“I’m going to get on my knees and I’m going to bury my face between your legs and I won’t stop licking you until you’ve come at least three times on my tongue.”
His praise and his promises get me all worked up. I’m coiled so tight, I feel like I might break.
I need relief now.
“I can’t go slow anymore,” I hear myself say in desperation, my hand picking up speed. “I want…I want…” I fail to complete a coherent sentence. I dissolve into nothing but quiet, desperate panting and whining.
“Don’t hold back,” Lincoln says to me as he jerks himself faster, the repeated slapping sounds of his fist meeting his pelvis filling the air. “I can’t hold back any longer. Don’t hold back."
I feel a delicious tension from my hair follicles all the way down to my toenails. The muscles of my thighs pull tight like elastic bands.
I turn my face into his pillow and his scent fills all my senses. I gasp his name. “Lincoln…”
“Jules…” he echoes back desperately.
And when I hear him say my name, I just snap.
A detonation goes off inside my spine. Fireworks explode in my field of vision. I bite back the scream clawing its way up my throat.
Time stops.
I go slack against the mattress as a post-orgasmic calmness spreads through my limbs. When my eyes finally come back into focus, I look down at my screen and find Lincoln looking at me.
His skin is flushed. A layer of sweat has settled on his brow, matting his hair to his forehead. There’s a huge mess on his lower abdomen.
Yet still, a lazy contented smile spreads across his face. He runs a hand through his messy hair. “Damn. That was…beautiful.”
I smile, too. “Yeah. Beautiful.”
So is the man staring at me from my telephone screen.
He’s nothing like the guarded, uptight asshole I’d determinedly built a fortress against just a few weeks ago. This version of Lincoln is free, generous, open. This is a version of him I could like. A version I already do like, although I’m not too sure I can admit it to myself.
We both work to regain a normal breathing pattern. Then eventually, Lincoln gingerly rolls out of bed and pads into the bathroom to clean up. I do the same, ambling into the ensuite and wiping up with a warm, damp rag.
I climb back beneath the sheets, pulling them up to my chin. I return the extra pillow to the empty space beside me. The space where my husband should be laying tonight. Lincoln rolls onto his side, positioning his extra pillow next to his head and propping the phone up against it.
When I angle my own phone just right, he and I are at eye-level. It’s almost like he’s in bed here with me. Almost.
For a moment, we just lie here and smile at each other.
Then my eyes begin to grow heavy and my lids flutter.
“Jules…” he says just as I begin to lose the battle against my tiredness.
“Yeah…?” I murmur.
“I want you to understand that I don’t regret one minute that I’ve ever spent with you. In fact, each time we’re apart, I find myself wanting more time with you.”
I smile against my pillow. “Clingy, clingy, clingy…” I mumble, trying to act nonchalant, even as my heart fills to the point of spilling over.
He chuckles. “You could say so.”
I should tell him that I feel the exact same way. I really should tell him. But my pride won’t let me cross that line.
“Good night, my beautiful wife…” I hear him whisper as my eyes finally shut and sleep pulls me under.
36
