“I’m dripping.” My voice is low and sultry and matches exactly how my body is feeling.
“Grab the vibrator and turn it to the lowest setting.”
Reluctantly, I take my hand off my tit and grab the pink vibrator and it buzzes in my hand.
“Lightly place it on your clit.”
It tingles, and I clench, loving the arousal coursing through my blood.
“Close your eyes baby and finger yourself. Imagine those are my fingers.”
My back arches and I buck into the vibrator needing more. “I need you,” I pant, and he chuckles.
“No, you don’t. Up the intensity.”
The vibrating along my clit has me on the brink and I squirm around the sheets trying to find a release that’s still too far away.
“Better?” he asks in a low voice.
“No, I need your dick. Come over now.”
“I appreciate the compliment and I wish it was your pussy wrapped around my cock instead of my hand, but your groans and moans are going to be what makes me come tonight.”
We’re both quiet for a moment, each enjoying our own pleasure and the sounds the other is making.
“Go ahead and slide that hand under your nightie and grab your tits again, play with your nipples.”
When my hand cups my breast and my finger runs over my nipple, I actually believe it could be his hand.
“Better?” he asks.
I release a strangled groan. I’m about two seconds away from coming. My hips rise off the mattress as if he’s really here on top of me.
“God, yes,” I moan.
“I appreciate the reference. Now drop the vibrator.”
“No!” I screech, just one more level up and I’m there.
“Chelsea, drop it,” he orders.
“Why?” I whine.
He chuckles. “Because I’m about to be inside of you.”
The vibrator drops between my legs and I sit up. “Are you here?”
Sweet Jesus tell me he’s surprised me like that night months ago. I don’t need the donuts and Mickey D’s. Just his dick and his hands and his mouth. Okay, and his arms to hold me close afterward.
“No.”
My body flops back down to the mattress. “You got me all excited.”
“Sorry.” He chuckles. “Put two fingers inside that soaked pussy and play with yourself exactly how you do when you’re thinking of me.”
I roll my eyes but does as he says and my body sinks into the mattress once more, content that I’m about to fall off the ledge at any moment.
“Do it like you normally do, Chelsea. You can get yourself off, and I want to hear exactly how it sounds when you do.”
I do as instructed, playing with my clit and then putting my fingers back in. Moans fall from my lips and my breathing rushes and then slows.
“I’m so fucking hard,” Dean grates out and I can tell he’s trying to hold back.
“I’m so fucking wet.”
“I wish I could grab you and plow into you right now.”
“I wish your fingers could dig into my hips and you ram in and out of me.”
Our breathing labors over the line and if it wasn’t for the headphones, I would’ve dropped the phone.
“Next time, I promise baby.”
“Oh, Dean, it’s coming.”
“Don’t fight it.”
My mind blanks and sails over the finish line with a cry out of his name as my body pulses with pleasure. Afterward, my hand falls from between my legs as I lay limp on the mattress, tired and sated.
“Fuck baby, that noise you make.”
And then I hear nothing except some panting and grunting as he finishes himself off. I don’t look at a clock, but it isn’t until we’re both breathing even again that one of us cuts the silence.
“Don’t take this the wrong way. I love having sex with you any way I can get it, but I really wish you were next to me right now,” he says.
A smile comes to my lips. “To snuggle?”
“To lick up my cum, but I guess to snuggle, too.”
“If you were in front of me, I’d punch you in the gut.”
He laughs. Not the steamy rougher chuckle from before. This time it’s his honest and true laugh.
“I gotta clean myself up.”
“I don’t want to hang up,” I say.
“Me either, but you need your sleep. Sweet dreams, Chelsea.”
“Good night.”
“Love you,” he whispers.
“Love you.”
The line dies, and I pull the earplugs out of my ears and roll to my side, wishing the other side of my bed wasn’t empty.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next day at three o’clock on the dot, I sit in a waiting room filling out papers with pregnant women all around me.
Some are glowing, and some look like they could murder someone. Others are trying to control their young kids and some are rubbing their stomachs smiling at nothing.
Shaking my head, I concentrate on my family history. Why do I have to fill this out every year? I answer the yes and no questions to every disease imaginable, sign the privacy form and put my insurance card on the clipboard.
The receptionist handles everything and gives me back my insurance card, leaving me again in a waiting room.
“Did you just find out?” The woman with a swollen belly glances at my flat stomach.
I stare down at it to make sure it’s actually not showing a bump. I had a big lunch but other than that I’d bet the largest casino’s vault I’m not pregnant.
“Oh, no, I’m not pregnant.”
She smiles and waves me off. “I always forget that women don’t only come to an OB because they’re pregnant. Are you trying? I hope I didn’t offend or upset you.”
I smile although it’s not genuine because if I were trying, I wouldn’t discuss it with a stranger. A stranger who is pregnant. “I’m not trying either.”
“Oh.” Her eyes fall over me, taking in my dress and heels.
Digging my phone out of my purse, I decide to lose myself in anything but conversation with this lady. I’m not sure if she thinks I’m some woman who never wants to have kids or what, but frankly, it’s none of her business. I don’t even talk about this stuff with the people I’m closest to.
Women come and go and I look at the clock on my phone. A half hour since my scheduled appointment.
Finally, my name is called by a nice nurse with red hair pinned into a bun. We do the whole dreaded weighing and blood pressure routine. Once I’m in the exam room, I explain my problem. She smiles nicely and leaves the room.
Twenty minutes later, my panties are hidden under my dress folded up on a chair with my shoes neatly tucked underneath. The paper gown scratches my skin as I double check I’m not flashing my ass. Not that it should matter, I’m going to spread-eagle any minute.
Would it kill them to turn down the air conditioning in here? I have goose bumps all over my body now.
A knock sounds on the door.
“Come in.”
“Miss Walsh, I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.” My doctor, a woman in her forties or so walks in wearing scrubs. “I apologize for the wait, but I just got back from delivery.”