“Since you won’t come over,” I whisper, “tell me what you’d do if you were here.”
If I can’t have him in my bed, his hands on my body, I’ll settle for his words. I know he has a filthy mouth and I need him to carry me over the edge.
Tyler’s strokes quicken, his forearms flexing and a muscle in his jaw ticks. “I’d lay you on the bed, spread you out for my eyes like a fucking voyeur. We’d go slow, my mouth on your inner thigh, kissing a path to that pussy I’ve been dreaming about.”
Increasing my pressure, I release a soft moan. But I know I won’t come like this, and oh, how I desperately need to come. From the drawer of my nightstand, I pull out my tiny bullet vibrator, twisting the end until it vibrates in my hand.
Tyler’s eyes heat when he hears it and his breaths become labored.
“And then?” I whisper, desperate for his words. My hips roll as the vibration hits the right spot. I can already feel my climax blooming inside me.
“Once I’ve had my fill of tasting you, I’d flip you over, pull you onto your knees. Grip your hips and slide into you from behind, so deep you’ll still feel it when it’s over. Hard enough that we both forget our own names.” Tyler pauses. “I’m close. I need you to come with me.”
“Yes, yes,” I gasp, the gathering tension close to snapping.
Tyler’s eyes slam shut and ropes of white cum hit his stomach as my release shatters through me so hard my legs tremble. My hand falls to my side, chest heaving.
For a prolonged second, we’re quiet, just breathing together.
Tyler’s gaze finds mine through the light of my phone screen, and one side of his mouth hooks up.
“I miss you, love.”
“I miss you, too,” I whisper. “Come over tomorrow for dinner?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Tyler?” a young girl’s voice sounds through my phone. “We need your help.”
It takes me a second to realize who’s speaking. “Abs?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” comes her tearful response. “Something’s wrong with Mom. She asked for you. I got your number from her phone. But she’s so sick. I’m scared. She almost passed out in the kitchen.”
“I’m on my way. Give me five minutes and I’ll be there.”
All week I’ve noticed Jo was sluggish and tired. Last night she even let the kids have cereal for dinner, told me to stay home, and went to bed early. Was she sick this whole time and I missed it? Granted, I’m no doctor, but I should have picked up on her not feeling well.
When I get to Jo’s, the door is unlocked and I let myself in. Abby’s eyes are puffy from crying, and even Jay sits quiet on the couch, knees drawn to his chest.
“Where’s your mom?” I hurriedly ask.
Abby points to Jo’s room, and I take off, opening her door as quietly as I can in case she’s sleeping.
The room is dark, lit only by the soft yellow glow of thebedside lamp. Jo is curled up in the middle of her bed beneath a mountain of blankets, hair stuck to her forehead, skin pale with a sheen of sweat with Smudge tucked into her side. A pile of used tissues lies scattered around her. When I get closer, I hear the rasp of her breathing, and see that the skin under her nose is raw and red.
Although I try to be quiet, she stirs, her eyes fluttering open. They’re glassy and unfocused.
“Tyler?” Her voice is barely audible, exhausted, like even speaking costs too much energy.
“I’m here,” I say softly, dropping to my knees at her bedside. “I’m right here, Jo.”
She tries to sit up, but I brace a hand on her shoulder to gently guide her back down.
“Don’t go,” she mumbles, her head lolling onto her pillow.
“I’m not going anywhere.” I brush a strand of damp hair from where it’s stuck to her cheek. “You’re burning up, Jo. Jesus.”
“I tried…” She stops to take a breath, her voice so faint I have to lean in to hear her. “Tried to make dinner. The kitchen started spinning and…”
