19. Isla
ISLA
“How are you feeling?” Locke asked, his voice gravelly as it echoed through the phone. It sounded like he’d spent the whole day talking, which he probably had with the sheer number of property meetings he’d been taking lately.
“Better now,” I admitted. I’d been finishing up my post-shower routine when he’d called. He usually tried to reach me in the evenings to catch up on our days before we both went to bed.
“Because you’re finally talking to me?”
I caught myself grinning in the mirror at his flirty tone.
“Well, obviously. You know how I enjoy our evening catch-ups. But actually, what I meant was that I spent half my day with my head in the toilet because the baby was not happy about something. Thankfully, my stomach seems to have settled now, so I’m in much better spirits. ”
I put the phone on speaker so I could unwrap the towel from my hair, scrunching out the last of the water. “I really don’t know why they call it morning sickness if it happens at all times of the day. It’s kind of a downer when you realize you’re still nauseated at three in the afternoon.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you had morning sickness when I texted you earlier?” Locke demanded. “I want to know these kinds of things, Isla. Maybe I could have—”
“What?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he sputtered. “Sent you ginger ale or ordered you toast or something.”
I smiled. “No need to order them all the way from Edinburgh when I have both of them at the inn.”
He huffed. “Well, I could have sent Lena to check on you at the very least. She would have been happy to do it, and it would have given me some peace of mind.”
I laughed softly as he trailed off, muttering.
“I know you asked them to keep an eye on me, and that was very sweet of you. But you don’t have to bother her or Weston for a little bit of morning sickness.
It’s a normal pregnancy thing. It’s not like I spouted gills and purple polkadots.
That I definitely would have told you about. ”
“I just don’t like hearing that you’ve been unwell all day,” he said.
Yeah, well, I don’t much like it myself, I thought but didn’t say.
If I complained, Locke would try to fix the problem, and there wasn’t anything to fix here.
My stomach was going to do what it was going to do.
The only thing I could think of that would really make me feel better would be for him to be here—but that clearly wasn’t an option.
Missing him sucked, but it sucked even more when I dwelled on it.
“I think we should just count ourselves lucky that it’s been so sporadic.
Apparently, some women get it so badly and so constantly that they have to be hospitalized.
But hey,” I said brightly, “if you feel like you’re missing out, you’ve still got the swollen feet, back aches, and indigestion to look forward to. ”
Locke chuckled lightly, slightly more reassured. “I see many massage requests in my future. I better watch some tutorials.”
Long-distance massages? I didn’t see how that could possibly work, but I banished that thought as quickly as I had it.
Locke would be back. I’d just seen him a few days ago for our first meeting with the midwife at the hospital in Aberdeen, which was the closest maternity care center to Braeburn.
Sure, he’d walked in three minutes before the appointment started, eyes glued to his phone, and had to bail as soon as it was done to make it back to the city before a big investor meeting.
But he’d still showed up, and that’s what mattered.
Right?
I stroked my belly beneath the oversized shirt I’d stolen from Locke’s duffle bag before he left, then I grabbed my phone, carrying it out to my bed. “How’s your day been?” I asked, changing the subject deliberately.
“Rammed with back-to-back meetings,” he said, sighing heavily. I could tell he was almost as tired as I was. “But all around productive.”
“That’s good, I suppose. Any property updates?”
“Tons,” he said. “We’ve finally confirmed a day for the topographic survey with the site engineer. So that was the big win for today.”
I perked up. That sounded like something that would bring him back to Braeburn. “Are you going to be in town for that?”
“Not this time. I’ve got that meeting with the environmental and sustainability consultant I told you about. Someone on my team will fly out to meet the engineer for me.”
Oh…
“Legal has started drawing up contractor agreements, though,” Locke continued, “so that’s been exciting.”
I set the phone on the nightstand as I pulled down the comforter. “Lena was saying Weston gave you the list of people they used for the camp renovation?”
“Yeah. That was a huge help. I wanted to use as many local businesses as possible, and I know I can trust anyone Lena’s vetted.”
“She’s great like that,” I agreed. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him when he thought he’d be back, and for how long, but I didn’t want to be that overly clingy girlfriend who couldn’t stand a few weeks apart.
I just had to keep reminding myself the pregnancy hormones were making me extra emotional about the distance.
I was strong and capable and used to managing things on my own.
Plus, I had tons of support here—Cat and Lena and Weston, for starters.
“I got an email reminder from Jo about the summer festival this afternoon,” Locke said. “Apparently, I’ve been signed up to judge the haggis competition.”
I laughed, climbing into bed. “I’m not surprised.
When Lena judged it last year, she barely made it to the toilet before it all came back up.
She swore she’d never bite into another haggis ever again.
Good to know you’ll be handling it. I will make sure I am in attendance to capture your varying expressions of disgust on camera.
I’ve heard Marlene Shaw is preparing a haggis cupcake flight with mashed tattie frosting. ”
Locke hummed. “That actually doesn’t sound that bad.”
“Just you wait. The words ‘pickled haggis,’ ‘smoked mackerel,’ and ‘fondue station’ have also been thrown around at the meetings, so the danger is very real.” He groaned, and I flopped down next to the giant pillow that had shown up in the mail today.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot to say thanks for the body pillow.”
“It already arrived?” Locke said. “That’s great! I was hoping it wouldn’t be too long. I’ve read that they’re great for body alignment for pregnant women, especially further on. You’re supposed to be sleeping on your side after twenty-eight weeks.”
“Another thing this baby is demanding of me,” I joked. I was a consistent stomach sleeper, but I supposed those days were behind me now. If the body pillow would make it easier to adjust, then I was willing to try.
“Is it big enough?” he asked. “You should be able to wrap both your arms and legs around it while keeping your spine in a neutral position.”
“It’s massive,” I confirmed, rolling into it. I squeezed, pretending it was him. “Almost feels like having another person in the bed with me.”
Locke grumbled, the sound low, eliciting a tiny shiver from me. “I better be the only other person you want in your bed.”
I smirked. “I’m not going to catch feelings for the body pillow, don’t you worry.”
“Just remember how good I make you feel.”
“You know, I’m trying to,” I teased, flipping onto my back again and snatching up my phone. “But it’s just been so, so long since I’ve been reminded of that.”
Locke laughed breathily. “Are you feeling needy?”
“Lately, when I’m not nauseous, I’m off-the-charts horny, so that’s been fun. But after today, I can definitely say I prefer the latter.” I smirked. “Pregnancy is not for the weak, let me tell you.”
“Mmm,” he growled, the sound going straight to that space between my thighs. “I can certainly help you out with one of those things. Are you in bed?”
“Yes,” I said, my breath catching on the word. A flutter of sensation stirred in my gut. What did he mean help me out?
“Good,” he said. I could tell he was grinning. It was probably that little half smile I was so fond of. “Why don’t you get nice and relaxed. Go ahead and close your eyes for me.”
“Locke,” I started, a little uncertain. A flush crawled up my neck. Were we really doing this?
“Close your eyes,” he said again, leaving no room for argument, and my heart beat even faster.
“O-okay,” I said, letting my eyes flutter closed, listening to his voice over the speaker.
“What are you wearing?” he asked.
“Your shirt,” I told him.
He gave a raspy chuckle. “I thought something was missing from my duffle. What else?”
“Nothing else,” I said.
“Yes,” he groaned. “Just the way I like you. Bare for me.”
My clit pulsed in response.
“I bet if I slid my fingers between your thighs, I’d find you wet and wanting.”
My eyes clenched as my hand drifted down my body, wrenching up the hem of Locke’s shirt. I let my palm drift over my belly, goosebumps erupting across my skin.
“I bet you’d start moaning as I parted your legs and kissed my way across your thighs,” Lock continued.
“Mm-hmm,” I said, letting my hand drift over my skin, imitating what he was describing.
“Then you’d start writhing against the bed, asking me to touch you. Begging me.”
I wanted so badly for him to touch me. I wanted him here, his hands on my body, his breath warm against my skin. I imagined him crawling up the bed toward me, all contained strength like a jungle cat on the prowl. I imagined the hungry look in his eyes as his cock pressed against my leg.
I shifted, letting my thighs part as my hand moved even lower. Finally, my fingers brushed over my clit, and I gasped.
“That’s it,” he growled. “Touch yourself.”
I stroked that soft bud, my lower lip caught between my teeth.
“Touch yourself the way I do,” he ordered.
I increased the pressure slightly, increased the speed, finding the rhythm that always got me off.
“Does it feel good?” he asked. “Do I feel good?”
“Yes.” I swallowed hard, falling all too easily into the fantasy that it was his hand driving me wild.
“That’s right,” he said. “Work those perfect circles around your clit.”
I rocked up against my hand, thinking about the way he’d curl two fingers into me right about now. About how good it would feel as he started thrusting. I sucked in a strangled breath as that needy ache bled across my body, setting me on fire.
“I know you’re getting close,” Locke said. “I can hear those breathy little moans.”
“Ughhhh,” was all I managed as a shock of pleasure sparked across my abdomen.
“I know you wish I was there so I could fuck you,” he said. “I know you want my cock. You’re desperate for it now.”
I whined, my hand cramping as I increased the pressure on my clit. I imagined him lining up at my entrance and snapping his hips forward. Even without him there, my back arched in anticipation, wanting more. I always wanted more when it came to him.
“Come for me,” Locke said. “Come against my hand. I want to feel that needy little clit pulsing.”
I cried out as the orgasm caught me, my entire body seizing up as the tingles of pleasure swept down my limbs. It was stronger than I’d anticipated, leaving me breathless for a moment. “Oh, God.”
“I think you mean ‘Oh, Locke,’” he said.
I huffed a laugh as the daze lingered, my clit still pulsing against my fingers. I rode out the waves and the aftershocks, groaning as the tension abated, leaving me loose and relaxed. When it was finally over, I let my eyes flutter open.
“Did that take the edge off?” he asked.
I sighed heavily. Happily. “It was perfect.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Can’t have my girl going to bed unsatisfied.”
“I didn’t realize you were so adept at phone sex,” I said, a wave of exhaustion settling over me.
“You have much to look forward to,” he said. “I didn’t even get around to sending you any explicit pictures.”
I liked the sound of that. “You know, pictures can go both ways.”
He made a grunt of approval. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Well, then…maybe you’ll get a surprise tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait. G’night, Isla. I’ll message you in the morning.”
“Night, Locke,” I whispered, still caught in that post-orgasm bliss as we hung up. I rolled over, reaching for the body pillow again, pleasantly wrung out. But as my eyes landed on that half-empty side of the bed—the side I’d come to think of as Locke’s—I felt a stab of loneliness.
The phone sex had been great and fun, but snuggling into a body pillow afterward instead of his arms felt weirdly…hollow. It just wasn’t the same, and I drifted off to sleep satisfied yet oddly disappointed.