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“It’s hard, isn’t it?” she cuts in, and I know she doesn’t want me to finish my sentence.
She doesn’t want me to reference Graham.
“When I was overseas…,” I go on, getting the hint.
Even talking about Graham is painful. It brings to mind far too vividly all we’re risking just by speaking and not stamping on this feeling before it has a chance to grow.
But it’s already too late.
She knows she’s mine. I know I’m hers.
“I would think about what I’d do when I returned home. Sometimes, I’d think about a family. I’d think about a wife and kids. But I could never make myself feel anything, Hallie. I’d lie there and wonder if it was even possible for me to feel that deeply. Then I saw you. Then we kissed.”
“We didn’t just kiss,” she whispers in a breathy voice.
“Hallie….”
“What?” she says.
There’s a challenge in her voice. I imagine her telling me to stop or try to like that’s even an option.
We should stop, I try to say, but I can’t.
“I want you so badly,” I tell her, my voice husky with desire.
“Do you?” she whispers, her voice even breathier, and I just know my woman is sliding her hand down her body toward her hot, slick core.
“Yes,” I snarl. “I want to drive over there right this second. Meet you in the car, then take you to the closest luxury hotel. I won’t let you think about anything else.”
About Graham.
“Not as I tear your clothes off,” I go on, voice trembling. “I’ll push you onto the silk sheets, onto your back, and then kneel down and go between your thick beautiful thighs. As I lick your soaked pussy, you’d get even wetter than usual, getting ready for my cock…Because you know now, Hallie. You know what you have to do for me.”
“Give you…a…baby,” she murmurs.
“Yes,” I growl, standing and returning to the bedroom. “Are you touching yourself for me?”
“Hmm,” she moans. “I can’t help it.”
“Describe what you’re doing,” I demand.
Sitting on the bed, my hand goes to my manhood, so hard I can feel my solid shaft sticking to my underwear with precome.
I’m hardly able to think, everything rushing urgently as I stroke my hand up and down the outside of my pants.
But it doesn’t feel right.
“I’m lying in bed,” she whispers.
“What are you wearing?”
“The same PJ shorts I was wearing that first night, actually.”
That has me almost roaring. I remove my hand from my cock, taking a breath, for a moment.
“My pussy is really wet, Hayden,” she whispers, as though pushing past her shyness.
“Are you rubbing your clit or playing with your keen-as-fuck hole?”
“My clit,” she murmurs. “It’s getting all…ah…tingly.”
“I’m going to suck your clit,” I snarl. “When I’m between your legs, I’ll suck it hard and then push my tongue against it. It would be so fucking hot for you, Hallie, physically. My mouth pushed against you, and all your tasty juices creaming all over my lips.”
Think of Graham, I tell myself, as I put my phone on loudspeaker and begin to get changed.
This is a mistake.
I should warn her.
Then she might say no.
Or, during the conversation, I’ll come to my senses.
But right now, I don’t care about anybody else. The consequences don’t matter.
Just my woman.
Forever.
“Hayden,” she whimpers softly. “Hayden…”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Hallie
“I want you to really feel my hands on your legs,” he snarls, his voice shaking as my hand moves quickly against my clit, over my folds.
I don’t care, only knowing I need to keep my hand moving to chase the pleasure.
This break was even more difficult than last time since I knew how badly he wanted me now…as badly as I wanted him.
Last time, I could console myself with the fact – the lie – he could never feel the same.
But these past three days have truly been unbearable, yet I somehow managed it.
I deleted every text I composed for him and canceled every call I made.
I’m not sure how except it’s all-or-nothing with us.
If we talk, we can’t stop.
But if we don’t, we suffer. We hate it. We long for each other.
But we can do it.
Perhaps that should make me feel guilty as he goes on, “And then I’d start fingering your sopping hole, Hallie, with so much passion your horny young pussy would start talking to me, singing for me.”
“Yes, yes,” I moan, moving my fingers quicker. “Are you….”
“No,” he says firmly. “I’m not touching myself. I don’t want to waste a single drop of my seed. It belongs in you, every single drop.”
“Should I…stop?” I murmur.
“No,” he growls. “I need to hear you moan. I need to hear you cream for me.”
My moans are quieter this time, though mom’s at work.
Lila’s still in the house, so I make sure to contain my pleasure or as much of it as I’m able to. I open my mouth and let him hear the breathy euphoria his words, or just his voice gives me.
