“Eh.” He shrugs. “Got sick of it. Beards itch.” He lifts a hand to his cheek and slides it slowly down to his chin.
When his little finger drags across his lower lip, I hear myself growl. “Do that again, Canning,” I demand.
He quirks an eyebrow at me. “Why?”
“Because I need to see it.”
He must hear something desperate in my tone, because he complies without any more lip. He lifts his palm to his cheek again and closes his eyes. I watch him take a deep breath, and on the exhale, he slides his hand down his jaw. When his fingertips reach his mouth, he slants his eyelids open just a couple of millimeters. Then he slides two fingertips into his mouth and sucks on them.
“Fuck,” I breathe. I’m jealous of the fingers, the camera and the bed. “Take off your shirt for me.”
For a fractional second I think he’ll protest. We never do this. And we just had the shittiest week ever. But Jamie sits up a little, the camera losing him and showing me the ceiling instead. But then I see his arm sweep past, his T-shirt flying up and away. When the camera tilts again, Jamie’s golden chest is on full display. He must have the tablet propped on his thighs because the camera angle shows his abs as a ramp up to his pecs. Wide-set copper nipples tease me at the edges of the shot. And one perfect hand lays across his bellybutton, the golden hairs glinting in high-def.
“Touch your chest,” I order. I sound like a surly dom in some sleazy video chat. Except it’s Jamie at the other end of the scene. And his fingertips are teasing his happy trail now. He spends a moment exploring the light trail of hair up the center of his belly.
My hips shift on the bed and my cock is hard already. I’ve seen Jamie shirtless a million times. But he’s putting himself on display for me. His hand flattens out on his breastbone. Hestretches across until his fingertips part over his nipple, and then he shivers.
I hear myself grunt with longing. If I were there, my mouth would be all over that. I’d shove his hand out of the way and suck on that pebbled nub. “Other one,” I grind out. “And go slow, Canning.”
First, he tips his head back on the pillows, and his eyes fall closed. Then his hand traces a slow path across his chest until he holds his pec in his palm. His thumb and forefinger circle the nipple and then give it a pinch. “Mmm,” he sighs, and suddenly I have goosebumps everywhere.
“Canning.”
“Yeah?”
“I am so fucking hard right now.”
He smiles without opening his eyes. “How hard is it?”
A bark of laughter escapes me. “Lose the rest of your clothes, babe. I want to see you.”
First he groans and stretches, making me wait. Then his chocolate eyes open again, and he licks his lips. I lose him on camera again and the room rolls under his motions. A few seconds later the camera tips slowly back toward vertical, and I have a view of Jamie’s bent leg, his perfect hip, an oblique taste of his ass in shadow and most of his very bare chest. He must have propped the tablet up on my side of the bed.
His hand is between his legs, but I can only see the curve of his biceps and his muscular forearm. The rest is hidden from view.
“That’s just mean,” I say, and he grins. “If I were there, I’d…”
“What?” he asks in a rough voice. “Tell me exactly what you’d do first.”
“I’d suck on your tongue until you got hard.” Jamie’smouth is his most pronounced erogenous zone. The man can practically come from me chewing on his lips.
“Too late,” he says, dropping his leg to the bed. And there’s my prize. I groan at the sight of Jamie’s erection rising proudly from the thicket of pale, soft hairs at his groin. Even after these eight months, I still feel lucky every time he responds to me.
“God, I want a taste.” My voice is gravel. “Are you leaking for me? Get that drop. Useonefinger.” Don’t I feel like a bossy motherfucker tonight. My gaze is glued to the screen, though. He’s really the one in charge. If that weren’t true, I wouldn’t be gripping myself over my sweatpants now, salivating at the view on the screen.
He does as I ask. He swipes one finger over his cockhead. Then he looks me right in the eye and licks his finger.
“Unngh,” I say, and he sucks on his finger just to torture me. And I fucking love it. “Stroke yourself, now.” I can’t wait any longer. “Use one hand.”
Jamie slides his hand down his chest and takes himself in hand. He gives his cock two good strokes.
“Slower,” I demand. “That’s it,” I encourage when his movements turn languorous. His chest rises and falls with each breath, and his forehead is creased with tension. “Do you want to come, Canning?”
“Yeah,” he breathes. “Been thinking about you a lot today. Waiting for your game to start…” He strokes himself a little faster. And I’m practically vibrating from the news that Jamie misses me. I haven’t messed things up too badly. Or maybe I have, and it’s just that our sexual chemistry isn’t one of those things. We might be awful communicators lately, but turning each other on has never been a problem for us.
“Cup your balls,” I offer. “If I was there, I’d suck on ’em.”He groans, and his eyes grow heavy-lidded. “I’d taste you everywhere. Every fucking place. Lube you up with my tongue.” His rhythm falters just a little. His head falls back further, and he widens his legs, as if opening his body to me.
That’s when looking isn’t enough anymore. My own hand sneaks into my sweatpants, unbidden. I grip my cock and give it a squeeze. Screw it. I rise up on my knees and yank down my sweats. The angle of the tablet on the bed makes my dick appear comically large. It would be funny if I weren’t so horny. I pump myself in earnest.
