Fuck, she wasn’t going to last much longer. It had been days since she’d had an orgasm, and the need, coupled with Reese’s strained voice had already pushed her close to the edge.
Sydney managed to keep her camera tilted at the right angle while still holding it, trying to take in as much of Reese as she could.
And like Reese knew what she wanted, what Sydney’s own eyes were begging for, Reese switched the view so the camera rested atop the nightstand. Sydney could see Reese’s profile, her neck arching against her pillow, hands invisible beneath her shorts.
But Sydney followed the rapid movement, and Reese bent one leg up, her foot flexing into the bed.
She let out a guttural sound when Reese’s free hand moved upward and she started massaging her own breast, the nipple puckering visibly beneath her thin T-shirt.
Sydney’s hips rocked against her fingers, and she took Reese in hungrily as Reese played with her nipple, Sydney thinking about how good it would feel in her mouth. The way it pillowed into a hard bud that Sydney loved to flick with her tongue, knowing exactly the little pleas it drew from Reese.
And then Sydney came. Hard.
“Fuck, baby, fuck,” she said as she continued working into herself, imagining that Reese was there with her. “You feel so good,” she groaned into the empty room, needing to draw every last ounce of pleasure from her own body, wanting Reese to know the power she held over Sydney.
“Sydney,” Reese cried, the name on her lips as her whole body went rigid, fingertips digging into her own chest.
Sydney stared, transfixed, as she came down from her own orgasm, deep breaths punctuating the silence. Reese’s body finally went limp, and it sent a few more pulses of desire to her own clit, the way Reese looked so utterly spent and deliciously debauched.
Sydney let out a long, drawn-out sigh as she moved her camera to a similar view that Reese saw, placed on the table next to her bed. “That was…”
“Amazing,” Reese said breathlessly before she rolled on her side to face the camera. She rested a hand underneath her cheek and stared at Sydney, eyes mapping everything.
“You’reamazing,” Sydney corrected, waiting for her erratic heartbeat to come back down to normal.
“I’ve never done that before.” The admission was quiet, Reese’s stare softening as pink flushed her already heated cheeks.
“I guess we’ll just have to chalk this up to another thing you’re incredibly talented at. Did you like it?”
Reese nodded. “Yes, I liked it a lot. Not as good as having you here, but I needed this. I didn’t realize how much until just now.”
Sydney could feel her eyes growing heavy, sleep threatening to overtake her now that she was utterly spent. “I needed it, too, baby.”
And it wasn’t just the sex, even if that had been mind-blowing. She’d wanted to feel close to Reese, to feel connected with her in a way that she couldn’t quite explain.
“Are you going to bed?” Reese asked, her own voice sounding sleep-soaked and utterly satisfied.
Sydney burrowed against her pillow and jutted her hand to the side, managing to capture enough of the comforter to pull it on top of herself. “Mhmm. Are you going to put me to bed?” Sydney teased sleepily.
The exhaustion hit her then. From the last almost week of preparations and the first day of live commentating.From how much she missed Reese, the energy it took to focus on anything else.
“Yeah, baby, I am.” Sydney’s eyes were closed, but she could hear Reese rustling around, finding her own comfort in the bed Sydney wished they could share tonight.
“I’m glad this is how my day is ending. You’re such an amazing girlfriend,” Sydney said, snuggling into a ball under the covers.
Before she drifted off to sleep, she managed to open her eyes one last time to see Reese’s soft gaze watching her.
Twenty
Reese was watching Sydney,who walked around the room they shared at The Stone’s Throw, picking up errant pieces of clean laundry that at some point had been considered and rejected. Guess today was their lucky day.
Truly, the distraction was a welcome one for Reese, who was more than happy to avoid thinking about her own day.
“It was easy when I was a player,” Sydney said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “All I needed were match outfits and loungewear. Now, who knows who the executives may want me to have dinner with? And I can’t schlep around when not working, since I’m no longer anathlete. And you know I hate?—”
“Checking a bag.” Reese leaned back against the headboard, watching the melee play out. “And you’ll always be an athlete. You’re just… non-practicing right now,” she teased.
Sydney threw another shirt in her carry-on suitcase. “At least I don’t have to fly in early this time.”
