"I miss you," she whispered into the phone.
He pushed his head back into the pillow, groaning at the sound of her voice. "I know, baby. Me, too."
"The bed is too big without you here," she whined softly. "And you're not here to keep me warm…"
He cursed, rubbing his face. "Maya…"
"Make me feel good, Lucas," she moaned. "Tell me what you would do to me if you were here."
He closed his eyes, picturing her on his bed at home. She'd be wearing one of his shirts. To keep him with her, she said.
"You wearing my shirt?" he asked gruffly.
She whispered a soft "yeah", and the tone of her voice had his orgasm rush to the tip of his shaft. She had the sexiest voice – it amazed him how one session of phone sex with her obliterated live sex with other women.
And God, he missed her. Every moment with her not spent in his arms caused an ache that only her presence could heal.
She was his future.
"Take off the shirt, honey," he whispered. "I wanna picture you naked."
"Okay."
He heard her put the phone down, and the noise of clothing being removed. He pictured those glorious arms yanking his shirt up and off, the look of lust and love on her face…
"I'm naked," she said, "and wet."
"Are you?"
"Uh huh," she whispered.
"What made you so wet, Maya? We haven't even started…"
She moaned. "It's-it's your voice, the thought of you touching me," she said, her voice hitching in frustration. "You don't know what it's like – to think of you, to hear you, and I'm soaked."
He laughed mockingly. "Don't I? Do you even know how you affect me? How beautiful I find you? How much I want you?" She groaned, and he closed his eyes, grabbing his shaft as he remembered. "Remember rehearsing our dance for the school play last year? How we were practicing a lift, and you were almost straddling my face? Do you even know what I wanted to do? Do you, Maya?"
She moaned a soft "no."
"I wanted to taste you. I wanted to strip those pants off you, hold you against the mirror as I went down on you. Eat you out until you came screaming, over and over." He heard her sharp intake of breath over the phone. "Is that too much for you, princess? Too raw?"
"No," she whimpered. "Te-tell me more."
"You touching yourself, baby? Fingering yourself, wishing it was me? You wish I was there with you, underneath you, as you sat on my face? Huh?"
"I'm-I'm touching myself," she admitted. "But – it doesn't feel the same, baby. God, " she moaned in frustration, her fingers rubbing her clit furiously. "I ca-I can't – "
"Shhhh, baby, I got you," he whispered. "You wanna come? Do you?"
"Yes," she whispered brokenly.
"I'll get you there, baby," he promised. "Don't you worry."
He was naked on the hotel bed, his shaft almost purple from the orgasm he was withholding. He wanted to tease her a bit longer, wanted her almost blind with need.
The way she had him. The way she had had him from almost the moment they met. She had hooked him into her web, and he was powerless against his feelings for her. It almost made him angry, how much he loved her, how much he needed her. Almost pissed him off at how he was putty in her gorgeous hands. How it almost embarrassed him.
But then he thought of her – of her touch, her smile, her breath - of how she reached inside him and calmed the storm that raged within, of how selfless she was, how she trusted him implicitly without reservation or condition….and he fell in love with her all over again.
He wore his heart on his sleeve – this, he knew. He wanted what the couples he looked up to had – wanted that complete togetherness, that united front that no one could tear apart. Wanted someone who he could look up to, someone who he admired, someone who he could trust, who would defend him.
And she was all of it. This petite, small woman – a superstar in her craft, a great artist – she inspired something inside of him. She enabled him to open himself up, to be the man that so few knew. She was the key to his heart, to his soul.
She was, simply put – his all. His everything. His more.
And, now – when they both had commitments that kept them apart from each other – it wrecked them both.
But it would only be for a little while longer. Soon enough, he'd be able to see her every day. Feed his addiction to her face, her smile, her touch.
Soon.
It couldn't come fast enough.
"I love you," he growled through the phone. "I hate not being with you. I hate that we have to do this, when I want to be with you, touching you, feeling you." He heard a sharp intake of breath, continued, his accent growing stronger with each word. "I hate that we had to go from sleeping together every night to this. That I don't get to see your face every morning, feel you underneath my hands, taste you with my mouth. "
He heard her soft sob, and went on. "I want to kiss you. I miss the way your mouth tastes, I miss your lips against mine. I miss feeling your hands in my hair, your touch, Maya," he growled, as he started to stroke himself. "You don't know what your touch does to me, how I fucking ache for it. Your hands – your skin - I can't get enough. I want it on top of me, over me. I want it everywhere , so then I know you're here. With me."
She was gasping and moaning through the phone. "Lucas…"
"Come for me," he demanded. "Imagine you're here, and I'm inside you," he began stroking himself faster, harder. "Fuck, baby, I'm almost there. Come for me, princess. Come for me, imagine me hard and deep inside of you… Where I need to be, where I'm meant to be…"
He moaned into the phone as he felt the pleasure start to overcome him, but he held on. She needed to come with him. He would allow nothing else.
"Baby, oh God," Maya sobbed. "I'm coming…oh my God, Lucas…"
And hearing her sobbing his name, he exploded.
Crying out her name.
It was several moments later when one of them spoke.
"Baby?" she whispered.
"Yeah?"
"I love you," she said.
He smiled, wishing for the umpteenth time that she was here with him. "I love you, too. More than you can ever know," he replied.
"You better now, honey? You okay to sleep?"
She yawned over the phone, and he heard the distinct sounds of sheets moving. "Yeah, I think I'm good. Nothing beats insomnia like a great orgasm via phone sex."
He chuckled. "Well, I'm here to serve."
"That you are. And don't you forget it, mister," she threatened, yawning. She was adorable.
"I won't," he promised. "Go to sleep, honey. We'll talk tomorrow."
"Okay, Huckleberry," she whispered sleepily. "Love you."
"Love you, too," he whispered back. "Sweet dreams, Shortstack."
Smiling, he hung up the phone, picking up a random shirt on the floor to clean himself up.
As he began to toss it away he noticed.
He had used one of Zay's favorite t-shirts to clean his come.
Shit.
Zay was gonna kill him.