Sawyer (Carolina Reapers 2)

“You’re sure?”

“He always is. Never gets back until a couple of hours before we have to be on the bus.”

“That’s lucky.”

“Why?”

“Where are you at, Sawyer?”

“I’m in Detroit. You know that.”

“No, Sawyer. Where are you at right this moment?”

A shuffling happened in the background, and I could almost picture him sinking onto his bed.

“Laying down.”

“Are the lights on?”

“No, why?”

“Turn them on.”

“You’re very demanding.”

“You love it.”

A click sounded. “Lights on.”

“Good,” I said, my free hand gripping the edge of the tub. “Shirt off?”

“Already done.”

“Shorts?”

“Nothing but my boxer briefs.”

I sighed at the mental image that burned itself in my mind. “Take those off, too.”

“Echo?”

“It’s only fair,” I cooed. “I’m naked too.”

“Done,” he said, his breath hitching as he moved to do as I said.

“You know what I’d do to you if I was there?” I asked.

“What’s that?”

“I’d trail my hands over your chest, down those lickable abs, and lower.”

“Mmm,” he mumbled. “Then what?”

“Then I’d gently grab that beautiful cock of yours and stroke and tease you until you were like velvet granite in my hand.”

“Damn,” he said, his tone pure growl.

“Do you feel me there, Sawyer?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered.

I bit my lip, drunk on the power of having this effect on him even miles apart.

“Echo,” he said. “Do me a favor?”

“What’s that?” I whispered.

“Touch those perfect breasts. Tell me how they feel.”

I released the tub with my free hand and grazed my fingers over my pert nipples. “Heavy, tight.”

“Yes,” he sighed. “Tell me how wet you are.”

My toes curled at the primal demand in his voice, and I trailed my hand lower. “I’m in the tub, so everything is wet,” I teased.

“You know the difference,” he said, his voice strained.

“Let’s see,” I said, slipping my fingers lower until I slid right where I wanted him. “Drenched, Sawyer.”

“Goddamn,” he growled.

“I’d grip you tighter, now,” I said. “And faster.”

“I’d sink so deep into you,” he answered. “And you’d arch against me to take me even deeper.”

“Yeah?” I said, arching as I did as he said, sliding into myself with a gasp.

“I’d slip in and out, over and over, until you were blind with need.” His voice was pure lust, pure desire as he spoke.

“And I’d clench around you like a vise,” I said, my breaths coming in short bursts.

“Damn, Echo,” he said. “I’d slid out just enough to tease your clit, just to watch you writhe beneath me.”

My fingers mimicked his words, my muscles coiling like a spring as I easily saw the image on the backs of my eyelids. Sawyer, his glorious body, those hauntingly beautiful gray eyes above me. His body playing mine like a mastered instrument.

“God, Sawyer,” I said, unable to hide the breathlessness in my words. “I’d hold you with my hips,” I said, never ceasing the movement of my fingers that I pictured as his. “I’d keep you right at the edge, not letting you fully in despite you trying. I’d repay your tease full force, only letting the tip of you touch me.”

“Goddamn.”

“Then,” I continued, plunging deeper into myself, feeling that tightening in my core. “Just when you were mad with want. Just when you couldn’t think or feel anything but wanting me. Needing me. Just when you were begging to get in,” I moaned, “would I let you slam home.” My body shuddered as I pressed against that spot I desperately wished was in Sawyer’s mouth. “And I’d want you to come, Sawyer. I’d want you to come so hard you’d send me into another orgasm. Until my voice was raw from screaming your name.

“Fuck me,” Sawyer moaned at the same time I gasped his name. “Fucking hell, Echo,” he said, his breath ragged.

“Sawyer,” I said, just because I could. I leaned against the tub, fully, totally relaxed now.

“You’re amazing,” he said.

I smiled, sighing. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Damn,” he said, and I laughed.

“You should buy Cannon breakfast in the morning,” I said.

“What? Why?”

“As a thank you for leaving the room empty.”

Sawyer chuckled. “Fine, I will on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t ever say another man’s name after we just came together.”

Just like that, I wanted him again. The primal tenor in his voice did everything to make my skin feel electrified, ready to spark at the lightest touch.

“Sweet dreams, Sawyer,” I said.

“I’ll dream up something devious to do to you when I get back.”

I trembled at the promise in his tone.

“Make it good,” I said, then ended the call, setting my cell back on the table.

Playlist forgotten, I soaked in the tub for a few more minutes before feeling my body giving into the perfect combination of relaxed and sated. And as I fell, dry and warm onto my sheets, I realized it didn’t matter that Sawyer had infuriated me by leaving me a key this morning, I’d address that the next time I saw him in person. And it didn’t matter how many miles separated us. I’d wanted him. Wanted him so badly I couldn’t have a normal conversation before I jumped him through the phone.