“Ah.” His body shakes again as he sits forward. I’ve never seen a man like this. He holds his phone with one hand, and I can tell he’s undoing his pants with this other. “Oh, God,” he says. “Play with your nipples for me.”
I trail my hands over my chest, circling the tops of my breasts and under them, but not giving him what he wants yet. It’s delicious torture for both of us.
“Please, Kendall.” His hand disappears below the frame.
I give him an evil grin, then find my nipples and roll them between my fingers. A shock of pleasure jolts me, like a direct line to my clit, and I squirm a little.
“I want to put my hands on you so bad.” He gulps. “I feel like I’m starving.” His arms moves, and I know he’s stroking himself. The thought creates a pool of desire low in my stomach. “Will you touch yourself now?”
“Since you asked nicely.” I drag one hand down and pull my underwear to one side. I toy with myself while he watches. He’s panting. His arm moves a little faster.
“I want to see all of you.”
I stand up and get rid of my panties. When I sit down again, I spread my thighs fully for him to see, then continue stroking my clit. When I bury a finger in myself, his strangled, agonized moan reverberates on the screen. I keep moving, stroking in tandem with the finger still inside me, until I start to crest.
“Fuck, Kendall. Fuck.” His face glistens and his jaw is clenched. “I’m going to come. I can’t help it.”
“Then I might have to make you wait even longer next time.” My breaths come faster.
“I don’t care. I don’t fucking care.”
I break up and over, starlight bursting in my head, as I moan and chant his name. He throws his head back and thetendons in his throat stand out. His mouth is open in a wide, silent O. It’s maybe the sexiest moment of my life, and we haven’t even touched.
We stare at each other after. His hair is mussed.
“Hold that thought,” he says. “I’m going to go clean up.” He sits his phone down and it faces his ceiling. I pull my clothes back on and carry my own phone to my bedroom.
My soft comforter welcomes me, its weight a warm reassurance over my body. The cool sheets, with their high thread count, feel like liquid against my skin. These comforts might seem like unnecessary indulgences to some, but after spending my childhood in a state of anxiety and distress, I allow myself lots of simple luxuries. My breathing steadies.
Grant’s cheeks dimple when he picks up his phone again. “Well. That was . . . something.”
I stretch out on my bed. “Yeah. It was.”
“I liked hearing you chanting my name, there at end.” A flush covers his face. “I almost felt like it was right in my ear.”
“That does something for you, huh?”
He shudders. “God, you have no idea.”
It would help if everything he says wasn’t so unaccountably sexy.
“I really want to spend time with you soon,” he says. “What are your plans for this weekend?”
“My brother plays wheelchair basketball in Lexington and I’m headed there Saturday to watch him. Nothing other than that. What about you?”
He ticks a few items off on his fingers. “Work, work, and work.” He scratches the back of his neck. “That’s kind of a far drive for Blaine, isn’t it? To play basketball?”
I shrug. “An hour and a half, give or take. It’s worth it because he loves it so much.” I smile. “When we were kids, he set up a little hoop in his bedroom that he’d made of old Hot Wheels tracks.”
“Is this where you make a dig about the fancy basketball hoop I had in my driveway?”
“Nah. I won’t begrudge you that. Besides, you had to develop that athleticism so you could lead our football team to victory, right?”
He shifts back. I hear the covers rustle as he climbs under them. I have a sudden vision of cuddling up to him in his bed, letting him hold me as we fall asleep.
“I remember seeing you at games.” His voice softens. “You and your friends, in the stands. I always had these really strong feelings when you were around, like when I would see you in the crowd. Maybe I was too stupid to recognize it as attraction.”
My teeth dig into my bottom lip. “I always thought you were hot. Me and many other girls, I bet. It was fun to watch you play even when I hated you. Come to think of it, I liked watching you in class, too. I remember thinking in AP English, when we were reading each other’s essays, that I liked how your brain works. We could have been friends, if you had been nice to me.”
