Chapter 21
Our schedules didn”t line up, at all and when Sloan was available to talk, I was on stage or getting ready to go on stage or in the VIP tent doing a meet and greet. When I was available to talk, he was in practice, a game, or a post-game interview.
Maya: I missed your call. I can tlk now?
Sloan: heading 2 practice. Talk in a couple hours?
Maya: Show prep then. Sry
Sloan: I miss you
Maya: Miss u 2
* * *
Sloan: your voicemail made my night.
Maya: I swear soon we”ll catch a break and get to tlk
Sloan: I miss you
Maya: miss u 2
* * *
Maya: Heading to bed. I”m spent.
Sloan: …
Maya: I”ll call tmrw
Sloan: ”night
* * *
Sloan: Good flight. Just landed in Miami
Maya: Headed 2 show rt now
Sloan: break a leg
Maya: Play hard. Don”t break anything.
And that was the general gist of how it went for us.
But tonight, we”d sorted our schedules and since we were in the same time zone, he would skip the post-game interview and I”d skip dinner.
My phone rang right as I hit the door to my hotel room.
”Sloan,” I said his name into the phone as I flipped the latch on the door and leaned against it.
The Dimefront guys all traveled with their families, so they insisted on comfort, and that meant only the best hotels.
”Maya,” he said my name like he was lost at sea, and my voice was there to rescue him.
I got that because, damn, was I relieved, too.
I dropped my bag on the chair near the window and flopped onto the mattress. I”d changed out of the rhinestones at the stadium and into sweatpants and a cropped tank top.
”Tell me about everything,” he said, his voice low and comforting—and, gah, just listening to him made me want to quit everything, jump on a plane, and then jump on him.
”Every day is different, and every day is the same,” I said, turning to my side to prop the phone against my ear. ”But tonight”s show was so good. The band was on fire, and the audience was just in it.”
”Yeah?” he asked, clearly waiting for me to say more.
”You want to video call?” I asked, already pushing the button to turn the audio into a video.
Sloan”s face was on the screen, and my heart was finally happy, until the buffering wheel of doom spun and the damn call dropped.
”No, no, no.” I started to call him back, but my phone was already ringing.
”Hi,” I said. ”The call?—”
”Maybe we stick to this right now?” he asked with a chuckle. ”I don”t want to lose you again tonight.”
”How was practice?” I asked, putting the phone on speaker and settling in so I wouldn”t touch anything else that might disconnect us.
Sloan told me all about the team, about the hotel where he was staying, and all about how Elliott had gotten him a meeting with the ZipZing people again.
Sloan was, as expected, not so keen on the idea, given the history.
And then there was a rustling of his bedding, the muffled noise of him moving on the mattress.
”Are you in bed?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
”Yeah, you?” he asked.
”I am,” I said. ”I don”t want to get up for a full twenty-four hours. I swear I could just sleep. But then I try to sleep, and I toss and turn.”
”Same,” he said. ”Fuck, I miss you.”
”What are you doing now?” I asked, squirming a little because hearing his voice had caused an ache between my thighs.
”Pretty sure I”m about to put my hand on my dick and ask you to tell me a story,” he said.
Well, that sounded like a fine time to me, too. I could curse the buffering wheel of doom and poor Wi-Fi, but there was something to be said for just hearing him talk to me that way.
Now, my body was all buzzing with energy, and I had that vision of him with his hand on himself and his face going slack and?—
”I mean, since sleep isn”t likely,” he said, uncertain.
”And we”re married. Alone. And I”d love to help you…uh…get a handle on things?” I agreed. ”I think right now, we have to do whatever we can do to get through this separation.”
There was more rustling on his end, and I”d never actually done this before, like this, so I didn”t have any experience to go on.
”How…uh…how does this work?” I asked.
Obviously, I understood the logistics, but did we lay ground rules or expectations? Should I get the salt and pepper?
”Well, gorgeous, I suppose you put your hand between your legs and do whatever you do to get yourself there. And I”d do my thing on this end.”
Okay, sure, well, I got that part.
”Sloan,” I said, a little uncertain that I”d even be good at this.
”Maya,” he said my name in a way that gave me a total hit of confidence.
It”ll work! It”ll work!
”You think an…um…a…release…will help you sleep?” I asked.
”Yes,” he said, simply. ”It almost always works for me.”
Oh.
I said nothing because what was I supposed to say?
”Do you, uh, do it a lot?” I asked. I mean, I was his wife, so it was fine for me to ask the question.
”Handle things while you”re away?” He chuckled, low and deep. ”Only if I want to sleep.”
I made a garbled noise, because now I had to think about the fact that when he texted me g”night, and we weren”t able to connect, I”d be going on stage or something like that, and he”d be ”handling” things.
”Maya?” he asked.
”Hmmm?”
”You want to do this?”
”Sure.” That came out way too perky and not so enthusiastic. Shit. ”I mean”—I took a deep breath—”yes, I want to do this with you.”
”Move your hand under your pajamas, Maya. Between your legs,” he said, and the command in his voice? Oh, yes, please!
”Tell me what you feel,” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly.
Damn, damn, damn. I slipped under the blankets because I couldn”t just do this right on top of them.
”Maya,” he said my name as a command. ”Hand between your legs, baby.”
I did as I was told, moving my hand underneath the duvet, beneath the drawstring band of my pajama bottoms, down between my legs, to the spot I knew intuitively would make me?—
Yup, I moaned.
”What do you feel, gorgeous?” he asked.
”I”m wet for you.” I was. So soaked. I circled the bundle of nerves above my opening and bit at my lip to stop myself from moaning.
A vision of him over the top of me was right there in my periphery, his hard length filling me, his breath against my cheek, his beard brushing my jaw.
”Sloan,” I murmured. To be honest, I wasn”t entirely certain which Sloan I spoke to—vision Sloan or reality Sloan. It didn”t matter though. My body was primed for both of us, and I was the only one here.
”I want to be inside you,” real Sloan said over the line. ”I see your picture and get your texts, and all I want is to taste you and feel your legs wrapped around my shoulders.”
I pressed harder against the circle at the apex of my thighs. Circling the wetness there and letting the sensations carry me away.
”I want you, too,” I said, lifting my hips for better pressure.
He wasn”t even there in the same room, and the energy between us still sizzled and snapped. This wasn”t sexual tension. This was straight-up desire.
”Use two fingers and take care of things for me,” he said, his words low and husky. ”My hands are full.”
”Sloan, are you...” Getting off on this? Relaxing? Enjoying things? Going to sleep? Dabbling in a touch of embroidery while I?—
”Focus on yourself,” he said. Again, like it was a command.
I was Maya, and this was insanely hot, but I didn”t have to take orders from anyone, thank you.
”Maya,” he said with that bedroom tone of his.
Actually, I didn”t mind taking orders from him. Not like this, anyway.
Whatever, they were good orders, so who was I to question them?
I circled myself again. Slipping a fingertip down to tease my entrance, I pressed against the warm spot inside that always got me there faster.
”Tell me what you”re doing?” he said.
Uh… ”Touching myself.” As requested, commander.
I didn”t say the last part.
”You rubbing your cherry?” he asked.
”Uh-huh,” I said, as I hit a nice sensitive spot that made the sound breathy.
”Flick it,” he commanded.
Um, ”scuse me?
”I said to flick it, Maya,” he said, again. ”Use your finger and do it.”
Um… that wasn”t…
”Maya,” he said in a growl, and I totally flicked it.
And that”s how my trek up Orgasm Mountain sped up. Huh, I was breathing hard, and my heels were on the mattress, my knees bent. I didn”t even care that the blankets had fallen away, and I was wide open.
I moaned. I did. My hand circled and pressed and did things exactly right.
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.