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“To bake a million cookies,” he says and the way he says it makes me smile for some reason.
“There wasn’t a million of them,” I argue, but I do it still smiling because I did make a double batch—which means there was at least fifty of them and all in their ooey-gooey glory.
“You baked a lot, Rory.”
“I enjoy baking. Did you like them?”
“They were the bomb. That’s what Ryan said.”
That makes me giggle.
“I’m glad,” I whisper, stretching in the bed, feeling sleep close by. Hearing Noah’s voice makes me warm… it’s like a drug.
“You’re in bed,” he says, his voice dropping down into this deep timbre that makes my body come alive.
“It’s late.”
“You didn’t let me hear you,” he says and I bite my lip.
“Noah—”
“Do you sleep naked, Rory?” he asks, his wicked question causing anticipation to run through me.
“Noah, I don’t think we should do this,” I caution.
“Don’t think, Gorgeous. We’re in separate rooms, what’s the harm in fantasizing?”
His question is worded so innocently, seducing me to say yes—even though I know it would be a mistake.
“I’m not sure…” I whisper, because I’m warring with myself.
“Are you naked, Rory?” he asks again.
“Yes,” I admit. I never used to, that’s something new. Something that I’ve done since the day that Noah came over and I discovered he was as lost as part of me still is.
“Fuck,” he groans and that makes me smile, because I know he likes it.
“Noah?”
“Yeah, Baby?” he asks, and that’s new. He’s never called me baby before and here in the dark, with nothing but my cover over me and his voice in my ear, I have to say I like it—really like it.
“I wish there wasn’t a wall between us.”
I swallow hard after I say the words. He won’t realize I’m not talking about a literal wall. He won’t even begin to realize how much I want to touch more than just his body. I can’t explain it and I really want to run away but I’m losing the battle. I was losing the battle to stay away from him before he called and now that he has…
I’m caving fast.
“Fuck, Baby,” he growls. “Me too.”
“I should let you go,” I tell him, suddenly sad and I don’t want him to hear it in my voice.
“Not yet, Gorgeous. First, you’re going to do me a favor.”
“I am?” I ask.
“I need you to slide your hand down between your legs, Baby.”
“Noah, I don’t think—”
“Do it now, Rory,” he orders, his voice still soft, but now commanding as well. He wants me to do this and he’s not going to stop until I do. His dominating presence somehow fills the room even if I can only hear him through the phone.
I am blushing. I know I am. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve never wanted to. Still, Noah wants this and because it’s him… I want it too.
“Okay…” I whisper as I awkwardly put my hand against my center.
“Cup that sweet pussy for me, Rory. Hold yourself and tell me what you feel.”
“Feel?” I ask, my voice so quiet that I wonder if he can hear me. I feel unsure and more than a little nervous.
“Yeah, Gorgeous. Tell me. Are the lips of your pussy smooth? Can you feel soft hair on them? Tell me.”
“Sm… smooth.”
“You shave, Rory?”
“Yeah…”
“What else? Tell me more,” he urges and I fight my nerves.
I’m almost afraid to answer. What if I get this wrong? What if I turn him off?
What if by doing this, I lose my shot at trying to fix his brokenness?
Most importantly… What if I’m fooling myself that I even can?
I push away all of my questions. I can only be myself around Noah. He’ll have to decide if he likes that or not. I can’t pretend to be something I’m not. With that in mind, I give in. The bottom line is that I want this. I want more of whatever Noah will give me. I’ll deal with the consequences later.
“I’m… I’m… it’s warm, Noah… heated… and I’m wet.”
“Fuck, Baby,” he moans in my ear and God, that sounds good. “How wet?”
“It’s… it’s covering my fingers,” I whisper and hear him inhale deeply.
“Slide your fingers between the lips of your pussy for me, Rory. Find your clit.”
I move so my heels dig into the mattress and spread my legs wider. Then, I do as he asks. I wasn’t lying. I’m so wet, I can feel my juices sliding over my fingers and even painting the insides of my thighs. My vibrator has been my best friend forever, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet. I seek out my clit that is throbbing so hard it’s almost painful. I hold my index finger and two others—each pressed against the other—and move them over my clit, slowly. I don’t even try to stop the moan that slowly rolls through me.
