Chapter 4 #2
Cursive&Caffeine: I've never been so turned on by words. And I read romance novels religiously. You made me feel things I forgot I could feel.
Wild@Heart: I have to confess I think about it all the time, too.
My heart is pounding now. I shift in bed, the sheets suddenly too warm.
Cursive&Caffeine: My son is at his dad's tonight for basketball. He won't be back until late. I have the house to myself, and I've been thinking about you all day.
Cursive&Caffeine: What if we stopped typing and actually talked?
I stare at the message, blinking hard.
Wild@Heart: You want to call me?
Cursive&Caffeine: I want to hear you. I want to know what you sound like when you say the things you type.
My thumb hovers for maybe half a second.
Wild@Heart: I'm calling you.
Mountain Mates has a voice feature, so two people can talk without any fear of revealing a phone number. I tap the button and take a deep breath to calm down, my heart in my throat.
It rings once. Then twice. Then on the third…
"Hi." Her voice is warm, slightly breathless, with a nervous laugh on the edge of it. And it guts me. It absolutely guts me. It's better than anything I imagined…a little low, a little raspy.
"Hi, trouble."
She laughs. And the sound of it pours through the phone and settles in my groin.
"Oh god," she says. "Your voice. That's not fair."
"What's not fair about it?"
"It's…" She pauses. "It's exactly what I was afraid of. Deep and smooth. I’m a goner.”
"Same, baby…same," I say, grinning so wide my face hurts.
We talk for a few minutes—nervous, giddy, and testing the new terrain of each other's voices. She laughs more than she talks at first, and every time she does I feel it everywhere.
Then the conversation slows.
"That night," she murmurs. "What you described. What you'd do…you left me in ruins, you know that?"
I close my eyes. My voice drops even lower. "I didn't want to stop. But I didn’t want to rush things."
"I don’t want you to stop…tonight.”
And that's it. That's the match hitting the gasoline.
"Where are you right now?" I ask, my voice already rougher than it was five seconds ago.
"In bed."
"What are you wearing?"
She laughs breathily. "Nothing exciting. A T-shirt and panties."
"That's where you're wrong." I shift against the pillows, letting the heat throb in my groin. "Take the shirt off for me."
There’s a pause and the rustle of fabric. "Done."
"Good girl."
The sound she makes—this tiny, sharp inhale—sends a bolt of electricity straight through me. "Now lie back. I want you to close your eyes and just listen to me."
"Okay." Her voice is a whisper now.
"I want you to run your fingers over yourself, from your neck downward. Feel your skin. Feel how warm you are." I let out a breath. "Are you doing it?"
"Yes."
"Now slide it up. Slowly. Over your ribs. Feel them rise and fall with your breathing. Don't rush."
Her breathing comes through the phone in uneven waves, and I'm so hard (painfully, desperately hard) listening to her follow my instructions.
"Higher," I murmur. "Over the curve of your breast. Cup it for me. Pretend it's my hand."
"God…" The word comes out strangled, followed by a shaky exhale.
"How does it feel?"
"So good. I'm…I'm already on edge."
"That's because you've been thinking about this. About me." I press my palm against myself through my boxers since the pressure is becoming unbearable. "You know what I'd do if I were there?"
"Tell me," she says, her voice a soft rasp.
"I'd take your nipple between my lips and curl my tongue around it. I’d suck softly at first, your body arching into me. Then I’d go harder. Until you were grabbing my hair and pulling me closer."
The moan she lets out is long and raw, and it's the most erotic thing I've ever heard. I shove my boxers down and wrap my hand around my dick, already leaking.
"Tell me what you want me to do," I manage, my voice ragged.
"I want your mouth everywhere. I want you to kiss down my stomach and—" She gasps, and I know she's touching herself. "I want you between my thighs."
"Fuck." I grip my cock harder, stroking slowly, dragging it out even though every nerve in my body is screaming for more. "If I were between your thighs, I wouldn't come up for air. I'd taste every inch of your sweet pussy…slow, then fast, then slow again until you were begging."
"I'm already begging," she whispers, and I can hear the motion—the rhythm of her hand, the catch in her breathing that tells me she's close.
"Then come for me. I want to hear exactly what I do to you."
She moans, and it's broken and beautiful and it nearly sends me over the edge.
"I'm so close," she whimpers. "Are you—"
"I'm right there with you. I've been stroking myself since the second I heard your voice, and I'm so goddamn hard it hurts."
"Oh fuck, that's hot. The thought of you—your hand on your cock…"
"Come, baby," I tell her, my own voice cracking. "Do it for me."
She moans loudly again and then she lets out a sharp cry, a gasping breath, and her voice breaks apart as she trembles.
And it pulls me into my climax. I come in my fist with a groan that I don't even try to muffle, my whole body flexing, waves of pleasure tearing through me so intensely that for a few seconds I forget where I am.
For a long moment, neither of us speaks. There’s just the sound of our ragged breathing, two people slowly coming back to earth.
"Holy shit," she finally says, and I bark out a laugh that's half air and disbelief.
"Yeah. Holy shit pretty much covers it."
"I think I just had an out-of-body experience."
"Good. That was the goal."
She giggles, and it’s so sweet and satisfying.
The conversation drifts after that. We stay on the phone, voices low and lazy, saying nothing and everything. She tells me her feet are cold and she's too weak to find socks. I tell her I'm lying in a mess that I'll deal with in a minute since moving sounds impossible. We laugh.
"This is the best part," she says quietly. "The after part. Where you're here."
"I am here."
"I know." A pause. "I really like your voice."
"I really like your everything."
She's quiet for a beat, and I know she’s smiling. Just like I am.
"Goodnight, hon."
"Goodnight, trouble."
The call ends and I clean myself up with the shirt I was wearing.
I'm falling for someone I've never laid eyes on. I don't know her real name or her face or where she buys her groceries. I only know the things that matter—how she laughs, what scares her, what she sounds like when she comes apart from my voice, and that she sees the me most people don’t.
I pick up my phone one more time and open the retreat confirmation. Two weeks from Saturday at a mountain lodge I’ll get to see her face.
I can't wait.