Chapter Twenty-Three
Ashish
“How did the pitch go?” she whispers. Finally , I think. I can’t believe she finally texted me. We’ve talked a few times on the phone while I’ve been gone, but I was always the one who initiated the conversation. Coming to Boston for my Dad’s birthday and the client pitch had felt damned inconvenient when we’d gotten to the point where we spent more time together than apart. And I wanted her with me. I didn’t want to do another family celebration without her.
“Hmm, well it was long and hard.” I try to keep my voice serious. Maybe the old adage is true, distance makes the heart grow fonder. I needed to give her space and the opportunity to miss me.
“Oh? Were there a lot of slides?” Bernie says, her voice husky and amused.
“Oh yeah, so many.” This time I can’t keep myself from laughing.
“So did you get the client?”
I slide a hand under my head and look up at the ceiling. It’s hard not to imagine what it would have been like talking to her like this over the summer. Building a life together by sharing the little things.
“They have another firm to meet with, but I think our pitch was strong. How was your day?”
“Umm, I had a good writing day.”
I quirk an eyebrow. This is the first time she’s openly talked about her research. “Oh? What were you working on?”
There’s a long pause before she finally answers. “I’ve been combining IPEDS data with university strategic plans. I’m doing a thematic analysis of their partners to evaluate opportunities for universities to improve their community engagement work.”
She speaks the words rapidly, and I only understand about half of them, but this feels like an olive branch, a show of faith that I don’t want to crush. She always changes the subject when I’ve asked about her research in the past. “That’s wonderful, Bernie.” Biting my lip, I weigh my options before asking the question that I’m dying to know. “I didn’t realize research work was part of your job.”
A car drives by, and light flashes through my curtains while I wait. Trust me, sunshine , I think. “It’s not.” She clears her throat, and I hear more rustling, like she’s trying to get comfortable. “I had an unproductive postdoc, so I’m trying to build a solid publication record and then decide if I want to go on the faculty job market.”
I’m not as attuned to academic-speak as I could be, but I know it’s bad to have an unproductive postdoc. The whole point of doing a postdoc is to pad your CV with publications to get a tenure-track faculty job at a research university.
More Bernie puzzle pieces.
“Hmm, well those journal editors would be idiots not to publish you.”
She scoffs, and I hear more shifting. “There are a lot of idiots in this world.”
“Hmm,” I rumble. “Where are you going to take me on our date?”
“Are we skipping the steamy part of our conversation then?”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, part of me had thought she’d been teasing, but the suggestion makes my dick perk up. “Oh? I didn’t realize I had anything for you to congratulate.” It’s not my first instinct to play hard to get, but I’d do just about anything for more attention from this woman.
“Even small wins should be celebrated,” she purrs, and I laugh.
“I don’t know, what if you’re trying to trick me to get in my pants and then change your mind about the date?”
“Are you wearing any pants?”
I laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“In my mind, you’re definitely not wearing pants.”
I palm my dick through my boxers, leaving her in suspense.
“Tell me,” she begs.
“Hmm, nope. I don’t put out without some kind of commitment. I’m just not that kind of guy.”
A soft sigh on the other side of the phone makes me want to be in Indiana more than I thought was humanly possible. I pull the waistband of my boxers down to stroke my cock.
“What kind of commitment?” She says it like a moan, and fuck me, I know she’s touching herself.
“Are you touching yourself, Bernie?”
“Mmm, yes. I want to hear you talk to me. Make me come, Ash.”
I stroke my shaft and consider her words. I want her, but I want to stop playing this game between us. “I’ll make you come beautiful.”
She gasps.
“If…” I rub my thumb along the underside of my cock then stroke down, pulling the foreskin taut. I imagine her hot tongue licking and her mouth sucking me.
Slow lazy strokes, I think. I enjoy the moment, not giving her what she wants. She wants my voice, my words. She wants me, and it’s about damn time she admits it.
“If what?” she moans.
“If you come home with me for Thanksgiving.” I squeeze the base of my dick then stroke up. I think about how wet she was two weeks ago, how hard it was to resist sliding inside of her. She’s going to look so fucking perfect riding my cock.
“What?” she says, snapping out of her lusty haze.
I chuckle. “Keep stroking yourself, sunshine. Get your clit nice and wet for me, and I’ll tell you how much I wish my mouth was on you right now.” Only when I hear her moan do I add, “You know you want to be with me, Bernadette. Come home with me. Say yes and I’ll give you everything.”
Her moan is strained. “Ash.”
“Say yes, Bernie.”
Her breath catches, and I realize they’re the same words I used with her the first night we met. I pause the movements of my hand and wait; wait to see if this is what’s going to shatter the magic, this new ease between us.
Trust me , I beg her silently for the thousandth time.
“Yes, Bernie,” she mocks. But despite her tone, her words are flint across my skin, sparking a desire that I’ve only felt for her.
“Finally,” I groan. She squeaks and I hear more rustling. I imagine her on her back with her hands between her legs. “I’m going to make you come so fucking hard when I see you.”
“You will?”
I smile at her question, stroking my dick and closing my eyes. “You’re going to pick me up at the airport, and I’m going to make you pull over so I can eat your pussy. I won’t be able to wait until we get back to your apartment. Would you like that?”
“Yes.” She draws the word out, and I squeeze my dick, swiping my thumb over the bead of pre-cum pooling on the tip.
“Are you going to lay in the backseat of your car and let me fuck you with my mouth? Are you going to come on my face, Bernie?”
“Fuck Ash,” she groans, and I almost laugh. She has no idea how much I’ve held back trying to give her space.
“I’m not going to let you sleep, sunshine. I’m going to fuck you over and over again until you know you’re mine.” Her sweet moans make the base of my spine tingle. She’s fucking mine and I’m going to make her believe it. Her cries are getting louder, and I can feel my balls pull tighter against my body. “That’s right, Bernie. I want you to come for me. Give me a little taste of what’s mine.”
Her peak triggers my own, and I groan as I come on my stomach, my cock jerking over and over at the thought of being with her.
“Holy shit, Ash,” she pants, and I smile.
“Are you feeling good, Bernie?” I lazily stroke my dick, savoring every echo of my orgasm.
“So good.”
“That’s because you’re finally letting me do my job and take care of you.” I can’t believe I’m having one of the most important conversations of my life with cum cooling on my stomach, but that’s life.
“You’re too much.”
“I don’t think it’s too much. Isn’t this the part where you’re supposed to confess your feelings to me?” I tease, but a little part of me needs the confirmation. Some kind of security that she’s not going to shy away again. I imagine her in bed, biting her lip and overthinking.
“I have feelings for you, Ash.”
“What kind of feelings?”
“I have un-friend-like big feelings for you.” Her voice is husky, and it makes me laugh. I guess it’s better than nothing.
“I have very un-friend-like feelings for you too.”
“I’m getting that.”
“Hmm, I fly in on Sunday. Will you pick me up?”
Her throaty laugh makes my dick twitch. I think of how insatiable I was for her that night, and I don’t know if that will ever go away.
“I think that’s a definite yes from me,” she says.
“Good, it’s a date.”
“Yeah, a date. Will you send me your flight information?”
“Yes, tomorrow. And I–” I stand and push my boxers to the floor before walking to my bathroom. I’m going to need a shower. “I want to call you again tomorrow night.”
“Okay.”
I smile. I can feel a rightness settling between us. “I miss you, Bernie.”
“I miss you too, Ash. Can’t wait to see you on Sunday.”
“Sweet dreams.”
After she hangs up, I carefully set my phone down and turn on the hot water. Two days , I promise myself.