Rhys’s voice went mad low, and I could hear how close he was, see how hard he was as he pushed into his own hand at the sight of me laid out before him, doing whatever he said. I moaned his name over and over, begging for him to finish us off.
“I’m almost there, babe,” he growled. “I’m gonna shove into that hole and come inside you so hard you feel me tomorrow. Can you feel me?”
“Yes! Fuck, yes, I can, fuck.” I fucked myself harder, thighs, belly, ass all tensing with pleasure.
“Finish it, Matty. Let me see you come all over yourself with my dick inside you.”
Fuck! I jerked and thrust and tensed until the spark caught and I went off like a firecracker, shooting all over myself and collapsing on the bed. Through the haze of my orgasm, I heard Rhys’s low groan and watched him explode in his hand. A drop of come landed on his chin and I shuddered with an aftershock of lust.
“Fuuuck, babe,” he moaned.
“Mmm, happy birthday.”
I lay there for a few minutes, fucked-out and drifting, but I didn’t want to fall asleep and abandon Rhys.
“How’s you?” I murmured, a mush of How are you? and How’s tour? He smiled that warm smile I adored. The one that usually came with his arms around me and his lips at my neck so I could feel his breath as we snuggled together.
“I’m good. Tour’s good. Last night a guy I played with years ago, when I was just starting out, came backstage after the show. He said he was glad I finally went solo. That he’d always thought I should. It was nice to hear.”
I reached out to stroke Rhys’s cheek, but my hand just hit the computer screen.
“That’s good,” I said. “That’s great.”
“Sleep, baby. You look exhausted.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. I wanna keep talking to you.”
“I’ll talk you to sleep,” he said, voice gone low and soothing.
“Happy birthday,” I said again, nodding, and let my head loll to the pillow, let his words fall over me like sunlight.
* * *
—
I woke up on Saturday to a text from Theo inviting me to come to his and Caleb’s place in Stormville for the day. Then a second text that said, And before you beg off just know that if you don’t come over here I’m coming to your house anyway ;)
A third came through as I was reading the second: Then Caleb will know it’s really *him* you hate and a devil emoji.
Another, just after: Uh, you know that was a joke, right? Too soon?
Then dots indicating that Theo was typing, but no more messages were forthcoming. Which meant he was agonizing over whether he’d offended me or not. Which meant I had to answer.
Never too soon for Caleb to know I hate him, I joked in kind. Then had my own crisis of confidence and added, Also a joke.
Theo wrote, Caleb is [crying face emoji]. Come over and dry his tears! Then several vegetable emojis that seemed uncomfortably sexual until I realized he probably meant them in reference to their vegetable garden, which they were both obsessed with.
K, I wrote and dragged myself into the shower.
Rhys had left his truck for me, since I didn’t have a car and he would be driven around on tour. I’d only gotten a license when I moved out here so driving was still a novelty. Sure enough, Caleb and Theo were both in the garden when I pulled up, Caleb in ragged cutoff shorts and a concert T-shirt so faded I couldn’t read the band name. Theo wore what he always wore: skinny black jeans so molded to his body they were like a second skin. His once-white tank top was now yellowed with dirt and sweat.
I had a few minutes to watch them before they noticed me. They each worked silently, focused on their own corner of the land, but both glanced up every minute or so, as if they were unconsciously checking in to make sure the other was where they thought they were. It was an intimacy without word or touch, and it made me miss Rhys with an emptiness as gutting as hunger.
Theo grinned as I walked up and gave me an apologetically sweaty hug. They set me to pick ripe peppers and we worked in companionable silence as the sun beat down, drying all the moisture the night imbued, and heating my skin. I was as glad for the silence as I was for the company, and would’ve been happy to work in the dirt long after Caleb called it quits.
Inside, we had iced coffee and a hash of potatoes and vegetables with fried eggs on top, which was, Theo intimated with fond irritation, the only thing that Caleb could cook. They talked about what they were going to plant next, and Theo threatened to sign them up for a booth at the farmer’s market they went to on Saturday mornings.