All I could think of was the way his tongue would feel against my nipple as his hand continued down between my legs…
"You're a very good girl, Maya," he said, his voice raspy.
I nearly came. Just from a little touch of Sloan praise and a flick I didn't even know would feel good.
"Slide your hand along your dick," I said, shifting against the sheets. Wishing he was there, and this was his finger and his hand and?—
"Yes, baby." He made a noise that was sort of a grunt and sort of a purr, and he handled things.
I edged myself closer to climax with only that vision of him over the top of me.
"Squeeze yourself," I said. Then I cleared my throat and did my best to use an effective I-command-you-to-do-it tone. "Move your thumb up the indentation along the edge of the tip while you do it. Imagine it's my tongue there."
I kept onward up Big "O" Mountain, while he took care of his own mountain-climbing excursion.
The vision of Sloan in my mind was pure performance art.
I circled and pressed. He grunted and thrust into his hand.
My mouth went dry, and little stars danced behind my eyes even as the thread of our connection strung tight.
"Come for me," he said, and I didn't even know he was holding my orgasm hostage like that. But my body was waiting for his permission.
There wasn't a choice for me here, since my body took his command, and I finished right there, breathing hard and feeling like I'd just had him there with me. Inside me.
"Mine," he said as I moaned.
Then he made the low rumble of a growl he did when he came, and I could practically see his hot release splashing in streaks across his belly.
He grunted again, and I said, "Yours."
The thing was, I absolutely meant it.
We stayed on the phone breathing heavily, neither of us saying much.
"I think I'm actually tired," I said, finally.
"Maya," he said my name like some kind of plea. "We'll be together soon."
I adored that he said that, but I didn't believe him. I'd seen the schedules. I understood the reality.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
SLOAN
Maya's dressing room was lush. This wasn't a locker room tonight, for damn sure. Not with the buckets of flowers every-fucking-where and the racks of Maya's costumes.
This was where Hans had me wait when her show finished, and Dimefront took over as headliner.
She didn't know I was coming. Fuck, until that afternoon,Ihadn't known I was coming.
But we had an extra twenty-four hours between practice and the next game. Coach told me to get the hell out of town, Elliott handed me a ticket to Seattle, and I didn't ask questions.
That was how I got there, standing in Maya’s dressing room, waiting for my wife.
The second Maya saw me there, it only took her two-point-five seconds to realize I wasn't a mirage. She practically slammed the door behind her and ran straight to me.
Maya, in my arms, thank fuck, finally.
