“The topic?”
“First times,” I mutter, unamused.
“As in . . .”
“Yeah.”
Aubree makes a breathless sound. “Oh, interesting. The girls might have done the same thing to me.”
I chuckle. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope. They ambushed me at Justin and Elise’s place and started sharing details that I had absolutely no interest in learning.”
My brows push together. Sounds familiar. “Why is everyone so obsessed with this?”
I hope she doesn’t answer that question, because the topic of why my P hasn’t been inside her V isn’t one that’s easily understood. It’s like solving a complex mathematical equation. These things take time. Although, it’s something that’s been on my mind a lot lately.
“No clue,” she says with a chuckle, saving me from some real embarrassment.
“Maybe we’re not ready for primetime, but what about something a little more technology friendly?” I ask, my voice low.
“Phone sex?” Aubree murmurs, her voice lifting.
“I’m down if you are,” I say, but all I can hear is her shallow breathing, and not much more. Maybe I’ve spooked her or pressed too hard.
“It’s just . . . how would we even start?” she whispers.
I flip the lock on the bathroom door and lean one hip against the marble counter.
I could start by telling her I’m horny as fuck right now and trapped in a barn-turned-house with four other dudes. But somehow I don’t think that would set the mood I’m going for. That mood being—how to get her fingers in her pussy so I can hear her moaning.
“Well . . .” I hesitate for just a second. “I could start by telling you that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that day in my apartment when I went down on you. You tasted so fucking good.”
There’s a sharp inhale of breath. “Are you alone right now?”
“Of course,” I murmur. “I’m alone, and my dick is getting hard for you.”
“Oh,” she says on a groan. “That’s a nice thought. Why don’t you take it out for me?”
I exhale, my breath coming faster. “I might be able to do that. Where are you? Alone too?”
“I’m in my bed. Under the covers.”
I draw down the zipper to my pants.
“Is that what I think it is?” she asks, slightly breathless.
“Maybe. First, slide your fingers under your shirt. Touch your perfect tits for me.”
“Mmm. Done.” She moans. “Tell me now.”
I almost chuckle at her impatience, but I don’t, because I wasn’t kidding when I said I was hard for her. It’s like all the blood in my body has been diverted to my sorely neglected dick.
“I’m taking my cock out. It’s so hard for you, Aubree. What should I do?”
“Stroke it,” she says.
“Wrapping it in my fist,” I rasp out. “Put your fingers in your panties, baby.”
“Already there,” she whispers. “I’m wet.”
A stuttered breath leaves my lungs, but I force the words out. “Good. Touch your clit for me while I jerk off.”
She groans again, saying my name like it’s a plea. I love that sound leaving her lips.
Fuck, who knew phone sex could be this amazing?
Blood races through my veins like wildfire, lighting up every nerve ending. The sound of her short, halting breaths through the phone is making me insane. If I weren’t an hour away, I’d drive over to her place right now and pound her into the wall.
“Landon, I’m close,” she says.
Hell yeah. My fist moves in short, efficient strokes, trying to get there with her.
Until a loud, unwelcome bang hits the door, and my heart almost stops. What the fuck?
“Wrap it up, Covey! I need to piss!” Asher calls through the door, totally killing the mood.
Fuck.
I tuck my still-erect dick back into my jeans and pinch the bridge of my nose, hissing out a shaky exhale. “Be out in a second!” I call.
“Oh no he’s not!” Aubree calls out to Asher, even though he can’t hear her. She’s not on speakerphone. Her moans and gasps were for my ears only.
“Shit, I’m sorry about this.” I rub one hand over my face.
A huge groan of frustration pours out of Aubree. “This is awful. Your teammates suck. I hate them.”
“I do too.” I chuckle. “But I’ll make it up to you when I get back. I promise.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” she says.
I grin, despite the massive case of blue balls I’m sure I’ll have later. “Please do.”
15
* * *
This or That
Aubree
“Cats or dogs?” I’m sitting at the kitchen table in Landon’s newly furnished apartment, twirling lo mein noodles around a set of chopsticks, and waiting for his answer to this obviously crucial, but very easy-to-answer question.
Our low-key evening started with a half-hour debate about what takeout to order and has turned into a full-on game of trying to agree on anything whatsoever. So far, Chinese food has been the only common ground we’ve found.
When Landon takes too long to answer, too preoccupied with his sweet-and-sour chicken, I repeat the question. “Cats or dogs? Come on, this is an easy one.”
“Dogs,” he says with a firm nod. “I like cats, but they’re kind of boring. I could see myself adopting a golden retriever someday. Maybe even two.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Two big dogs is way too much. Two cats, on the other hand, is totally doable. They’re so low maintenance.”
“Because they’re not any fun,” he says, pointing a chopstick at me before grappling with a piece of chicken. After a few hilarious seconds of fumbling, he tosses the chopsticks aside and grabs a fork. It’s oddly adorable. “I’ve got one. Chunky or smooth peanut butter? On three. One, two . . .”
At the same time, he says chunky and I say smooth.
Figures.
“I told you. We’re opposites on everything.” I reach across the table toward his plate of yummy-looking chicken, but he drags it away from my chopsticks.
“Why didn’t you just order your own?”
Unamused, I frown at him, and he gives in, sectioning off a portion of chicken and scooting it onto my plate.
“Chinese food is meant for sharing, especially with your wife,” I say with an eye roll. “I’ve never met anyone who just orders one thing and keeps it all to himself.”
“Well, now you have. There’s a first time for everything, right?” A smug grin tugs at his lips.
All bickering aside, there’s a certain first time I’m sure we can both agree has been on our minds. The thought of our first time has been burning a hole in the back of my mind, well, for weeks now, but especially since he opened the door tonight looking so deliciously masculine.
The scruff on his jawline is a little grown out from his weekend away with the guys, and his bright blue eyes twinkle with excitement to see me. Whether we make it to the bedroom this evening or not, I’ll be riding the high from that look in his eyes all night. There can’t be any drug quite like knowing the man who has been occupying all your thoughts has missed the shit out of you too. Even if he is a stupid dog person.