“Pump it for me, just once,” she says.
I do, once, firmly. A moan falls from my lips. She moans in return. “I’m cupping my pussy, wishing it was you touching me.”
“May I stroke it?”
She moans a yes.
We continue this way, egging each other on. I stroke it again and again until I can feel precum at the tip.
“I’m so close, I can see my precum, baby. But I’m not going to touch it. Because it’s all for you.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and I can hear the rhythm of her pleasuring herself. “I wish I was there now, riding your chest, reaching back and holding your dick, stroking it. I wish it was your fingers stroking my clit. You’ve been driving me crazy since you took off your shirt today.”
The thought of her touching herself while thinking of me nearly makes me explode. The thought of her being driven to distraction by looking at my mediocre body in the pumpkin patch is beyond hot.
I close my eyes and stroke up the underside of my shaft, spurring on my arousal, trying to match mine with hers.
“I can’t wait to touch you. Taste you. Bring you all the way to the end with my hands, my mouth, my dick.”
Her breath hitches and she whispers, trying to be quiet. “Henry, I need you. I need you between my legs.”
“Soon. Real soon.”
My hips rise up off the mattress, my mind barely fooling myself that her body is wrapped around me. The imagery combined with the frustration that she’s not here is bringing me to the breaking point.
I feel a tingle in my lower back. “Fuck, honey. I’m about to…”
“Me too.”
I release a growl and blurt out, “That clit, that pussy is mine. Mine. I need it, I want it. I’m going to take it. So hard. It’s mine. Mine. Mine.”
On the third time I say “mine,” Jane cries out. “Oh my god!” But she does it with a squeak, and I know she’s trying so hard not to wake the baby.
The visual of her touching herself and biting down on her lip sends my release slamming through me. I come all over my stomach with a roar. “Fuck! Shit! Jane, why aren’t you here with me? Fuck!”
Neither of us says anything coherent for the next few moments, just a lot of heavy breathing, moaning, whimpering, and eventually tired laughter.
“That was fun,” she says.
“No, Jane. It was frustrating. You’re not here with me. I’m not going to get what I need until you’re in my bed.”
The silence that follows tortures me. I roll over on my side, using my fluffy towel to clean myself, wishing I was using it to gently wipe her down instead.
“You’re right,” she breathes. “Still. I had so much fun with you tonight. Eating dinner, watching you play with Sarah, making out a little, and the dirty talk. But you’re right about me. It’ll be that much better in person.”
Damn. Nothing sexier than a confident woman.
I try not to count myself lucky until I’m in a solid, defined relationship with her, but it’s settled in my mind already. I’m hers. She’s mine. We’re a pair.
I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.
Chapter Twelve
Jane
On the way to work the next day, I’m worried things will be awkward. We got pretty carried away last night.
But Henry puts me at ease right away. He’s waiting for me in the driveway with a huge fountain cup of Diet Coke and a deep, day-making kiss.
We hop into his truck together to run all the errands for the finishing touches on his business.
I sip my beverage and wait for him to break the silence. I’m grateful that he provided me something to drink to occupy me. I don’t know if it was deliberate.
“So, last night,” he says.
Instantly my face heats. Oh crap, he’s going to tell me it was a little over the top. He’s going to tell me that my needs are weird and too much for him. Or worse, he’s going to tell me that it was too vanilla, what I’m thinking about. Or worst of all, he’s going to tell me that I’ve been leading him on. That I’m a cock tease, getting him all riled up at my apartment only to send him home to pleasure himself.
Henry says none of those things. Rather, he takes my breath away with his sweet words.
“I don’t know how you’re feeling this morning, but I’m feeling really good about things. Last night was really special. I’ve never done that before, with anyone. I mean, of course, I’ve masturbated, but not with anyone listening. I liked it.”
“I…liked it too.” My mouth is dry and I take a huge sip of my drink. I’m still waiting for the “but.”
“So I want you to know whatever negative things you might be feeling right now about last night—Regret. Maybe a little embarrassment. Self-consciousness—don’t. It was cool and I loved it.”
I bite my straw. Am I really doing this thing? I am. I’m going to have sex with my boss. My body needs this, and my brain finally has agreed to give my body what it wants. Hell, a great orgasm is good for the brain, too.
He continues. “And I’m not going to keep us a secret or anything. I’m all in. OK? I meant what I said last night. I don’t normally behave like this. I’m not the kind of guy who comes on that strong, but something feels terrible when we’re not together. I like this. I like you. So as corny as it sounds, I gotta ask you. Are you my girl? ‘Cause I wanna be your guy.”
I bite the straw harder and
