8
Midnight Confessions
“What do you want from me, Coy? I feel like a swinging pendulum. I’m getting mixed signals. I told you we couldn’t work together.”
Her words in her small voice repeat over and over in my mind.
Fuck, I wanted her this afternoon. Bloody Bev interrupting us, like I need to know when she’s back or not. Well, okay, maybe I do, but I couldn’t have given a shit today. Hell, she could have taken the entire afternoon off for all I cared. I should have just kept Eastlyn in my office until we hashed out what we needed to. Picking up my tumbler, I take a long, cold sip, letting the smooth taste of the whiskey linger on my taste buds before I swallow, trying to mellow myself out a bit.
But before I can think better of it, I grab for my phone. I open my Messenger app, find the chat Eastlyn and I started weeks ago, and begin to type.
McCoy: I moustache you a question.
I type the stupid line we used all the time when we were kids. Back when I didn’t want to admit that I liked her more than I should.
Eastlyn: I’m about to go wash my hair. Can you shave it for later?
She responded faster than I expected, making me laugh that she’s playing along. She can’t be as pissed off as I thought. Being after midnight, I figured she’d most likely be out, or asleep, since it’s Friday night.
McCoy: It’s an important one.
I push, hoping she’ll take the bait.
Eastlyn: Fine.
McCoy: Are you busy?
Eastlyn: Is that your question?
“No, smartass,” I laugh.
McCoy: Are you too busy for this right now?
I want to make sure she’s not out and I’m not distracting her. I want her full attention.
Eastlyn: No. You actually woke me up. I must have fallen asleep watching Goonies.
I smile at her movie choice.
McCoy: Good choice.
Eastlyn: I know. What do you want, McCoy?
As she texts, I can start to tell that, okay, maybe she’s still a little pissed at me. I can’t say I blame her, though. I have been swinging her back and forth like a pendulum.
McCoy: Don’t be mad at me. It was a joke.
Eastlyn: What part?
I smile at her testing the waters.
McCoy: The report card notes. You were right, they were very well done.
I cringe, waiting for the middle finger emoji to appear.
Eastlyn: Jokes are funny. What you did was mean.
McCoy: You’re right, it was.
Suddenly, I’m feeling all brave, like I want to push her some.
McCoy: Would you let me make it up to you?
Eastlyn: What do you want, Coy? I’m tired.
I immediately picture her sprawled on her bed in a tiny nightie, exposing the perfect amount of soft skin, enough to entice and seduce. Even though it’s cold tonight and chances are she’s wearing pyjama bottoms and a big-ass sweater like she did when we were kids, my cock still stirs at my vision. After all, the weather doesn’t apply in fantasyland. Right?
Eastlyn: You still there?
McCoy: Yeah, sorry. I was picturing what you might be wearing.
Eastlyn: Oh, brother.
McCoy: No. And thank fuck. There isn’t a single thing brotherly about what I just pictured.
Eastlyn: Jesus.
McCoy: I think you’ll be calling me God when I’m done with you.
Eastlyn: I’m serious! What is it you want, Coy?
I’ve had enough. Picking up my phone, I find her contact info and hit call.
“Hello?” She picks it up on the first ring, and I swear I can hear her smile.
“You honestly want me to tell you what I want?” I ask, my voice huskier than intended, but, hell, I’m hard as a rock after the visual I’ve given myself.
“Yeah, I do. And, truthfully, you’ve got me confused and I hate feeling like this—” she stalls before adding, “—again.” I file away that comment for later.
“Think you could handle knowing exactly what I want?”
“I can handle it. Unless it involves clowns or baiting worms,” she jokes, and it’s followed by a sexy giggle.
“Okay, well, I suggest you get ready, baby. Maybe slip off your nightie and move up against your headboard. Grab your vibrator and enjoy,” I tell her cockily, and she full-on laughs.
“For starters, I’m wearing flannel bottoms. It’s cold out. And second, who’s to say your answer will warrant my getting off for your listening pleasure?” she challenges, and it’s game-the-hell-on.
“Fine. A wager. I get you so hot you come, you be my date for Rory’s wedding,” I say.
“And if I don’t?” she asks, and I smile at the victory of her not shooting down the idea of being my date.
“You will, so I’m not worried.”
“See? You’re such a jerk,” she laughs, and I join in.
“Are you trying to give me a complex when all I’m trying to do is answer the question you asked?” I say.
“Whatever, get on with it then. I’m all ears. We’ll determine my prize later.”
“I want one full day, just you and me. Alone,” I start, and stretch out on my couch, squeezing my dick as it starts to remember how close we were to her today, how much she wanted me, too, how responsive she was. Fuck, I could almost taste her need from the scent of her excitement in the air alone and I’d barely laid a finger on her.
“I could do a day with you,” she says.
“And I want to film it. You’ll start with a slow strip tease for me, revealing what I’ve imagined over the years as being the perfect set of tits and hottest pussy I’ll ever taste. Then I want you to crawl up to me where I’m lying on the bed. You’ll unzip my pants, seeing how painfully hard watching you strip has made me. You’ll take mercy on me and help me out of my pants.”
“Hmm. What then?” East asks, her voice low and seductive, making me grin, knowing I’ve got her already.
“You slide my boxers off next, then you rub those sweet tits of yours up and along my body from my chest down over my cock, letting those hard nipples slide against my skin, the friction making us both moan. Then you move back down and situate yourself between my legs, ready to slip my hard cock into that sexy-as-fuck mouth of yours.”
“Fuck,” she moans, and I hear what sounds like a drawer opening.
“You with me, Sprinkles?” I ask, smiling into the line.
“God, yes.”
“That’s real good, baby.”
“Keep going, Coy. What else?”
“I want you to blow me until I come down your throat while you look me in the eyes, letting me know how horny you are. After we catch our breath for a few seconds, I’ll flip you over and it will be my turn to go down on you. I’ll start by slowly running my tongue up and down your lips. I’ll find your sensitive clit and suck on it until you just can’t take it anymore, and you’re so soaking wet, it’s dripping down your thighs.”
“Oh God, I want that. I do. Fuck.”
“Are you touching yourself, Eastlyn?” I ask, pumping my hand up and down my cock now, my body overloaded with images of Eastlyn and me doing everything like I’m describing.
“Yes, I’m so wet. So, so wet,” she tells me and I hear a low buzz in the background.
Fuck, yes.
“You going to pretend that’s me rubbing your pussy and making you feel good, East? You going to come for me, baby?”
“Yes, hell, yes. Keep talking, please,” she begs and I try not to laugh, but she’s so fucking cute when she’s hot and bothered, just like I remember from all those years ago in her parents’ basement. Goddamn, this woman is everything.
“Coy. More, please, tell me more…” she whimpers, and I hear the buzzing sound getting louder.
“Once I’ve lapped up every single drop of your orgasm, I’m going to move my cock up to tease your pussy with my tip until you’re begging me to fuck you. When you start saying you’re going to come, I’ll start gently rubbing your clit until you’re screaming and quivering and then I’ll enter you, inch by inch, until you take all of me. Fuck, East, I imagine how snug and perfect you’ll feel wrapped around my cock when I thrust in and out, slow then fast, in and out, over and over again until you—
“I’m coming, I’m coming, oh God,” she screams through the phone, and I blow my load all over my stomach, knowing that I just made Eastlyn Hatfield come. Hard.
“I think I just won,” I chuckle, a moment later.
“Just shut up. Send me the wedding details,” she sighs, and the line goes dead.
I reach for some Kleenex to clean myself up, and smile.
I think Sprinkles and I just became best friends.