More silence on her end— except for a faint inhale, like she was trying not to cry again.
“I see you,” he said, voice low and rough with truth. “All of you. Not just the parts I jerk off to in the shower, thinking about how you sound when you come. I see the girl who held it together when her whole world cracked.”
That earned him a soft, watery laugh.
“I’ll let you sleep,” he said, not meaning it but knowing she probably needed it. “But we’re not done, Ali. Not even close.”
He waited for her to say something.
Anything.
There was a long pause.
He didn’t push her. Just let the silence stretch, listening to the quiet sound of her breath on the other end.
Then, her voice— low, sultry, laced with something darker than teasing— came through the line.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about it either,” she said. “You. The way you felt. The way you filled me…”
Dylan’s jaw flexed. He sat up straighter against the headboard.
“I came,” she whispered. “Just now. Fingers soaked. Thinking about you slamming into me— how hard you fucked me against that wall like you’d never let me go again.”
His hand fisted the sheets.
Ali exhaled, breathy and close to the phone. “I said your name. Loud.”
Dylan sucked in a sharp breath, his head tipping back like she’d physically touched him.
“And now,” she added softly, voice barely audible, “I think I can finally sleep.”
A beat of silence. Then: “Goodnight Dylan.” The whisper so soft he might’ve imagined it.
And she hung up.
Dylan stared at the screen, jaw tight, dick hard again, heart fucking racing.
He let out a long groan and dropped his head into his hands.
“Jesus Christ, Ali.”
Alison Katherine Presley was going to be the death of him.
Gorgeous
Ali
The Netflix homepage idled in the background, the third time it had askedAre you still watching?ignored as white noise. Ali was curled up in bed, fuzzy socks on her feet, hair piled on top of her head, and her Kindle half-forgotten beside her.
She hadn’t slept much. Not with the way Dylan’s voice kept replaying in her head. That last, sinful whisper. The way her own name had fallen from his mouth like a benediction.
The front door creaked open, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone kicking it shut with their foot.
“It’s just me and your cure for all things emotionally unhinged and hungover,” Ashley called.
Before Ali could react, her bedroom door swung open and Ashley flopped dramatically onto the bed, two Zaxby’s bags in hand. The familiar scent of chicken tenders and crinkle fries filled the air like a balm.
Ali blinked. “You brought me Zaxby’s?”
