“I’m not sure,” I tell her once the waiter is gone.
Evie smirks, then polishes off the rest of her martini in one swallow. Lucky for her she ordered another one from the newly besotted waiter. “You’re just under his sex spell. Give it some time and distance, and you’ll come to your senses.”
Hmm. She could be right. He did cast a sex spell over me, one that I was fully committed to. I still cannot believe some of the things we did together. I’ve never been so daring or adventurous in bed. Ever. Not even with Colin.
“He’s better than Colin,” I admit. “I know that.”
“Let’s be real, Susanna. Everyone you dated after him was better than Colin. He was an overly enthusiastic eighteen-year-old boy who gave you your first orgasms, so of course you thought he was the most amazing thing to ever happen to you.” Evie shakes her head. “Did you ever talk to this man? Like have real conversations?”
“Actually, we talked quite a bit. About all sorts of things.” When we weren’t desperate for each other, we did have great conversations. I’m not only attracted to Cannon, I really like him, and that says a lot.
Most of the men from my not-so-distant dating past, I didn’t know what to think about. We usually had nothing in common, or zero chemistry, or they were dreadfully boring. Or pompous asses. Anyone my mother tried to set me up with, well…it always ended up a complete failure.
She has different expectations from me than I have from myself, that much is clear.
“Do you think your parents will like him?” Evie asks.
“My father met him.” For all of about a minute. “He seemed quite taken with him.” Quite taken with his enormous size.
Evie makes that hmm face she often does when she has to concede that what I’m telling her isn’t a load of rubbish. Though I kind of am telling a bunch of lies. Not that I’ll ever admit it. “That’s a positive sign. Maybe he could convince your mother that Cannon Whittaker is good match for you.”
I wouldn’t go that far. “Perhaps. Though they really didn’t talk as much as I wish they had.”
“Oh, that’s concerning then.” Evie reaches across the table and rests her hand on top of mine. “I’m happy for you, I really am. And if I’m being too negative, it’s only because I’m trying to watch out for you. I don’t want this man to hurt you.”
“I know,” I murmur, hanging my head once more. “You have my best interests at heart.”
“It’s true. I do. And that’s why I worry about your mother as well. She doesn’t like any of the men you’ve ever dated, save for the few she’s tried to set you up with, and those never worked out,” Evie explains.
“She’d hate Cannon,” I blurt, unable to hold back any longer. “I know she would. He’s rather crass, and the way he speaks sometimes isn’t very proper, and he eats with his mouth open.”
Evie’s expression is pure sympathy, so I continue, “But not all the time, only when he’s particularly hungry.” Which seems to be all the time, not that I’ll mention it. “He can be rather loud, and he’s just so…large. She’ll hate him for his size alone, I know she will.”
“That’s a terrible reason to hate someone,” Evie says, her voice low, her eyes narrowed. She loves talking badly about my mother. “Just because he’s large.”
“That’s my mother for you, though. She won’t approve. He doesn’t have a title, he doesn’t come from a noble family, and he’s American. All negatives in her rule book.”
Evie scowls. “Your mother is horrible.”
And that’s my cue to change the subject, which I do with ease. I ask Evie about her love life and usually that’s her cue to regale me with all sorts of sordid tales. But she remains mum, surprisingly evasive, which makes no sense whatsoever. When the server eventually arrives with our meals and Evie’s second dirty martini, she flirts with him shamelessly. Even batting her eyelashes at him and flashing him a bit of leg, which is completely over the top.
Just watching her makes me miss Cannon. Why, I’m not sure. Maybe because I don’t have to try very hard and he’s instantly interested in me?
“The waiter is cute,” Evie says once he leaves. “Think I should give him my number?”
“Give him your Snapchat. It’s safer. Then he can’t call and terrorize you,” I say, pushing my fork around my plate. Guess I’m not as hungry as I thought I was.
“Maybe I want him to terrorize me.” She grins, her eyes sparkling, and I blame the martinis. “You’ve had a good terrorizing the last couple of days. Now it’s my turn.”
“Cannon didn’t terrorize me,” I say, a little irritated at her choice of words.
“Hmm, well he certainly did something to you, what with the way you’re all glowy and in love after a mere three days,” she mutters.
“Four,” I correct. “We spent four days together.”
And that’s insane, right? I see what Evie is trying to say. Four days with a man and I’m willing to maintain a long-distance relationship with him. If this were Evie, I’d try my best to convince her this was a terrible idea.
Because it is. A terrible idea. I must remember that. Remember, too, her wise words about a little time and distance will change everything. It will.
I’m sure of it.
“I miss you.” I’m lying in bed on a Friday night, and it’s only five-thirty. But I’m under the covers and naked, FaceTiming with Susanna, contemplating whipping out my dick so she can get a good look at what she’s missing.
It’s one-thirty in the morning where she’s at, and she’s actually in bed for real, her eyes puffy, her hair a mess, and I think she’s naked.
“I miss you too,” she says, sounding groggy. “I set an alarm so I’d wake up before you called.”
“You were sleeping?” I’d be pissed, having to wake up from a sound sleep just to talk to someone like me.
Maybe this is a sign that she actually cares?
“I wanted to actually see your face. This time difference is a killer.” She yawns, the sheet falling down a little bit, revealing the tops of her breasts.
My cock stirs, reminding me that it wants to make an appearance eventually.
“You gonna show me your tits?” I ask, scrubbing a hand over my face.
Her eyes go wide. “You say the crudest things.” The sheet falls completely and then there’s a bunch of rustling, the camera shifting away from her so I’m looking at her tiny bedside table. “Hold on,” she calls.
And then her chest fills my phone screen, her breasts filling the screen for a few seconds, giving me the perfect view. “What do you think?” she asks, her voice sounding distant, like she’s far away.
“I wish I could suck on them,” I say wistfully.
“Oh, Cannon.” She jerks the camera back to her face and she’s shaking her head, though she looks pleased. “You can’t just—say things like that.”
“Why not? I’m telling the truth. And that’s what you want to hear, right? Not a bunch of crappy lies.”
“I absolutely want to hear the truth,” she says, her voice soft. I stare at her pretty face, momentarily entranced. “How was practice today?”
We’ve been texting constantly since I arrived back in California, chatting whenever we can, and finally I had to plan a FaceTime date just so I can see her damn face. After spending so much time with Susanna, not having her around feels…weird. Like I’m missing a limb or something. And I’m not embarrassed to tell her I miss her either.
Thank God she said she missed me too. I don’t want this to be a one-sided relationship thing. We need to be in this together.
“Practice was brutal. The coaches ran us hard, though I’m starting to think it was a normal practice and we’re all still extra tired after coming back from the UK,” I tell her.
We’ve been back for about a week. If my words sound like a fucking excuse, that’s because they are.
“Aww, poor baby.” She’s teasing, I can tell by the sound of her voice, the smile on her face. “If I were ther
e, I bet I could make it better.”
“You give me a view of your naked body and I’ll definitely be feeling better,” I tell her immediately.
A nervous laugh escapes her. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“It’s…”
“What couples do when they’re apart.” I sit up more and let the blanket drop so my chest is exposed. “Show me what you got, beautiful.”
She presses her lips together, contemplating my suggestion before she scoots back a little and lets the sheet drop once more, her bare chest coming back into view, though now I can also see her pretty face. “There you go.”
I nod. “Yeah. Right there. Nice.”
Her cheeks go pink. “You’re wicked.”
“You like it.”
“I do,” she says without hesitation.
“Let’s get naked,” I suggest.
Worry crosses her face. “Do you think we should?”
Now it’s my turn to answer without hesitation. “Fuck yes.”
More laughter, the cheerful sound making me miss her so damn much, I’m almost overwhelmed. This is crazy. “You get naked first,” she says.
I whip the sheet back and scan my phone camera over my body, lingering on my rising dick. “Your turn.”
“Goodness, you’re huge.”
“Every inch is for you, baby. Now show me what you got,” I say.
“You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?” She looks around, then sets her phone against something, the camera still angled directly at her bed. She tugs back the covers, revealing that she’s lying there in a pair of black panties and nothing else, and when she kicks them off, I suck in a sharp breath at seeing her naked.
“I feel ridiculous,” she tells me as she lies on her side on the mattress, head propped on a pillow, her legs crossed so I can’t see that delectable spot between her thighs.
“You look pretty fucking amazing.” I wrap my hand around the base of my cock, giving it a stroke. “I could get off just looking at you.”
Her eyes go wide and she chews on her lip. “Are you going to—masturbate?”
I burst out laughing. “I thought that was the plan.”
“I’ve never done this sort of thing before,” she admits, sounding prim.
Damn, I love it when she talks like that. Sounds like that. Little Miss Proper makes me wanna go wild on her.
“Jerked off on camera?”
“I don’t jerk off, Cannon,” she says, sounding irritated, but not really. I think she’s just giving me a hard time. “But yes, if you’re referring to masturbating with each other while on FaceTime, that’s a definite first for me.”
I love that I can be some of her firsts. “How about sexting? Ever done that?”
She makes a little face. “Not really.”
“You’ve never sent a guy a sexy text before?”
“Define sexy text,” she says.
I gather up some of my pillows and push them to the side so I can prop my phone against them, then get comfortable, hopefully most of my body in view as I continue talking to her. “Something like, can’t wait to taste your cock in my mouth?”
She blinks a little. “That’s rather…”
“Sexy?” I wrap my fingers around my cock, and I see that she’s watching me.
Good.
“Yes. Um, definitely.”
“You should say it then,” I suggest, my voice casual.
“That I can’t wait to taste your cock in my mouth?” she asks.
“Yeah, just like that.” I start to stroke my erection, slowly, sort of playing with it, and I see she’s not doing a damn thing. “You gonna touch yourself?”
“Should I?”
“Absolutely,” I say with an encouraging nod.
“This is just so…weird.” She’s giggling as she wiggles around, trying to get more comfortable, I assume. Then she’s lying directly in front of the camera, her head and upper body propped on her pillows, her legs spread wide so all I can see is her face, her breasts, her belly and her pussy.
All of her pussy, every pretty pink part of it.
“Damn, woman,” I mutter, increasing my pace for only a few seconds before I slow back down. I don’t wanna blow yet. “You’re showing me everything.”
“You don’t want to see it?” She starts to close her legs and I yell, making her pause. “I guess you do,” she says as she slowly widens her legs once again.
“Touch yourself,” I whisper, and I watch as her fingers hover above her pubic hair for a brief moment before they slide down, down, until she’s tentatively touching herself, just like I asked her to.
“Feels good?” I ask, my gaze glued to her busy hand.
“Sort of. I wish you were the one touching me,” she admits, her fingers still moving, her breaths coming faster.
“Pretend it’s me, baby. Touching that pretty pussy and making it good and wet.” She increases her pace at my words and I swear I can hear her fingers moving through her juicy folds. That only turns me on more. “So beautiful.”
“You like watching?” Her voice catches when she must touch a particularly sensitive spot and a little whimper escapes her. “I like watching you.”
“Yeah?” I stroke my cock harder. Faster. “I wish you were touching me.”
“I wish I was touching you too.” Her fingers work furiously on her pussy.
“I want your mouth on my cock, so I can come down your throat.” I’m panting. I’m also sweating. It didn’t take long for us to get out of control.
“I’d drink down every last drop too,” she tells me.
Shit. I close my eyes, imagining me coming all over her parted lips. The familiar feeling is there, bearing down on me, and I try to withstand it a little bit longer. “I bet you would, greedy girl.”
Her eyes flare and she lifts her hand, her fingers glistening. “I’m feeling extra greedy tonight,” she tells me.
Just before she slips her fingers into her mouth and sucks on them.
Loudly.
That’s it. I come all over my hand, a shuddery groan leaving me as my stomach heaves. I’ve been a walking hard-on since I left London over a week ago, tense and on fire for only one woman.
Susanna.
I hear a moan and realize it’s her. My eyes pop open just in time to watch as she comes, her fingers working their magic between her clenched thighs, her head thrown back and her eyes closed, a keening sound falling from her lips. I watch in fascination, a residual shiver taking over me, and when it’s all over and she’s lying there like a limp doll, I finally have to say something.
“You are so fucking hot,” I breathe.
She opens her eyes and starts to laugh. And I laugh too. Both of us laugh together for a few minutes, spent and exhausted and exhilarated and feeling so damn alive.
I’m overwhelmed too. Emotional. I’m ready to spill my guts, let her know how I truly feel about her, about us, but at the last second, I clamp my lips together, triumphantly fighting off the urge to confess all.
She’d only think I was saying all that because I just came. And maybe that’s the case.
I don’t know.
“I wish you could come out to California soon,” I say, my voice wistful.
Damn, I sound like a needy bastard. Maybe because I am one.
“I wish I could too, but there is no way that’s happening until you meet my parents,” she says, her prim and proper tone back despite her lying there naked as the day she was born.
“I thought you were an independent single woman.” I’m teasing, but there’s some truth to my words. Does she really have to get her parents’ permission to travel out of the country? She’s twenty-three years old, for Christ sake. She’s younger than me but still a full-blown woman.
“I am, but a trip like that…is momentous. My father doesn’t like the idea of me being an independent single woman. He wouldn’t want me traveling alone,” she says.
“I already met your dad,
remember?”
“Of course I remember, but you two met in a more casual sense, you know?” She wrinkles her nose. “If we’re really in a—relationship, then they’ll want to meet you under more formal circumstances.”
“Like how?” I’m truly baffled. My dad isn’t even in my life, hasn’t been for years, and though I want my mom to like the woman I’m in a relationship with, it wouldn’t make or break that relationship if she didn’t. As in, it’s my relationship. The only opinions that matter are mine and my girl’s.
“They’ll want you to come to the house, and have dinner with us. Spend time together as a family,” she explains. “You’ll need to meet my older brother as well.”
I forgot she had a brother. She doesn’t mention him too much. “Your brother is a cool dude?”
“I wouldn’t call George cool.” She smiles. “He’s rather stiff, like my mother.”
I’m tempted to make a sexual joke about something being stiff, but not while she’s talking about her mother. “Isn’t he going to be the earl someday?”
“He is, and he takes that responsibility very seriously.” She hesitates, offers up a little shrug. “That’s why he’s so stiff.”
Huh. Sounds like George is lots of fun. Sounds like her entire family is fun.
Not really, but hey, I’ll try to think positive.
“I don’t know when I can get back to England. Not any time soon,” I tell her with regret. “We have games scheduled through November and December, and if we make the playoffs, we’re playing into January. With practices and travel time, I’m hardly around.” I barely have time for myself, let alone anyone else.
Maybe asking her to be my girlfriend was the wrong thing to do…
She sighs, then readjusts herself so she’s back under the covers, hiding her delectable body from view. “I should go to bed. I have to work tomorrow.”
Notice how she didn’t even acknowledge what I said. “How often do you work anyway?”
“It’s a part-time job, so only about twenty to twenty-five hours a week, and mostly on Friday and Saturday,” she explains, making a little face, like she just smelled something bad.
“You worked today?”
“Yes. It was boring though. I hate my job. But who cares? Not like I’m doing anything with my life anyway.” She purses her lips, and I notice how sleepy she looks. I want to ask her more about her job and why she hates it, when she says, “I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?”
Thinking About You Page 12