Chapter 20 #4
“You’ll get so swollen, won’t you? Just like me.
All swollen and tender, the same way I do when I’m almost there.
Last night, I pretended that I was you. Everything I was doing to myself, I was doing to you.
” She’d stared down between her legs as she pressed the vibrator’s head just to the side of her clit and felt herself grow thick against the pressure.
Thought, as she’d done it, about what that same swelling might feel like inside her own mouth, what it might be like to get the little nub so full.
“Did you come, sweetheart?” Sadie asked her softly. “Did thinking about me make you come?”
“Yes.” Anne was starting to pant, too. She thrust her hips up against her hand, pinched one nipple beneath her bra, moaned. “I came so hard.”
“Oh.” Sadie’s voice hitched up, as though she’d—she was touching herself, too; that was what that sound was. Anne had made Sadie touch herself. “I need that. More than anything. I have to make you do that. Keep talking.”
Anne’s mind would be whirling if she still had one. If she were still a person and not a tangle of sparks frantically searching for anything to help her burn.
Trembling, she whispered, “I need you to fuck me.”
Sadie whimpered, just once. So quietly that Anne almost didn’t hear her.
“And I don’t want you to be gentle. Don’t worry, I can take it. Whatever you want to give me, I’ll take it. I’ve been practicing.”
Another wordless noise, and then, “Anne—”
“Fill me out. Isn’t that how you put it?” She couldn’t stop. “What you fantasized about when you couldn’t sleep? Except there was another woman involved. Josephine, right? She was the one filling me out while you listened.”
“Oh no,” Sadie moaned, and the deep, needy shudder of it told Anne everything she needed to know. “Oh—n-no, oh, please—”
“That drove you crazy, didn’t it? I can see why. The thought of another woman in your place. Taking the pussy that belongs to you.”
A shocked cry, almost a sob. “Anne!”
“It’s not some imaginary woman’s, Sadie. It’s not anyone else’s. It’s yours. Do you like hearing that?” Anne lifted her hips off the chair and, in one fast movement, yanked off her pants, her underwear, too, throwing them to the floor.
“Oh my God,” Sadie choked out, “oh God, yes, y-you—please, oh please, please—”
Not wasting any time, Anne parted her thighs and slid one finger between the lips there. She pressed it against her tender clit, sharp shocks of pleasure arcing through her. “You’ll claim me tomorrow. You’ll make me beg for it.” It came out like a plea.
“Oh—”
“Talk to me, honey. Tell me what you’re doing to yourself.”
“Between my legs,” Sadie got out, “heel of my hand—grinding hard on it—ah fuck—”
Thrusting against her own hand, Anne moaned. The ache inside her was screaming to be filled, louder and deeper by the second.
“What are you—?”
“Pulled my pants off—touching my, my clit—”
A pause, and then Sadie said, low, breathless, “Spread your legs wide, sweetheart. Show me what’s mine to use.”
Anne couldn’t stop the wail that came out of her throat. Without thinking, she obeyed immediately, and the stroke of cool air against her damp flesh made her feel shameless.
Her hips lifted. If Sadie were here, she’d see how pink and puffy she’d made Anne, wouldn’t she? Would she hold Anne’s slit apart with her fingers, look at the slippery skin there, watch as the little hole fluttered and pulsed?
Sadie was making a whole string of tiny noises in Anne’s ear, little breathy cries.
“Need it,” Anne gasped, which made her need it even more. “I have to have something inside me—”
“You need to be so full, don’t you?” A threadbare whisper. “Use your fingers. Fuck yourself and let me hear it. Will you do that for me? Will you give your pussy what it’s made to take?”
Anne clenched around nothing—hard.
“Girls who listen,” Sadie said roughly, “get to come.”
“I—” Anne managed. She stood up, fast enough to get dizzy. Grabbed her phone. And then she raced to the bedroom.
The needy animal between her thighs felt like a hot and heavy weight, each of her steps nearly unbearable as Sadie’s hard breaths sounded through the phone clutched in Anne’s hand.
She would grab the lube out of her bedside table drawer—she had to grab the lube; she’d regret not preparing herself, no matter how turned on she was now—
“Oh, I have to do it,” she wailed, and with a soft whimper, she tossed the phone onto the bed in front of her, braced one hand against the comforter, spread her legs, and drove two fingers hard inside herself.
The cry that burst from her throat was nearly a scream.
“Anne! Oh God, are you—?”
She thrust up again, crooking her fingers frantically into what was so greedy, and fuck, she was wet, wetter than she thought she could get without help.
Slick enough that this didn’t hurt her yet, despite how fast and hard she was going, unable to slow down or do anything but chase that impact, over and over, nearly sobbing from how good it felt to fill herself up.
So good—Jesus, she couldn’t stand how good—and Sadie knew she was doing this; right now Sadie was lying in a bed grinding against her own hand while she listened to Anne fucking herself, Anne doing exactly what she’d been told because she’d listened so well.
“Gonna come,” she sobbed. “Gonna come so hard for you—!”
She did just that, clenching violently around her hand, knees giving a little while the shockwave convulsed through her body.
The hand pressed against her bed squeezed helplessly at the fabric, moving in a poor imitation of the fingers inside her, and maybe she’d black out or fall over but she didn’t care, she didn’t care about anything except chasing this feeling and getting it, having it, living inside it forever and ever and ever, this perfect miracle.
Anne came and came and came, her cries high and strangled as she worked herself to the finish.
On the other side of the phone, Sadie cried out, too, the sound loud and frenzied.
It wasn’t until the orgasm began to recede that Anne realized what she’d done. Her mouth was locked onto the top of her right arm, teeth clamped hard into her bicep.
With a gasp, she lifted her head. The light wasn’t on in her bedroom, but even so, in the dim glow streaming from the living room, she could see the half-moon bite marks she’d left behind.
Still breathing quickly, Anne pulled out her fingers, feeling her thin and sensitive skin protest. She’d fucked herself too hard not to feel it in the morning. Tomorrow she’d have to walk around with this undeniable proof inside her. She’d be sore. She’d have to tell Sadie why.
Before she had time to think better of it, Anne slipped one wet finger into her mouth and tasted herself for the first time. She closed her lips and sucked before the finger left her mouth with a soft pop.
Sharp and salty. Not bad at all.
Maybe good.
Impossibly, faint arousal licked at her again. She’d taste like this to Sadie.
The panting sounds on the other end of the line were slowing.
Anne pulled back her comforter, shaking, and sat down gingerly on the fitted sheet. “Sadie?” She picked up the phone. “Are you—?”
“Ah. I. Oh.” Sadie’s voice was molasses thick. “Yes. Came so hard, I might’ve time traveled. You?”
Adequate language failed Anne. She leaned back against her pillows. “Yes. Good. Also.”
For a little while, they didn’t talk. Anne listened to the rise and fall of Sadie’s breath, knowing Sadie was doing the same with her.
She thought about Sadie’s poem and realized that she understood it now. Language fails. What I tell you gets close to the feeling, never grasps the thing itself. Some experiences were too big, too raw, too beautiful to be captured by words.
Speak anyway, Sadie had written. Fail.
Anne did. “I’m counting the hours until tomorrow,” she whispered. “The minutes.”
“My sweet girl,” Sadie said quietly. “The seconds.”
Every bit of Anne was a tender hollow, scooped out and hot and learning how it wanted to be inhabited.
There was more than one kind of need and more than one kind of emptiness. Needing a lung to grow around the air you’d been promised, or the aching cavity of a future waiting on one more person.