Two weeks later, I have come to the conclusion that I love Grey. And I don’t mean he’s sweet to me and makes me feel things no one ever could—that’s true. I mean love as in, I feel dreadfully miserable without him. I mean love where I desperately miss his kisses and his touches, even his corny jokes. Each day feels like a year. The calls and texts make it better. But they aren’t enough. I don’t think they’ll ever be…
“We still up for a study session tonight?” Mason nudging my shoulder snaps me back to the sad, miserable present. He and I left on rocky terms when I left for Thanksgiving, but the moment I came back, I hugged him and apologized for acting like an ass, pushing him away because of a promise he made with his sister. I asked him why he wasn’t at my house with his sister and mother, and he told me they parted on even rockier terms. Apparently, his parents are arrogant a-holes that didn’t take his transition with open arms. So he spent the holiday with his accepting grandparents. I hope to meet them someday. They sound sweet.
“Yeah, of course. Eight at my place, right?” I inquire, and he nods. I nod back, and we part ways. I’m on my way to my dorm after a long, grueling day of classes.
I plan on taking a much-needed nap and preparing for the intense studying that awaits me later. Finals are already taking place, and I feel like they’re kicking my butt, even though I know practically everything they’re testing me on. I asked Grey how he was able to take the time off when finals are here, but apparently he already took and aced them all. It boggles my mind how smart my man is, but at the same time, he is pretty clever.
When I get into my dorm room, I kick off my shoes then change into my university hoodie. I put my hair up into a half-assed bun, using the one band Grey lent me. I have to buy hair bands. The memory of me finding them gone because of his sticky fingers makes me laugh.
I grab a book, plug in some headphones, and climb underneath the sheets. Listening to music while reading a classic usually puts me right to sleep. Better than staying up and kicking myself while Grey beats some guy’s face to a bloody pulp. And then the thought pops up and scares the living heck out of me: What if he’s the bloody pulp? But then I think of how “talented” he is in that department and laugh. The guy could fight his way through a crowd if he wanted. That is, if I was on the other end of the crowd.
I smile to myself as I find myself sinking lower and lower into the enchanting words of Harper Lee. I even find myself reading the words under my breath. Passion and provocation, all the same. I could read this book a million times and never grow tired of it. Same with all other books. I find it incredibly amazing how authors use the same words and twist and shape them into new scenarios, making various stories, each unique and exquisite.
I am so wrapped up in the engaging words that I almost miss the vibrations creeping up my ankle.
I slide my finger across the screen and put it between my shoulder and cheek. “Hello?” My voice sounds groggy, and I glance up to the alarm on my bedside table, finding it’s already seven twenty-five. I’ve been reading for five hours?
“Hello, Princess,” Grey drawls. “What are you up to? I can practically smell one of your dusty books on your lap.”
I sit up and laugh, my heart picking up speed as it normally does when I hear his voice or even catch a glimpse of him. “You know me so well—I’m reading. And for the record, it is not dusty…a bit old, but not dusty.” I sound offensive, but it’s playful and he knows it. I know by the bellowing laughter that booms through the phone. I smile.
“Sure,” he says, amused. I roll my eyes but hold the smile on my lips. It’s so good to hear him. I’d rather see him, but I’ll take what I can get.
“What about you?” I ask and put my book to the side. It no longer has my attention. He does.
“Oh, just de-gearing. I just finished up a fight.” He groans, and I can imagine him unwrapping his bloody black gloves. “I won. Again.” Gloating. How Grey. I can just hear the default devil-may-care smirk of his. “How about you? You de-geared?”
I glance down at my attire and scoff, playing with the strands of the hair that escape my loose bun. “I’m just wearing a hoodie.”
“I didn’t hear any pants in that,” he notes.
“That’s because I’m not wearing any…” I am hesitant because of the suggestion in his voice. I consciously fidget with the hem of my hoodie.
“You aren’t, huh?” His voice is low and soaked with seduction.
“No, but what does that—”
“Do you miss me, princess?” he cuts me off.
I pause, not knowing where this is going, and glide my fingers anxiously over my right thigh. “Yes, a lot.” More than you could possibly imagine…“Do you…do you miss me?” My voice is shaky, and so are my fingers.
He laughs, and I smile and lean back against the headboard behind me. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it, princess. I think about you every night. Do you do the same?”
“Do what?” I clear my voice and wrap my free arm around my waist. Why am I getting heated by his words? He’s barely saying anything! I really am under his spell…
“Think about me?” He pauses and expels a lengthy sigh. “Do you touch yourself, the way I do?”
“What? No,” I exclaim and clamp my nails in the fabric against my heated skin. I feel beyond flushed and shift, but not because I’m uncomfortable, because he’s making me feel…things.
I clear my voice again for the second time in five minutes and listen to him laugh a silky laugh. It makes my stomach clench and my breath hitch in my throat. “Do you? You know, do that?” Gosh, I sound like a horny pre-teen girl.
“All the time, princess,” he says with a laugh that deepens the crimson color in my face. “The image of you and your pretty little lips around me is what keeps me going.”
“Oh, really?” I can’t help the smile that stretches over my face. His words are dirty and makes me feel naughty—in a good way.
“I bet you’re thinking about me right now,” he says. “I bet you’ve been miserable without me touching you…kissing you…tasting you.”
“I—I—” I have no words. All I can do is stumble like an idiot.
“I’m right, and you know I am,” he tells me with an air of cockiness that should deflate this sensation burning within me. But it doesn’t. It only inflates the tightness in my stomach. He sucks in air through his teeth that rattles my chest. “My naughty little princess.”
“Grey—”
“Have you ever touched yourself, baby?”
I laugh softly and mutter, “No,” while I try to get my frantic heartbeat under control.
“Then it’ll be damned more satisfying when I push you over the edge…on the phone,” he breathes, and I frown in confusion.
“What are you—”
“You miss me, right?” He cuts me off, and I nod when I realize he can’t see me. I answer him “yes,” and he says, “Then listen to me, until I can be there in the flesh and taste your sweet little—”
“Grey!” I gasp, and he laughs.
“Fuck, I love when you scream my name.” He clears his throat and says in a low, raspy voice, “Just listen to me and you’ll feel good—trust me. I want you to take off that hoodie of yours.” I am hesitant, but something in me—something primal and in need for him—is compliant. I take off my hoodie until I am bare in my underwear. A blush splashes across my face, and I bite my lip.
“Done,” I say in a shaky breath. Am I really doing this?
“Good…now slowly ease your hand in your panties. Feel yourself for me.” His words mixed with the fist-sized desire swirling in the pit of my stomach coaxes me to do just that. I suck in a breath as my small fingers meet my dripping core. So wet, and just because of the sound of his voice. “I take it by that adorable little gasp, you’ve found that sweetness of yours. Rub slowly, gently, until your toes curl. Fuck, do I want to be the on—”
“Shut up,” I tell him, and he laughs, but I roll my eyes and do as instructed. It feels odd doing this. I’ve never ever touched myself or even thought about doing so. But Grey…he has this strange, effective way of making me experience things—amazing things—I never thought once about. And boy, am I grateful I met this twisted but captivating man.
I take my time as I run the tip of my finger against myself. My toes curl like he said they would. All-knowing bastard…
“Grey,” I breathe his name in a low whisper.
“Take it easy, baby. I don’t want you to go overboard too soon,” he warns me, and I stop for a second, but I want more. I want him, but this will definitely do. Why haven’t I done this before? “Go slow and easy. Change the speed if you want to, but keep yourself grounded. Remember that I’m here.”
“Wishing you were here,” I drawl, my eyes falling shut as I continue to touch myself. I feel my heart beat against my throat as I round my fingers in circles. Fire entwines through my veins, creating a road map of spots pleasure has taken up camp. I writhe slightly on my bed and arch my back as I listen to his heavy breathing. The distinct sound of his zipper. And the encouragement spewing out of his lips I would do anything to kiss. To feel against me.
“Oh, I bet you are—fuck. Add a finger inside. Feel yourself on the inside—out,” he coaches. I do as told and moan. He curses and his breathing is ragged as he says, “What I would do to be there—”
“Grey,” I say in a ragged voice, like his. “Shut. Up.” He laughs, but it fades off into a breath intake when I moan his name and pump my finger while rubbing myself. This feels—oh my god. I suck in my bottom lip and rub a little faster. With each stroke, his name leaves my lips. My voice doesn’t even sound like mine anymore. It’s lower. Intense.
This is nowhere near enough. I need him here. I imagine him between my legs, tongue against me, eyes black as an abyss staring straight through me, and it nearly sends me over the edge.
“I need you here, Grey,” I purr and whine, shifting.
“And I need to be there,” he huffs. “Just picture me there. Your legs over my shoulders, my head buried between your legs. Can you feel my tongue against you? Tasting you? Savoring you?”
I picture that exactly and moan loudly. “Oh, Grey…”
“Yeah, princess. Can you feel my finger driving into your tight little pussy as I taste you?” His words are getting to me.
My breaths come out shallow, and his name becomes a ghost on my wet lips. I swirl my thumb, imagining it’s him tasting me.
“F-fuck, Grey. This feels so—good.” I smile a jittery smile as I drive my finger in and out, in and out, in and—
“Fuck, are you right.” He’s touching himself too. The thought and picture of him doing so drives me overboard.
“Grey!” I mewl his name and throw my head back and sputter his name over and over.
“Jesus, a-are you coming, baby? Are you coming for me? Hmmm?” He groans, and I moan a response. “Fuck. Come for me, now, princess.” The authority in his voice makes me smile, which dims when the pleasure takes over and all I see are stars beneath my eyelids.
“Grey!” I scream his name.
“Fucking—Liv,” he pants, and I can see him getting himself off.
I grasp for air as well and listen to him laugh. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because I really want to fucking skip this lame-as-shit town and take you for myself,” he admits, and I flush and burn even redder when I raise my wet fingers. I sit up and pull on a brand new pair of panties.
“As much as I would like that, you need to do this. You said it yourself.” I place my phone on the dresser as I search for a shirt and shorts to wear. When I find them, I put them on as he speaks. I still can’t believe I just had phone sex.
“Fuck MMA—I rather be inside you. I’m feeling doggy style,” he jokes, and I blush and fall back onto my bed.
“I don’t know what that is, but it doesn’t sound healthy.” I rub my stomach under the thin fabric of my shirt.
“Fuck healthy when I can make you feel the way you just did, but even better,” he says with promise. A promise I hope he keeps.
The door opens, and Jaimie comes in, shaking snow from her pea coat. “Sup, Bam.” She nods at me with a jolly grin. She skips over to me and calls out, “Hey there, Grey!”
Grey laughs. “Hey, Jaimie.”
“Jaim’!” I scramble up, and she giggles as she falls back on Julia’s bed. “Where’s Julia?”
“Taking a test,” she informs me. “But she’ll be back in time to get ready for the party.”
“Party?” I question her.
“Yeah, a neon party down by the docks,” she tells me. “It’s to celebrate the end of the school semester. But don’t worry—it isn’t school promoted in any way. So it won’t be shitty. Thinking of coming?”
I shrug and begin to say no, but Grey beats me to the punch.
“You’re not going to any party,” he growls at me. Is he a werewolf or something?
“Excuse you?” I raise my eyebrows.
Who does he think he is? We were just coming together a minute ago, and now he’s barking at me like some sort of rabid dog.
“I said you’re not going to any party,” he says, confused, like I should always just listen to him, like he’s my father or something.
“Okay, Daddy,” I say sarcastically.
He hums. “Don’t say that, unless you want to get bent over.”
I roll my eyes and avert my eyes from Jaimie’s amused expression. “Anyway, you creep, if I want to go to a party, I’m going. I don’t exactly need your permission.”
“No, but I know you can’t handle your liquor and need my saving every time you go to a party.”
“I am not some damsel in distress, Grey,” I snap at him. He just laughs. “Screw you.” I hang up on him and dial up Mason. I wasn’t even planning on going to the party, but he just unknowingly pushed me into going. I said it myself anyway; I’m well-educated for the finals. I know everything I need to know and more.
He answers on the second ring. “Hey! What’s up, Liv?”
“Change of plans…Mase.”