by B. Cranford
Damn it, I shouldn’t have thought of him in bed, because it made the adrenaline flow that much faster while pressing play on my favorite visual image.
You know, the one of us tangled together.
“I don’t know if I should tell you, though,” I hedged, flirting because I could, trying to hold on to the brave that so often deserted me when I was on the verge of doing something out of character.
Like telling a near-stranger that I’d always wanted to have phone sex. Cake for breakfast? No, thank you, not when the sound of Rowan’s voice was in my ear and telling me that he was as into me as I was into him. Making me feel brave, braver than I ever had before. This was me rebelling against the nightmare, doing something wild like my sister told me to while challenging myself to have some dirty fun.
“You should definitely tell me, sweetheart.” His casual endearment didn’t fall on deaf ears. “I said I wanted to help, and I do.”
“It’s . . . I mean . . . I want,” I stammered, my eyes scrunching closed, a picture of his happy crinkles and sexy, nerdy glasses making my tongue feel thick and useless.
“You want?” he prompted, the sound of material rustling making me think again of him in bed and giving me that last push over the line.
“I want to try phone sex.” Red-hot embarrassment flooded my cheeks, making the tips of my ears burn. Desperate to take the words back, I mentally grappled with finding the right thing to say.
All the while, Rowan was loudly, obviously silent.
It felt like an eternity before he finally spoke and never doubt that I used that eternity well. In my head, I’d created at least a million scenarios where he alternatively mocked me, laughed at me, hung up on me, ignored me to talk about some mundane thing, and declared that he would never have sex, phone or otherwise, with me.
Only his response when he finally spoke was none of those million things.
It was two simple words, one roughly spoken question.
“Right now?”
Chapter Six
Rowan
I came to the logical conclusion that I was hearing things. Stretched out in my bed, I’d called Lenny as soon as I’d woken up and seen her message from the night before. Maybe I wasn’t awake but still dreaming because there was no way that Lenny had just said what I thought she’d said.
“Right now?” I asked, my voice like sandpaper as I tried to make sense of what was happening. “Phone sex. Right now?”
Please say yes. Please say yes.
Not wanting to jinx anything—this wasn’t only a woman I’d just met, but one who had some pretty big fears she was looking to overcome—I waited for her reply.
It took her a few hour-long seconds to speak. “Right now. I know it’s kind of, uh, out of the blue?”
“I mean, a little, yeah.” I chuckled, wondering if it was childish and immature to cross my fingers, or some other superstitious thing, like touch wood. Which wouldn’t be an issue since my dick had gone rock hard immediately after she’d said, “Phone sex.”
“It’s not sex that scares me,” she explained. “Unfamiliar situations, being upside down”—a shuddering breath—“driving, those things terrify me. But this isn’t—that is, you aren’t unfamiliar. Anymore.”
Hearing that, I felt a surge of pride in her, and a surge of arousal that took my cock from rock hard to diamond hard.
“We don’t have to,” she continued, “if you don’t want to though.”
“Don’t want to? Okay, I might not be unfamiliar, but I’m clearly not completely familiar either. Because not only do I want to, I pretty much need to now.”
Hearing her shifting around did little for my state, and when she spoke, so quietly I barely heard her, I nearly lost it then and there. “Are you hard for me, Rowan?”
I groaned. “You have no idea, sweetheart. Where are you right now?” I was determined to get the ball rolling, so instead of waiting for an answer—surely, she wouldn’t have suggested it if she wasn’t well placed to follow through—I barreled on. “I wish you were here. You could see how hard just talking to you has made me.”
A whisper of sound, nothing more. “Cat got your tongue, Challenger? That’s okay, I can do all the talking. But you’re going to have to do what I say, got it?”
Her reply was an agreeable hum, and I smiled wickedly at the thought of her blushing with nerves and need. “I’m not gonna ask what you’re wearing, because it doesn’t matter. You need to take it off, and you need to do it right now.” Waiting, I listened for the sound of movement, of clothes being removed, and was immediately rewarded.
“Rowan?”
My name breathy on her lips made my cock twitch, and I lowered my hand to press my palm over it. “Lenny?”
“I don’t want to be naked. Is that okay? I left my underwear on.”
She sounded hesitant, but that was fine. Better than fine—instead of freaking out or refusing, she gave me what she could. God, she probably didn’t even realize how brave she was being. “Then we’re a matching pair because that’s all I have on too.”
Her breath caught; mine sped up. “I wish I could see you naked. I’m going to one day. I thought about it all day yesterday, did you know?”
“You did?”
“Fuck, yes, I did. When you said you’d stayed overnight, I imagined us in a hotel room, messing up those tightly made beds. Can you imagine it, Lenny?”
“I did. Imagine you and me that is.” Stuttering, she added, “I-I wish I could see you too.”
An idea formed in my mind at her words. “Can I send you a picture?” The rustling in my ear made me wonder if maybe Lenny was emphatically nodding, but I wanted to clarify. “I need you to say yes or no, sweetheart.”
“Yes.” No stutter this time. “I want you to send me a picture.”
Making an approving sound in the back of my throat, I put my phone on speaker and opened the camera. Angling it so she could see down my chest, my hand now disappearing into the waistband of my briefs instead of resting atop them, I snapped the photo and sent it to her. “It’s not the same as being naked together,” I told her, her small gasp at receiving the image making my body tighten, “but it sounds like you approve.”
“Your body is . . .” she trailed off, then giggled. “Even more perfect than your teeth.”
Laughing with her, I quickly brought us back to the matter at hand. “I’m stroking my cock, Lenny. Because I’m talking to you, and picturing you touching yourself, and it turns me all the fucking way on. Your legs spread, your pussy so pretty and pink.” I wrapped my hand fully around myself after a few up and down swipes of my palm and made my words reality. Pumping up and down my length, I gently encouraged her to join me, somehow knowing that she hadn’t. Not yet. “Pinch your nipple for me. Hard. I’d do it if I were there, but since I’m not—”
A feminine moan drowned out my words. “Again, Lenny. And this time, slide your other hand down your body for me, okay? Nice and slow.”
A shuffling sound—was she putting me on speaker?—followed by a quiet “yes,” and another sound of pleasure.
We might have only just begun, but I was already on the edge.
“You want to touch your pussy, don’t you? I do. But you’re gonna have to do it for me. Just one finger, though.” Stifling my impulse to roughen my strokes, I listened carefully as Lenny’s breathing became more and more ragged, wanting to make sure she was still with me. “You doing okay, sweetheart? Still with me?”
The sound of her breathing deeply, shakily, made my heart stop dead in its tracks. And then she spoke, “I couldn’t use just one finger, I’m sorry. I needed two, because—because I was imagining it was you, and your hands are bigger than mine. It feels so good, Rowan, having you touch me like this.”
“Fuck, Lenny. Fuck.” My hand moved faster, trying to keep time with my pulse. “Tell me more.”
“I’m so wet. It’s never been like this before. It hurts, but it feels even better than that. And I-I just want to come. C
an I? Please?”
That last, whimpering word sent me reeling. Out of control, I gripped myself tightly and thrust my hips up into my hand, groaning, “Hell yes, come now.”
“I will,” she promised. “I am. My clit is so slick, you know. Your fingers keep wanting to slip away, but you can’t let them.”
“I won’t, I won’t,” I chanted as my balls drew tight, my hips and hand working in time as I arched up and felt the inexorable pull of pleasure ripple down my spine.
“Rowan!” Her shout was loud, pitchy, and dripping with satisfaction, followed by a series of increasingly quiet but contented sighs. “Oh my god.”
It was enough to tip me over into an orgasm that bowed my back. As warm, wet ropes of cum splashed on my stomach, I told Lenny how good it was, how much I enjoyed it, how I couldn’t wait to do it again. I showered her with praise and gratitude because I didn’t want her to worry, to second guess what we’d done.
Silence greeted me until I thought she must have hung up. Pulling the phone back and seeing the call still connected, I asked what had become my go-to question with her, “Are you okay?”
“I’m scared of driving.” The reply, seemingly out of nowhere, came in a softly spoken, still shaken voice. “I don’t want to learn, because the last time I tried . . .”
Her voice petered out, leaving a tense quiet in its wake.
I took advantage of the quiet to clean myself up, reaching for a handful of tissues while giving her a chance to work up the courage to keep talking. When silence persisted, I knew she needed a little prompt. “Lenny? What happened the last time you tried?”
“I know it seems out of character for me to do something like this.” She didn’t elaborate on what “this” was, and she didn’t need to. Because I knew, and yeah, it had seemed out of character—or as out of character as something could be for a woman you hardly knew. “But sex doesn’t scare me. I might not have a lot of experience with it, but it doesn’t scare me.”
I had no idea what to say, so I said nothing, let her keep talking instead.
“Crowds make me nervous, and roller coasters terrify me because of the feeling of being pinned down, of falling, of falling while being pinned down. But driving? Driving is my nightmare, Rowan.”
“Tell me why.” Please, I wanted to beg, needing to understand. “You can trust me.”
“It’s a long story—”
“You’ve said that before. I like long stories. Give me an epic tome any day of the week.”
She laughed as I’d intended. “Yeah, you’re into War and Peace length sagas, huh?”
“Please. Give me Proust in one hefty volume and watch me explode into rapture.”
“I get the feeling you’re mocking me.” She laughed as she spoke, so I knew she wasn’t genuinely hurt. “But that’s whatever. I’m still going to give you the too long-didn’t read version.”
I sighed dramatically. “Fine, the short version. Tell me.”
“Okay, here goes. I was in a car accident when I was first learning to drive. My uncle Garrett was in the passenger seat, and he—he didn’t make it.” Her voice was strong, but underneath I could hear the fear, the pain, the loss she must’ve felt. “I was driving, and we were side-swiped by another car overtaking us. I know it wasn’t my fault, I get that, I do.”
“But?” I asked, knowing that there was one—knowing, too, that she needed to get it off her chest.
“The car rolled, and I was stuck there, upside down. Pinned.” A long shuddering breath. “Alone. The other car didn’t stop, and we were out of sight of the road. I was there with him for, like, two hours.”
Fucking hell. “Lenny, I’m so—”
“What did I tell you about saying sorry?” she asked, interrupting to remind me of when I’d tried to offer condolences on the loss of her friend. Clearly, the “I’m sorry” thing was something she really believed in.
“I know we’re doing the serious thing right now, but can I tell you something stupid?” It was maybe on the nose to change the subject, but instinct was telling me to not make a big deal of her confession. To accept it and move on—she didn’t want me to tell her how sorry I was, and I fucking was, because she’d been dealt a terrible hand, then I was going to try and give her an out. Something else to talk about, so she didn’t have to linger in bad memories.
“How stupid are we talking?” she joked, already a noticeable change in her tone. “Because if it’s going to be stupid, it better be incredibly stupid.”
I sighed dramatically. “Yikes, I don’t know that I’d call it ‘incredibly’ stupid, but it might make you feel better? Proof that we’re all afraid of something?”
“Okay, let’s hear it then.”
“I am terrified of worms.” Shuddering at the thought of them, I added, “Regular, garden variety worms.”
Confusion in her voice. “That’s—” Cutting herself off abruptly, she made a sound of helplessness.
“Weird, right?” I said, finishing her sentence. I was sure she’d want to ask a lot of questions, and I was fine with that. “Ask me anything.”
“Why worms? Like, they can’t hurt you. They’re just slimy, wiggly worms, right?” Cringing, she added, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound like an asshole. It’s a legitimate fear, I’m sure.”
Laughing partially from embarrassment and partially to ease her mind, I explained, “It’s just a weird thing. Worms in apples. Remember that was always in books when we were kids? I used to dream about swallowing one, and it was”—I shuddered again, a full body shake that made me want to swipe at my arms—“living inside me. And I can't see a worm—or an apple, now I think about it—without wanting to scream a little bit.”
“Scream, truly?” A slight giggle, followed by a shaky sounding, “Ew.”
“You okay?”
“Thanks for that disgusting visual. I think I might be afraid of worms now too."
“Well, shit. I was trying to make you feel better. You were supposed to laugh at me. Call me worm boy and threaten to hide gummy worms under my pillow.”
At that, she sucked in a breath. “Under your pillow implies I’ll be in your bedroom. Maybe even in your bed.”
“Is that a problem?” I asked, resisting the urge to cross my fingers, worms and apples and fears forgotten.
“Not at all.”
Dual-layered satisfaction hit me, driving away the last of my concerns. Because I hadn’t just diverted her attention after getting her to confess her fear, paving the way for us to move forward. I’d also gotten—and given—an orgasm that blew my goddamn mind . . . and hopefully set us on course for more in the future.
#Winning.
Chapter Seven
Lenny
Our phone call hadn’t gone exactly the way I’d expected it to. Which might explain how I ended up standing next to Rowan’s car one week later, his smile and happy crinkles looking down at me in expectation.
We’d spoken every night since the day we’d met, had verbally fooled around each time. And when he wasn’t talking me into coming, he was making me laugh with dental anecdotes and stories about his family. Or getting me to confess—and sometimes add—more items on my to-do list.
He always seemed to know all the right things to say to me. Was it any wonder I was already three-quarters of the way in love with him? It made my heart twist to think about—the need building inside of me to have him nearby. To see him.
To let him hold my hand as I challenged myself to try something new.
Now, we were finally face-to-face again, for the first time since we’d said goodbye at the bus station, and that same twisting heart was fluttering in my chest and sending signals to my body to be ready.
“Challenger,” he started, reaching his hand out to gently brush, then cup, my cheek. He pulled me into a soft kiss that soon turned heated. Helped along, no doubt, but the way my leg—with encouragement from that organ in my chest—wrapped itself around his hip.
I was a half-second away fr
om bringing my other leg up and jumping into his arms, dry humping him in the abandoned parking lot he’d found about a twenty-minute bicycle ride from my place. The only thing that stopped me, aside from my simmering terror at the upcoming driving lesson he had planned for me, was the fact that my height would make kissing him awkward if I was leg-locked around his waist.
Oh, to be petite and short and adorable. Sigh.
“Hot,” he mumbled against my mouth, his cock hardening against my core, and making me feel all kinds of tangled up inside. “I love that I don’t have to throw my back out for a kiss.”
Stopping mid-kiss at that comment, I pulled back to look at him. “Say what again?”
He looked slightly rumpled, and a little bit dazed. Apparently, I hadn’t just wrapped a leg around him—I’d also run one hand through his dark hair and fisted the other in his shirt, leaving telltale wrinkles. And was it just me, or were his glasses fogged? “You’re so tall, Len. I don’t have to bend down to half my height to kiss you. I can lean in and there you are. Do you have any idea how much of a fucking turn-on that is?”
He punctuated his words by bringing his body, and yes, thank you, Jesus, his erection, closer to me and my weeping pussy.
“Look, see?” he asked, immediately bringing our lips together again, his tongue thrusting into my mouth and somehow short-circuiting my brain.
“Good height, yes kiss,” I said by way of a response, deciding then and there to forgo words in favor of just letting him plunder my mouth like a pirate in one of the old romance novels my mom still had in a box in the spare closet of her house.
Dazed, horny, and still pretty jumpy about my upcoming lesson, I melted into his arms, doing nothing but encourage him to give me more, more, more as his hands moved over my body before settling on my ass. Under the short dress I was wearing.