“Never.” That answer is like a reflex, and I laugh.
“Oh yeah,” I say. “I told you, I want to know your fantasies.”
“But that’s so embarrassing,” she says, breath growing short.
“Baby,” I say, “you’re stroking your clit right now and I’m about to listen to you come in my ear. And I’m so close that I’m about to explode all over my sheets.”
“And?” she breathes.
“And after that, knowing what porn you like to watch seems tame.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I can hear her moan.
“You don’t have to tell me now,” I say. “But I want you to imagine it.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. Picture it. You and me in whatever dirty position you saw. Imagine me taking you just like that. Raw and dirty. You’re going to scream my name.”
“Oooooh.” The word is elongated, and I can’t see a damn thing anymore. I’m imagining us too. Imagining us in every position that’s fucking possible. I want to take her from behind in the kitchen while she holds on to the countertop. I want to have her ride me, and watch those perfect tits bounce up and down as she takes my cock until she’s screaming.
I want to have her on her knees with her lips wrapped around my shaft, and to spread her ass and take that first, as well. There’s a thousand different ways I want to take her, and they’re all playing through my mind, a list that I don’t think will ever end, even if we’re together for the rest of our lives.
“Shit,” she curses. “I’m so close.”
I move my hand faster, giving in to the pleasure that’s gathering in my shaft and spreading to my balls. “Imagine I’m there,” I instruct her, my voice hard. “Imagine that it’s my hand making you come.”
“Oh god,” her voice morphs into nothing but sound as her orgasm overtakes her. I’m right there with her, letting the pleasure spread and feeling lightning sprint down my spine. Light flashes behind my eyes and I curse loudly while I come, stroking myself through the pleasure.
It feels amazing. Even jerking off is better with Nicola, and one-hundred percent worth the mess. “You still there?” I ask when I’ve recovered enough to speak.
“Barely.”
I chuckle, stretching in that post-orgasm haze. “I want to see you. Let me take you to breakfast.”
“I’d like that. Besides, after everything, I forgot that my car is still at the office. So it would be good to pick that up.”
“I can be at your place in ten minutes.”
I can practically hear her smiling. “It’ll take me longer than that to get ready, but come over. We’ll just be quiet—my parents either sleep in or work in their offices upstairs on Saturday mornings.”
It seems like a risk, but at this point it’s one I’m willing to take. “I’ll be there soon.”
After I hang up, it only takes a minute or two for me to clean myself up and throw some clothes on. I’m thanking my past self for deciding to take a shower last night so that I can get out the door quickly.
Leighton City has always been sleepy early on Saturday mornings, and today is no exception. So there are almost no cars on the roads, and I barely have to think in order to get to the Thompsons’ house. I’ve been here so many times it’s practically like driving to my own house.
But it does feel strange coming here knowing that I’m going to be avoiding Bruce and Valerie. I push thoughts of them aside. Every time I’ve tried to imagine the conversation where I tell them about Nicola and me, I draw a blank because I have no idea what their reaction will be.
I park a block down the street, feeling a little paranoid. I don’t want either of them to look outside and see my car and wonder why I’m here. Especially if I don’t even say hello to them. I pull out my phone.
Is there a window that I should be sneaking through?
She texts me back right away.
Ha. The front door will be fine.
I walk up to the front door, but I don’t knock or ring the doorbell. A minute later I hear footsteps and the door opens to Nicola. She’s wearing short pajama shorts and my sweatshirt. She grins. “I was doing my make-up. Haven’t gotten dressed yet.”
It doesn’t matter that I’ve already come this morning, the sight of her in my hoodie and those infernal fucking shorts has me hard as a rock again. “That’s a good thing,” I say, “because I think I’m about to tear those shorts off you.”
Nicola looks behind her, and grabs my hand. “Come in. Not here.”
I know where Nicola’s room has always been. The Thompsons have lived in this house for as long as I’ve known them, so I’m surprised when she takes me to the basement stairs and closes the door behind us. “Why the basement?”