Page 41 of Into the Dark
“Hopefully no one. I kinda think you’re perfect how you are now.”
It’s so cheesy, but I can’t help but smile deeper. “I’ve really missed the sound of your voice on the phone.”
“Really?”
“Mm-hmm. It’s very deep and very rough.”
“Deep and rough? Are you fucking kidding me?” he groans.
“Frustrated, are we?” I tease.
“What do you think? I haven’t had sex in six fucking weeks. Yeah. Frustrated is one way of putting it, Alex.”
Oh. He never had sex with anyone when we were apart? That’s comforting. Unexpected and comforting.
I hear voices rise up from his end of the line then, and I open my eyes and sit up, straining my ears harder to try to hear them. For some reason, I want to hear how the infamous Freddy Ward sounds. Perhaps if I hear his voice then he’ll be more than just this great black specter hanging over both our lives. All I hear are indistinguishable male voices.
“I have to go now, but I’ll be as quick as I can, okay?” he promises. “Keep it warm for me, yeah?”
I giggle. “Mmm…it’s pretty warm right now,” I tell him. I’ve been on fire for the past twenty-six hours. Actually, I’ve been on fire for six weeks. I want our make-up sex, and if I haven’t had it by the time the sun rises tomorrow then I’m going to go to wherever the hell he is and demand he fucks me.
“Yeah, your cunt is always so fucking warm,” he says, his voice rough and deep.
My eyes close as the strongest vibration of want yet shudders through my whole body.
“Oh, and baby, one more thing…”
“Yes?” I manage.
“I love you,” he says, and then he’s gone.
When I climb into bed a half hour later I’m beyond frustrated. I grab my least erotic book from my nightstand: the biography of Hilary Clinton Tash loaned me in France. Just when I think I’m definitely too frustrated to sleep, I feel my eyes begin to cross and blink closed. I’m asleep an instant after switching out the light.
I awake sometime later to the feeling of the bed dipping, his presence disorientating but vivid in my half-asleep state. I’m not sure what time it is, but the sleep felt deep, and so it must have been a few hours at least. His body is warm and hard and completely naked as it settles in beside me. I slept naked like he wanted me to, and as his hands travel over my body and his mouth meets the top of my spine I’m glad I did.
His scent washes over me in soft, delicious waves, his mouth a firm pressure across my shoulders and the back of my neck.
“Jake…” I moan as he slides a hand between my thighs, a soft, seeking caress. It’s a little awkward, though, and I want to see his face, so I turn my body around to lie on my back. His hair is damp from the shower and he looks tired, but there’s unmistakable arousal in his eyes, visible in the scarce light of the moon.
“Hi,” I murmur sleepily.
His beautiful face is undamaged and unburdened, and he smiles softly as he looks down into my eyes. “Hey,” he says before lowering his mouth to the base of my throat. He kisses softly before licking upward to the bottom of my chin. “Fuck, I missed you,” he growls.
I feel the heat of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue against my lips, but he doesn’t kiss me. He licks at my lips—teasing, delicate strokes that make me breathless and needy. I slide my arms around his neck and open my legs to let him settle between them. His erection presses against my inner thigh, sheathed and ready for me. The thought of him stroking himself in the dark, of being hard before he even got into bed, arouses me to a maddening degree.
“Sorry it took me so long to get home,” he whispers.
Home. Oh, I like him saying that.
“It’s okay. You’re here now.” My hands travel across his stomach and upward, brushing across the hard ridges of his pectorals, his nipples, up to his shoulders. He does the same, brushing his thumb almost absently over my nipples, which are already hard.
When he kisses me again he slides his tongue deep inside, messily curling it around my own as he pushes his erection into my thigh. Dipping his hand between my legs, he kisses his way across my cheek to my neck again, where he nuzzles the sensitive part below my earlobe.
“Fuck, you smell so good, baby—so clean…” he breathes. His beard is rough and ticklish across the tender skin of my neck, but it only heightens the sensation, making every inch feel electrified. I feel his fingers tease my clitoris gently, stroking and caressing my body to readiness. Masterful and familiar.
God, I’ve missed his hands on my body like this, his practiced touch on my most intimate places. Sucking and biting and dragging his mouth roughly across my throat and neck as though he’s trying to taste every inch.
Suddenly, he stops, lifting his head up and sitting up to stare down at me. The addition of his facial hair adds something new in this light, something mysterious and shadowy—a different kind of roughness that I like very much.