Chapter 26 Hannah #2
“Can I tell you something?” Brody’s hair is messy.
His eyes are turning glassy, lust behind each blink.
“I’ve never been with a woman so open about her sexuality.
And it’s hot. Not because I’m picturing you with another woman or anything like that, but because you know exactly what you want, and you get it. ”
“Do you see what you do to me, Brody?” My fingers fall away from between my legs. I use my thumbs to spread myself open, really giving him a show. “This is all for you.”
“I see.” A shadow of anguish passes over his face. Jealousy that he’s not here. The ache of wanting to touch me. “I see, and it’s fucking torturing me.”
Three fingers back inside me, and I imagine it’s Brody who is fucking me when I press on my clit. I imagine he’s holding himself above me, breath warmth on my skin and kissing me until I can’t think straight. That’s how it always seems to go with him, and my mouth curls into a smile.
“Can you do something for me, Hannah?” he asks. “Please?
“As long as I get an orgasm out of it, I’ll do anything.”
“I’d never deny you that. You’re so beautiful when you come.” Brody’s throat bobs. “Can you put my shirt back on? Backward, so you’re wearing my name when you come? Countless women have shown up to games in my jerseys, but there’s never been anyone I want to see in it.”
I sit up, throwing the shirt back on and rolling it to my stomach and keeping his name visible. “How’s that?”
“Perfect,” he mumbles. “Fucking perfect. I’m not going to last much longer.”
“I’m not either.” The shirt smells like him. I picture him wearing it late at night, in bed when he’s missing me. “Race you there?”
We fall into silence after that, watching each other. Brody curses when I put my fingers in my mouth, wetting them. I hold back a moan when he strips off his shirt, leaving him naked with his body on display.
Each push of my fingers brings me closer to the edge. Shyness threatens to overtake me when Brody asks if can take a screenshot of our call, but it disappears when he tells me I’m the most beautiful woman in the world.
“I think I’m going to come,” I whisper, and a muscle in his neck jumps.
“Thank fuck. I’ve been running hockey drills in my head so I don’t finish before you,” he says, the pace of his hand increasing on his shaft.
“You waited for me? That’s sweet.”
“Sweet. Right. That’s exactly what I am while I think about putting you on all fours and finishing on your ass.”
There’s something about the raw scratch of his voice, the explicit dream of something I want too that sends me over the edge. It’s a freefall, the pleasure spreading to every inch of my body as I chase it, holding on to it for as long as I can.
When I finally return to earth with heavy breathing and heavy limbs, I open an eye to find Brody flat on his back on his bed. His arm is draped over his face. There’s cum covering his hand, and his grip slowly slackens as he blows out a long exhale.
“How is it possible that you killed me through the phone?” He props himself up on an elbow, wincing. “You’re not even here and I’m suffering.”
“Doesn’t look like suffering.” I smile and draw my fingers out of myself. My legs close. I turn onto my side, stretching out on the couch. “That was good.”
“I’m going to be asleep in ten minutes. It would be less than five if I didn’t have to shower.” Brody blinks, rubbing his eyes with his clean hand. “If this is the kind of fun everyone else is having, I can see why they’re in such good moods all the time.”
“You know what they say. Orgasms make the world go round.”
“Think you might be on to something, Hannah.” He stretches his arm above his head. “Let me shower and I’ll call you back in a few?”
“You’re tired. You should get some sleep,” I say. “I don’t want to be the reason why you’re cranky tomorrow.”
“Highly doubt that’s possible.” With a long yawn, Brody swings his legs over the side of the bed. “Five minutes.”
“Make it ten so I can rinse off too.”
We hang up, both rinsing off before he calls me back like he said he would. I climb into bed and so does he. When he pulls out a pair of glasses, I almost drop my phone on my face.
“What the fuck, Brody? You wear glasses? You can’t have all four things,” I say.
“What are the four things?” he asks, pushing them up his nose.
“Glasses. Backward hats. Gray sweatpants. Tattoos. It’s not fair.”
“I don’t wear glasses. I use them at night when my eyes are tired and I’m doing the crossword puzzle. The print is too small.”
“Oh my god.” I pull a pillow over my face and scream into it. “You’re not serious.”
“When have you ever seen me joke about something, Hannah?”
“Can I tell you something stupid?”
“Nothing you could ever say would be stupid.”
“I like you. I think you’re so fun. And, yeah, the mutual orgasms are great, but this?” I gesture between us, that same happiness from earlier when I first saw his text message making itself known. “This is even better.”
“You know I don’t like talking to people.” A long pause. A slow blink behind his thick-framed glasses, and Brody adds, “But I like talking to you.”
We stay up another hour on our video call. His eyes get heavy, and so do mine. When he starts to fall asleep, glasses slipping down his nose and phone falling out of his grip, I force him to hang up, knowing I could’ve talked to him until the sun came up and never gotten bored.