“We have…” Chance pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “Fifty-four minutes until we need to be to your parents’ place. Enough time to recreate the rest of the date, I think?” His brows raise in question.
My cheeks betray me, flushing again, leaving my want for him on full display.
“Our date ended after the picnic.” My attempt to shut him down probably won’t work—neither of us forgets what happened next—but I had to try. Just to be able to tell the little voice in my head I did, I really did try.
“Yeah?” His smooth voice drops to a husky tone that undoes something inside me. “’Cause I remember how you didn’t want to sleep with me on our firstofficialdate,” he mocks the word, but politely doesn’t point out how we’d already slept together by then. “I remember you sprinting away from the park in your hot little heels so you didn’t break down and come home with me.”
Still seated in his lap, my head tips forward, hair covering my burning cheeks and flaming eyes, hiding me from his view. His hands trail down my sides and rest on the swell of my hips, gripping me there.
“And Idefinitelyremember the Skype call I got a half an hour later. Were you having second thoughts about leaving early, Di?”
I don’t dignify his teasing with a response.
He’s never failed to turn me on, and his ego doesn’t need more from me on that front. His hands start moving again, over my too-full hips, down my thick thighs, until his fingers trace the bare skin below the hem of my skirt as he murmurs his next words into the shell of my ear.
“Wished you were in bed with me, rather than six feet away from your roommate as you came for me?”
I stand up rapidly, pushing off the ground, away from the invasive memories, his seductive tenor, the addiction of his touch. Turning, I cross my arms in front of my chest and stare down at him, eyes narrowed on his amused expression.
“What are you saying? You want me to FaceTime you from the bedroom?”
It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard, but fuck if I’m gonna be the one to admit that I want him to talk me through an orgasm right now, the same way he did that night.
Even if I stay strong in regard to being…physical with him right now, I wouldn’t be breaking any pacts with myself if I let him watch me, right? Let his husky words guide me to exactly where I want to be, while torturing him in the process, making sure he knows exactly what he’s missing. Sounds like a two-for-one, if you ask me. I hold a quick mental vote, and whatd’ya know, I win! Definitely not breaking any rules. Mental fist pump at that, but don’t let it show.
He stands, towering over me, eyes as intense as I’ve seen them as he closes the scant inches between us, pressing in until his torso is flush with my chest.
“No, Di. I want to pretend. I want to sit in bed, across from you, and watch you get yourself off, while you watch me watching you.”
A tug in my lower abdomen and a sudden rush of warmth between my legs tells me I like that idea, too.
“Go pick out a toy and meet me in bed,” he orders, and I comply.
It’s been weeks. I need to befilled. So I select one of my all-time favorites from my small collection, aptly named Lo (as it’s the only toy I’ve ever found that can get you off damn near a dozen times in one night, ayy-oh!).
By the time I get back from the small walk-in closet, he’s standing in our room with the blackout curtains drawn so it’s actually pretty dark in here. Our door is closed, though that’s out of habit more than necessity at the moment.
He motions for me to sit on the bed, his white undershirt pulling at the muscle in his arm as he gestures.
I crawl into the bed, making myself comfortable in my usual spot, while he sits cross-legged at the opposite end, watching with a hunger in his eyes I haven't seen in far too long.
God, he’s really convincing.
“This time, your roommate isn’t home.” His voice is harsh, almost guttural. “You know what that means, don’t you, Di?”
I appreciate how he’s building this fantasy out for us both, but the reminder that there’s no one else home right now is welcome. This is a rare fucking treat.
I suck my lower lip in between my teeth and gnaw on it, nodding at him with eyes glazing over, letting myself get into the fantasy. My back arches, arms thrown over my head, and I stretch my entire body out wantonly, eyes locked on his.
His hand comes down to adjust his pants, and I smile a little evilly at him. He ignores me and gives me my first instructions.
“It means you’re going to be as loud as you fucking want. For the next half an hour, you don’t hold anything back. When it feels good, you make sure I know. And when you’re coming? I want to fucking feel it from all the way across town. You’re going to fucking scream for me, Di.”
My eyes flutter shut at the command, the promise in his gruff words. The sudden rush of warmth between my legs takes me by surprise. It’s been so long since I’ve gottenthiswet from just a line from him. Since he treated me like this, like something he cherishes and needs in equal measure; since he’s looked at me like I was the sexiest thing to grace his presence.
And the way he orders me around in the bedroom? Fuck, if he keeps that up, I know I won’t be able to keep him at arm’s length.
Squeezing my thighs together to dampen the ache, I turn my attention to him, fully, and nod to show him I understand.
