Chapter 11

Eleven

H enry

I dab my hand on the towel and dial her number as soon as I’m out of the shower.

She answers on the second ring. I put the phone on speaker and set it down on the bathroom counter, far away from my drips because I’m aware that I can behave like a water buffalo in the bathroom. As I wipe the condensation off the bathroom mirror with my hand, I see the smile breaking across my face. Her voice, just being connected to her, does that to me.

“That was quick,” she says.

“I’m fast in the shower.”

Leaning over while I drip all over my bathroom rug, I jut out my chin in the mirror and examine my stubble, wondering if she’d like me to leave it or shave it off.

“I take forever in the shower,” she says.

Thoughtlessly, I reply, “I only take my time when other people are in the shower with me.”

On the other end, I hear a small gasp and a giggle.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say, straightening up and running my hands through my hair, mentally kicking myself for making it sound like I’m some kind of dude who gets a lot of action.

She continues to laugh and I don’t know if I should feel relieved that she’s not upset at the mention of hypothetical shower partners, or if she’s nervous and filling the space with the beautiful sounds of her laughter. “I cannot possibly imagine more than one meaning to that statement, Henry.”

I bite my lip when she says my name. “Henry.” My buddies call me Hank. The way her voice changes from assertive to soft when my name comes out of her mouth does things to my body. It feels like a touch. Her touch. When she speaks my name, it is like soft fingers caressing my chest.

My body notes the distance between us, and the inexplicable pain surfaces again.

I’m so happy to be on the phone with her, but I need her closer. I need her here, in my house, in my shower, in my bed. I need her shoes in my mudroom, her snacks in my pantry, and her panties wrapped around my fist. More than anything I need her heart beating next to mine when I’m gripping her adorable ass in my bed.

“I meant to say,” I clarify, grabbing the towel from the rod and absently dabbing my chest with it, “that if you were here with me, I’d be taking my time in the shower. With you.”

That stops her nervous giggles in its tracks. She’s quiet for a moment while she lets it sink in. That’s OK. I told her before that I know what I want. That I like her and I want to be with her. No sense in holding back.

“Are we about to have phone sex, Henry?”

There’s my name in her mouth again. I love hearing her say it. I want to make her moan it. Cry it out. Scream it with pleasure. Use my name to beg for what she wants. I want her to sigh it while I hold and squeeze her breasts. I want her to say it with a whimper while I run my thumb over her nipple. I want her to rasp my name into my mouth while I slide my shaft into her warmth.

By the same token, I find myself curious about her. I want to ease into this relationship with her. I ask her to tell me more about herself while I saunter back to my room, still half wet from the shower, the partially used bath towel in my hand. I lie back on my bed, on top of my comforter, one hand on the phone, nearly crushing it into my ear just to hear her voice deeper inside of me. My other hand lies flat on my belly, my palm rubbing my tummy.

“What was your first board game you remember playing as a kid?”

She makes a cute grunting noise like she’s settling down under the covers. “Um, Chutes and Ladders, I think. You?”

“Candy Land,” I say. “Your turn.”

She asks me what my favorite cartoon was as a kid. I love that she’s fallen into off-beat questions with me, without accusing me of being weird or nerdy. “ Hey Arnold!, ” I say. “You?”

“ Tom and Jerry, ” she answers.

“Oh, the classics. I like that. OK. What are you wearing right now?”

She pauses. “A black teddy, garter belt, thigh-high lace stockings, and edible undies.”

My hand stops its rubbing as my fingers curl inside the hairs of my pleasure trail. “Whoa.”

“Just kidding,” she says.

“Yeah…yeah, I knew you were kidding,” I stammer.

“I’m wearing a concert tee I stole from Sarah’s dad and some granny panties.”

“Perfect,” I say.

“Shoot,” she says, and I sense she’s beating herself up. “I shouldn’t be talking about Sarah’s dad with you.”

I barely heard the part about the other guy because I was picturing those granny panties. More specifically, I was thinking about tearing off those granny panties. Huh. On second thought, granny panties probably would hurt if I tried to tear them off. They’re made out of cotton, probably sewn together with industrial strength thread.

“Look,” I say. “That guy is Sarah’s dad. If you and I are going to date, his name is going to come up. Hell, he might even be around someday for her, if he’s worth half a shit. And that’s OK with me. I can hold my own. So tell me more about this concert tee-shirt and why you swiped it. Do I need to worry about you swiping my clothes?”

She chuckles. “We went to a concert together to entertain some important client of his. I didn’t want to go at first because he’d pay zero attention to me whenever I had to go on outings like that with him. And he never once wanted to go out on client outings with me and my clients, probably because he was jealous whenever I was trying to woo a big investor.

“So anyway, the concert turned out to be fun. I was surprised at how much I liked the band. He bought himself and the client t-shirts, but he didn’t even like the music. On the way home, he complained about what a pain it is spending his free time entertaining big accounts. So when I left him, I decided he didn’t deserve the t-shirt and I took it.”

“You’re a stone-cold motherfucker,” I say.

“Hell yes. Don’t mess with me, Henry, I’ll stab a person with the same needle I use to crochet baby blankets.”

Oh my god, I think I might love this woman.

“That’s hot,” I say.

Another long pause follows while we listen to each other breathing. Finally, she takes a deep breath and says, “I lied about the panties.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not wearing any.”

I exhale roughly, cursing under my breath. “Damn, woman. What are you trying to do to me?”

“Turnabout is fair play. What about you? What are you wearing?”

I look down and confirm that I am still naked. “Nothing.”

“Stop it.”

“I said I had just stepped out of the shower when I called you. I’m still a little wet actually.”

“Hmm. What parts of you are still wet?”

I smile. “I think I forgot to dry behind my ears.”

“Interesting. That’s where I was thinking about kissing you. That’s the spot that turned red after you kissed me in the barn. What else is still wet, Henry?”

I run my hand over my chest and up to the cords in my throat. “My neck.”

She sighs. “My favorite part to kiss.”

“You’re an excellent kisser. I know those lips would feel so fucking good on my neck.”

“What about your shoulders?”

“Shoulders? Still wet and needing some attention. The water is dripping all over my sheets. Will you catch the drips with your tongue?”

“Hmm. Yes. And your chest?”

“Soaked,” I say, sliding my hand slowly up and back down over my front. “What are you going to do about it?”

Her breath catches. “This is getting me pretty hot. I’m thinking very dirty thoughts right now, Henry. Can you handle it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I don’t want to shock you,” she says.

“Sweetheart, you’ve got nothing on the filthy things I’ve been thinking about when I’m around you.”

She takes a deep breath. “OK. Well, when I’m done licking off all the wetness from your throat and shoulders, I’m going to straddle your chest. I’m going to ride it. It’s…it’s a thing I like to do. Is that weird?”

Oh. My. God. I might have to marry this woman.

“Are you going to ride me hard, Jane?”

“Yes,” she says, her voice trembling.

“Are you saying you’re gonna ride me with your pussy?”

“You know what I meant.”

“I want to hear my girl say it.”

“Shit. Yes, I’m gonna ride your great big chest with my pussy.”

My voice matches her trembling when I say, “Are you going to take a hard ride on my chest, squeeze me with your thighs, and cover me with your juice?”

“Mhmm,” she hums. “Ride your chest while you grab my ass and make me go as fast or slow as you want.”

“Mm, I like it slow. I like that pussy grinding on my chest slow and hard. Leave your scent all over me.”

My hand rubs lower and I wrap my hand around my shaft. “I’m touching myself now, Jane. What do you want me to do with this cock?”

She gasps. “What do you want to do with it?”

“No, you have control. You’ll be in my bed soon enough and I’ll tell you what I want. For now, you tell me what you want me to do with this dick in my hand.”

Her rasping voice moans softly. “I want you to tell me how hard it is.”

I smile. I can’t believe all this smut was just there in her sexy mind this whole time, waiting to come out. I love this so much. “It’s so fucking hard, baby. Just for you. Hard and red and throbbing. I knew I was going to be getting myself off as soon as I kissed you goodnight because you drive me crazy.”

“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.