Chapter Thirteen #2
I get that now. She sat on her bed, curling her legs up beneath her. Are you going to let me come?
Not sure, he wrote. Ask me again in a half hour.
A half hour, was he fucking kidding? She frowned at the phone. Seriously?
Seriously, he wrote back. I’m in public. And since you’re pushing back, edge at least five times in that half hour.
Maggie didn’t like not getting her way, but also, she loved the thrill of playing along. Fine, she wrote.
What was that? he replied. Doesn’t seem to be a good way to talk to me. Make it ten edges.
She groaned, even though there was no one around to hear her. Yes, sir.
Good girl.
Maybe he was pushing her too far. Blake leaned against the wall outside the grocery store and looked at Rose’s last few messages.
She was clearly pushing his buttons, and he had shopping to do.
But instead of shopping, he was standing here outside the store, messaging because he didn’t want to disappoint her, and also because the cold autumn air was the only thing keeping his erection at bay.
Now he had a half hour before she asked to come again, and he’d never finish grocery shopping in that time.
He really wanted to be in his bedroom with the door locked when he played with her again.
But he had a hard time not replying when she reached out, even when he was in the middle of something else.
He was struggling to define this thing with Rose, which was moving away from impersonal kinky sex play and into the realm of somewhat personal kinky sex play mixed with friendship.
He liked her. They had been talking basically every night lately.
He wanted to meet her in person. The odds of her knowing or caring about his double life were slim, but he was reluctant to take the chance without really thinking it through.
But he wanted to trust her. And, most of all, he wanted to see if there was the potential for anything else between them, something beyond the sexting and ever-increasing friendly conversations.
He pushed his cart through the aisles, adding items, his brain still humming in the background.
His list was organized by aisle and he barely had to think.
This was the kind of mindless task he enjoyed, the kind that let him process his days, but god, right now he wanted to be back in the apartment typing filthy things to a woman he desperately wanted to meet.
In the checkout line, his phone buzzed in his pocket again. It had been thirty-one minutes.
Please sir, please may I come?
He smiled. She was so sweet when she was begging. He didn’t know if her voice was low and rough, or high-pitched and desperate. He had imagined it several ways. But he was in the grocery checkout line, and he was also feeling saucy.
How far are you willing to be pushed? he asked.
I don’t know.
He liked her honesty. I’m in the middle of something. I’ll message you back in a few minutes. Ride that edge and wait for me.
Yes, sir.
He could feel the desperation in her reply. He smiled and put his phone in his pocket. He was loading up groceries onto the conveyor belt here, and somewhere she was rubbing her clit and trying not to come, wet and needy and obeying him. No, he couldn’t think of that right now. He was in public.
He had the groceries loaded within five minutes, but he held off for another few moments. She must still be waiting.
If he were there with her, he would be able to tell how far to push her. He could learn her limitations and boundaries more easily. Doing all this through text was much harder.
Are you still being good? he asked.
Yes, sir, she replied after a moment. I’m falling apart.
He could be there, driving her wild. He could tie her to the bed and make her wait until he was through with her. Do you really want to come, Rose? Or do you want to stay like this all evening, desperate and horny?
A long pause. He took the opportunity to walk the block to the T station.
Fuck, why do you do this to me? she asked. I don’t know what I want. I can’t think.
If she couldn’t make good decisions right now, he needed to ease off. But he could still tease her. I might lose signal, he wrote. Wouldn’t it be a shame if I left you like this and you didn’t know when you’d hear from me again tonight?
No, please, she wrote back immediately. Please don’t do that.
I won’t, he wrote. You’ve been such a good girl. Come for me, sweetheart.
No reply while he went down to the T platform, no reply while he caught the next train. His signal blinked in and out and finally came back as the train resurfaced above ground. Her messages flooded in all at once.
Fuck, thank you, sir, that was incredible.
Oh, my god, I think I blacked out.
I might be dead. Is this death? I’m dead.
He smiled at that one.
And finally, Will you message me again tonight?
You want to play again? he wrote back, the train rattling along toward his stop. Greedy, greedy.
No, she wrote back. I want to talk to you. Like we’ve been doing. I like our nightly chats.
He smiled at the phone. Of course we can talk. How about before bed? Unless you’re lonely and need to talk now.
No, I’m good. I’m good. I just want to … I don’t know.
The message came through like that, hanging, before she followed it up with another. I like talking before bed.
I get it, he replied. I like that too.
Their conversation rolled over in his mind as he brought the groceries home, up the flight of stairs into the condo.
Maggie was sitting on the couch when he walked inside.
She smiled, looking up from her phone. “Hey.” She got to her feet and tucked her phone in her pocket.
“Thanks for getting groceries. I’ll put them away. ”
“I can help.” They put the groceries away, side by side, both unusually quiet. Blake’s mind was filled with Rose, not to mention the latent arousal he was keeping at bay, but Maggie’s secrets were her own.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said, gesturing to the bathroom. “You need anything in there first?”
“Nope, I’m good.” Maggie pulled her phone out again. “Gonna play a game.”
The hot shower relaxed all of Blake’s muscles, and finally, he gave into thoughts of Rose.
He jerked off fast and hard, pressing his face to his forearm against the shower wall, giving in to the swift current of desire.
When he came, pleasure zipping along his nerves, he let out only a single shuddering breath into the room, the sound muffled by the overhead fan.
When he finally left the bathroom, Maggie had traded her phone for her Kindle. She’d wrapped a fuzzy blanket around herself on the couch, leaving only her head and hands peeking out from the warmth. “Are you cold? I can close the windows.”
“No, I’m cozy.” She took a cup of tea from the coffee table and sipped it. “Water’s still hot if you want some tea.”
Tea on the couch with Maggie sounded perfect, so he made himself a cup and joined her.
He brought over his own book, a new one he’d recently picked up on small-space agricultural designs, and turned on the end table light to cast a warm glow across them both.
The couch was barely big enough, and her feet kept poking his leg through the blanket.
He finally looked up from his book and tapped her ankle. “You can put them in my lap if you want.”
“Am I poking you? I’m sorry.” She tried to scrunch further into herself.
“I mean it. C’mere.” He patted his lap and put his feet on the coffee table.
Wearing a hesitant expression, Maggie stretched out her legs across his lap. They lay there, a warm weight, and he rested his book on top of her shins.
Gosh, this was nice. Hot tea beside him, a good book, Maggie’s legs across his, her feet doing a little dance as she focused on whatever she was reading.
He chanced a look over at her. She was deeply engrossed in her Kindle, eyes scanning the page, finger tapping the edge every minute. Too engrossed to interrupt. He didn’t know what she liked to read. Was it mystery? Biography? Romance? The more he learned about her, the more he wanted to know.
But he also didn’t want to interrupt. He turned back to his own plant book and flipped to the next page where he’d left off: organic composting in small spaces.
The sound of Maggie setting her Kindle down a while later brought him out of his reading reverie. In the time since they’d sat down, it had gotten dark outside, and the lights in the living room cast a warm glow in the space. “Good book?” he asked.
“Good enough that I forgot about my tea.” She made a face into the mug. “Bummer.”
“You could microwave it.”
Maggie’s mouth fell open. “That’s a cardinal sin of tea drinking. You can’t microwave tea.”
“I know.” He grinned. “I was testing you.” He poked her leg, a gentle prod. “We don’t want to incur the wrath of the tea authorities.”
Maggie shook her head gravely. “You mentioned it, though. There are some Brits on their way over right now. You’re gonna get a lifetime ban.”
Blake laughed. “What were you reading?”
“I got a romance from the library,” she said. “Real page-turner. I love those things, let me shut my mind off for a few hours, live somebody else’s life.”
“Trying to escape from your own life right now?”
She looked up at him, a few emotions flicking across her expression: surprise, hesitation, something like resignation. “There are some complicating factors on my mind, yes.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “Not really.”
He wouldn’t push.
“You get everything done on your to-do list?” She craned her neck to look toward the fridge where his to-do list was still stuck.
“For today.” He had more to do tomorrow.
“Oh, I did your laundry.” Maggie looked up. “I didn’t have a full load to do so I threw yours in with mine.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she jumped in with, “I checked the labels and made sure it could all go in the dryer.”