty and breathing hard, still sliding his fist loosely over his damp shaft, trails of semen pooling on his stomach.
“One day will you do that while I watch?” I asked.
“The second you ask, I’ll have my cock in hand.”
“The second I ask?”
“The nanosecond you ask. In fact, you don’t even need to ask. Just bat your eyelashes at me, and I’ll take my prick out.”
I giggled. “Better make sure we’re not in public, then.”
“I’ll make sure.”
We both fell silent as our breathing finally slowed. I rolled onto my side, pushing my hair away from my face, the phone still close to my ear.
“Hey,” I whispered. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Waiting for me.”
“Waiting has never been so hot.” He paused. “Thanks for trusting me.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be waiting.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
November 6
ow was it?” Dean looks at me from over the top of the sports magazine he’s reading.
I drop my travel bag on the floor and shrug out of my coat. “Fine. Aunt Stella says hello. She sent you a pound cake.”
I pull the brick-hard cake from my bag and put it on the counter, then go into the bedroom to shower and change. My few days with Stella and Henry provided no sudden insights into how to save my relationship with Dean, but the brief separation from him did make it a little easier to breathe.
I helped Stella around the house and in the garden, ate at the town’s diner, went to the farmer’s market and a couple of garage sales. The weather was unseasonably mild, so I took a few long walks and drove into the countryside. I even baked an apple pie, which actually turned out pretty good.
It was a simple few days, and I’m glad I went—even if the big, ugly questions loomed up again the moment I stepped into the apartment. Even if Dean and I still don’t know how to tackle them.
He gets up from the sofa and looks at his watch. “I’m meeting someone for lunch, then I have lectures, office hours, and a late seminar.”