52. Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Two

Toby

" M ac brought up Ma's cookies today," I say to the phone wedged between my ear and shoulder, munching on said cookies. "They're so fucking good." I chew and swallow the mouthful muffling my words. "He totally traded them like it was a drop and security got pissed." Snorting, I pop another one between my lips and seal the baggie up. "They only found one, so I get to keep this one."

Tossing the plastic bag onto the desk, I settle against the far wall with an arm across the headboard, my legs stretched out across the mattress.

"We're gonna see how long this thing goes before it cuts me off. Sound good to you, Mama?"

I know I'm talking to her inbox like she's going to respond, but whatever.

It makes me feel better to talk to her. Even if she's not there.

"I think there's something going on with our drummer. He was normal but totally not. The bags under his eyes were dead giveaways. What do you think? Have you seen him recently?"

I roll an errant crumb between my finger and thumb.

"I guess he'll say something eventually. He's always been better than me at a lot of shit like telling the people he cares about that he cares about them. Doc says I need to try it out more."

I clear my throat and toss the crumb into the trashcan beside the desk. It's dark in here, so I'm not quite sure if it makes it or not.

"Anna," I almost whisper into the receiver, my voice more gravel than I intend. "God, I wish you were fucking here with me." My eyes slide closed and the memory of her ocean scent fills my nose. "Wish I could see your beautiful face. Touch your soft skin …"

A soft sound escapes me, and I bite my lip.

"Tell me I'm ridiculous for still wanting you, Mama." My hand slides down my ribs, my fingertips teasing the waistband of my shorts. "I'm crazy, I know it."

The same shorts I was wearing the night she gave me head for the first time and started this whole situation .

"Wanting those plump lips wrapped around my—" I cup my stiff dick over the material, squeezing, humming. "Fuck, I need time to move faster." I grunt against the pressure of my hand, my breath coming in ragged puffs. "Three weeks," I breathe and shove my hand beneath the material. "Six days." Groaning, I stroke up and down my shaft. "Four hours."

It's been too long. My balls are already aching, my abs clenching with the idea that Anna might actually listen to this message and it might make her as hot as it's making me.

"Thirty-nine— unnng— minutes."

There's no stopping this train wreck of a voicemail or the orgasm that's barreling through my system.

"Anna," I breathe out, stroking my dick faster. "I'm gonna fucking come. I'm gonna—"

" If you'd like to delete this message, please press one. Or, hang up ."

"Fuck!"

My cum paints my chest and the tops of my thighs, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

Did I just come on voicemail?

With a trembling limb, I lift the phone from the side of my head and stare at the screen, the little voice reminding me to delete the message or end the call.

I shudder with an aftershock and hang up.