44. Rosy
FORTY-FOUR
ROSY
I groan as I reach my bed; it feels like I’m waddling. Bry needs to stop cooking amazing food. I can’t bring myself to stop eating.
It was Mexican tonight, and those sweet, sticky mushroom tacos were out of this world. If I had any space left inside me, I’d be eating more of them right now. But the best part? I’m taking leftovers to the farm tomorrow.
Nanna was a good cook; though it was a bit hit and miss sometimes when she experimented.
I shudder as I recall the rice pudding she’d made with pasta and the pizza she’d topped with exotic fruits and cheese.
But the rest of the time, her food had been comforting.
I’ve honestly never felt as well cared for since losing her until Bry started cooking for me.
I wiggle under my covers and pick up my e-reader. It’s not too late tonight, so I’m taking the opportunity to read before I sleep. Noah’s a much quicker reader than I am, so I don’t want to fall too far behind this time.
My phone vibrates on the side table, startling me from a heated scene.
Noah
Wondered if you’re still awake?
Me
I am. Just reading our book in bed.
His name flashes on the screen as an incoming call. Tingles prickle my skin, and I stare at it for a second.
“Hi,” I answer, hoping he can’t hear the breathlessness in my voice. He knows I’m in bed, so I shouldn’t sound like I'm midway through a workout. Or what if he thinks I’m one of those heavy phone breathers?
“I’m reading it too.”
“How are you finding it so far?” I enquire, nervous. It was a risky choice.
Whilst it has plot, it’s also…spicy. There’s nothing happening behind closed doors, and I know explicit scenes aren’t for everyone. But it had been on my Tbr for a while, and I loved the author's writing, so sharing it with Noah felt special.
He blows out a breath before responding. “Admittedly, it wasn’t what I was expecting. But I’m enjoying how the author is introducing all the characters and the post-apocalyptic world. I can already feel the tension between the two main characters.”
“That’s what I love about her writing. She really manages to make the characters feel real and relatable. What chapter are you on?”
He chuckles, and as the sound travels to my ear, my toes curl. “It’s an interesting scene. They’ve had to take shelter in the bunker…”
“Ooh, I’m on that one too,” I say, feeling my cheeks heat thinking about us both reading it at the same time. It’s not the spiciest scene I’ve ever read, but it’s definitely not PG-rated either.
“Can I…ask you something?” I add, the curiosity burning even though my stomach clenches at the idea of asking.
“Please do.”
“When you…erm…when you read the scene, being that it’s from the MMC’s point of view…do you… Well, does it resonate? I think I’m just curious, as it’s written by a woman. So are any of his feelings relatable?”
“I think they are, to an extent. The same goes for all characters. You might find them relatable but not always. I’m not sure I can entirely put myself in the mind of a post-apocalyptic, unhinged MC who’s just killed off three men and needs to go feral on the woman he’s attracted to.” He chuckles.
“You don’t think you’d go feral for someone?”
“I don’t think feral is the right word. But consumed to the point I can’t think or feel anything but her? Yes.”
“Oh.” It comes out less of a word and more of a long exhale.
“Was that not the answer you wanted?”
“No,” I rush to explain. “It’s not that. I was trying to picture what it would be like to see you like that. I have an active imagination, and it can be annoying sometimes.”
“I think about you all day, every day. There isn’t a moment when you’re not on my mind, Rosy. I’m consumed just by the thought of you.”
How does he manage to make such effortless, bold statements like that? I squirm, rubbing my thighs together because I’m starting to ache.
“And if it was more than thoughts? If I were with you right now?” I boldly ask, hoping he can’t hear how starved of oxygen I feel.
“Then I would tug your body up mine, slowly, so I could feel the weight of your breasts against me, before sucking one into my mouth. The heavy softness would have me groaning around it.”
“And then?” I don’t try to hold back the needy impatience. I need him to continue.
“I’d take my time, taking each one into my mouth, sucking and pulling until you ache.”
Mission accomplished. They are already so sensitive. I slip my fingers beneath my shirt and slide them up my stomach to my breasts, massaging and tugging at my nipple.
I don’t need to prompt him this time. “Then I’d slide you up further, feel your arousal coating my chest before your knees come to rest on either side of my head. That pretty, glistening part of you hovering over my mouth…”
“And then?” My hand follows his words as his focus moves down my body. My lower muscles clench in anticipation as I spread my lower lips for him.
“My hands would trail up and down the backs of your thighs, gripping, squeezing your cheeks, then pulling them apart, letting you feel me get so close to where you need me. I’d watch as you get wetter, so close to dripping on my face, before I’d tug you down and trace my tongue around that slick hole. ”
Holy shit.
The moan slips free. I’m too far gone to hold it back.
“Where’s your imagination taking you?” Noah asks.
“I’m picturing everything.”
“Are you as wet as I’m imagining?”
I can’t tell if the heat in my cheeks is from embarrassment or from how turned on I am. I don’t know how I didn’t think he’d make a great dirty talker, but perhaps his profession has its perks, and he just has a way with words.
It’s making me reevaluate all the bad boy book boyfriends I’ve obsessed over.
“Yes, it’s…everywhere,” I whisper, my fingers slipping around my opening.
It feels different from if I were doing this by myself, even with an audiobook or my e-reader to assist my imagination. There’s something more heated, sensual about having him whisper in my ear how he would position me and what he’d do.
His low groan has my hips tilting, picturing it against my clit as I sit on his face.
“Tell me,” I beg, desperate to find out what more he wants from me.
“I’d grind you into my face. Suffocating me with the feel of you, the perfect taste of you. Coating my tongue in your arousal, I’d flick it against your clit, circling and pressing against the needy part of you. Watching your breasts bounce as you lose yourself.”
We’re both panting now, although mine sounds harsher than his. My fingers slide into my entrance and rub my clit. My hips thrust, seeking more than I can give myself.
“You’d rock faster, your cute little moans filling the space around us. My hands would dig into your cheeks as I spread them for more access, drinking down your wetness before I go back to your clit. Do you need my tongue flat or pointed to get you there?”
“Pointed,” I mewl, my finger strumming in quick motions as I circle around the bundle of nerves. Everything’s starting to feel fuzzy, the room around me fading. The only thing that’s real is the sound of his voice in my ear.
“I’m so close.”
“Fuck, me too. I want to hear you.”
My body turns rigid at the thought of him stroking himself too; he’s imagining me and getting off on it.
“I need…”
“For me to suck on that clit as I slip my fingers inside your empty opening. My length’s so hard. I’m desperate to slide it inside you, to feel you grip me as you—”
“Noah,” I grit out, back arcing as my body locks up. Everything around me fades out as the tingles rocket through me.
Noise starts to filter back in, and I hear the tail end of his groan. My stomach clenches at the thought of him releasing inside me.
Silence settles between us. I don’t know what to say after having phone sex with him. Is this why people don’t do it anymore? It just creates this awkward feeling once the bubble bursts.
“Well, you definitely did some consuming,” I blurt, needing to say something. I think the silence would have been better, though.
He laughs, it’s post-orgasmic husky, and I love that sound from him. “Not quite as satisfying when it’s in our imagination. I bet it would be better in person.”
“You want to do that to me in real life?”
“Rosy, I want to do that and so much more.”
“Oh.”
“Why do you think I wouldn’t?” he asks.
“I don’t know. You’re just so…teacher-like. It’s hard to imagine you in the throes of passion.”
“I’m unsure how to digest that.”
My gut spasms at his words, afraid I’ve said something to hurt or annoy him.
Clenching my sheets tightly in my hand, I rush to explain.
“No, I don’t mean it in a bad way. I guess I mean, I just thought you’d be more controlled, sensual rather than heated and…
hungry?” I don’t think I’ve managed to make anything better.
“I can see your point. I don’t think I’m one or the other; it just depends on the moment. I’ve imagined candles, intense contact, heated breaths…then other times fumbled, desperate encounters where we don’t even bother undressing. The only common theme is that I need it to be with you.”
Oxygen fills my lungs, expanding tightly with all the surging warmth his words bring me.
“I want that with you, all of it.”
“I don’t want to hang up yet,” he admits.
I suck my lip into my mouth, biting down quickly to hold in the excited noise wanting to answer him. “Then don’t.”
At his answering chuckle, I curl onto my side and get cosy beneath the sheets.
“Won’t you be tired for the farm tomorrow?”
“No, I’ll be okay. I’m not a great sleeper, and Max mentioned coming tomorrow to help.”
“How are you feeling about him being there? He’s not gone since you had that chat, has he?”
I blow out a low breath, rubbing my hand across my forehead. “No, he hasn’t. I don’t know how to take it. It’s confusing what we’re supposed to do now, as we weren’t friends long enough before to know what the parameters are.”
He hums. “If you’re uncomfortable with any of it, you can say that to him. He needs to be mindful of your feelings and boundaries too.”
“Thank you. I think it’s… He told me he didn’t want to be more than friends. But even knowing that, I can’t seem to shut off my feelings. They’re not friendship feelings,” I admit, chewing my lip as the uncomfortable truth comes out.
“That’s okay too. If you want to keep spending time with him, you can do that. If you need to distance yourself, you can do that too. You have every right to decide what you need, whether it’s to protect yourself or to let the feelings fade.”
The idea of them fading has my breath catching. I…don’t want that. But I can’t force Max to reciprocate them.
“Okay, thank you for hearing me out. I’m sorry to be such a mess; it’s probably a downer after what we…did.”
“Rosy, your feelings are never a turn off. Promise me you’ll never stop talking to me about how you feel?” His demand pushes against me, making me want to nod and agree to everything.
“I promise.”
“Good, but I think we both need to get some sleep.” He chuckles, and my answering smile’s warm and indulgent.
“I am feeling sleepy now. Goodnight. Thank you for…”
“The orgasm? Still struggling to say it?” He laughs louder this time, and I huff.
“I can say it. I just don’t need to right now. Goodnight, Noah.”
“Okay, if you say so,” he teases. “Goodnight, Rosy.”