There’s something about the raw scratch of his voice, the explicit dream of something I want too that sends me over the edge. It’s a freefall, the pleasure spreading to every inch of my body as I chase it, holding on to it for as long as I can.
When I finally return to earth with heavy breathing and heavy limbs, I open an eye to find Brody flat on his back on his bed. His arm is draped over his face. There’s cum covering his hand, and his grip slowly slackens as he blows out a long exhale.
“How is it possible that you killed me through the phone?” He props himself up on an elbow, wincing. “You’re not even here and I’m suffering.”
“Doesn’t look like suffering.” I smile and draw my fingers out of myself. My legs close. I turn onto my side, stretching out on the couch. “That wasgood.”
“I’m going to be asleep in ten minutes. It would be less than five if I didn’t have to shower.” Brody blinks, rubbing his eyes with his clean hand. “If this is the kind of fun everyone else is having, I can see why they’re in such good moods all the time.”
“You know what they say. Orgasms make the world go round.”
“Think you might be on to something, Hannah.” He stretches his arm above his head. “Let me shower and I’ll call you back in a few?”
“You’re tired. You should get some sleep,” I say. “I don’t want to be the reason why you’re cranky tomorrow.”
“Highly doubt that’s possible.” With a long yawn, Brody swings his legs over the side of the bed. “Five minutes.”
“Make it ten so I can rinse off too.”
We hang up, both rinsing off before he calls me back like he said he would. I climb into bed and so does he. When he pulls out a pair of glasses, I almost drop my phone on my face.
“What thefuck, Brody? You wear glasses? You can’t have all four things,” I say.
“What are the four things?” he asks, pushing them up his nose.
“Glasses. Backward hats. Gray sweatpants. Tattoos. It’s not fair.”
“I don’t wear glasses. I use them at night when my eyes are tired and I’m doing the crossword puzzle. The print is too small.”
“Oh my god.” I pull a pillow over my face and scream into it. “You’re not serious.”
“When have you ever seen me joke about something, Hannah?”
“Can I tell you something stupid?”
“Nothing you could ever say would be stupid.”
“I like you. I think you’re so fun. And, yeah, the mutual orgasms are great, but this?” I gesture between us, that same happiness from earlier when I first saw his text message making itself known. “This is even better.”
“You know I don’t like talking to people.” A long pause. A slow blink behind his thick-framed glasses, and Brody adds, “But I like talking to you.”
We stay up another hour on our video call. His eyes get heavy, and so do mine. When he starts to fall asleep, glasses slipping down his nose and phone falling out of his grip, I force him to hang up, knowing I could’ve talked to him until the sun came up and never gotten bored.
TWENTY-SEVEN
BRODY
“Again,”I yell to the guys. With their hands on their thighs, they hang their heads. Someone drops a stick. Another person groans. When no one moves, I blow the whistle Hannah got me for Christmas. “Now.”
“Who pissed in Coach’s cereal this morning?” Maverick groans. “He woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
“I can hear you, Miller, and I’m adding three extra laps because of your commentary.”
“I should’ve taken paternity leave. Changing twenty diapers a day is more enjoyable than the hell you’re putting us through,” my captain grumbles.
Grant gags. Ethan wails, hanging half his body over the boards by the bench. Even Hudson, the guy who usually works the hardest without any complaints, is panting, and I grin.
I’m not pissed off at all.
