Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
He quirks a brow, and I roll my eyes.
“Not just your bed … I miss you.”
A smile spreads across his face, and even in the dark, I can see his blue eyes twinkle with happiness.
“I miss you too. I can still smell your scent on my pillows. Paula tried to wash the sheets, and I told her not to.”
“You’re such a creeper,” I say, even though, deep down, I love that he did that. It makes me feel better, knowing I’m not the only one affected by our distance.
“I jacked off to the picture of you naked and flipping me off.”
He waggles his brows, and I glare daggers at him.
“I hate you,” I mutter.
“You said I could,” he argues.
“Not that you used my photo,” I clarify. “I hate that you were able to get off.”
I tried yesterday, thinking maybe an orgasm would help calm me the way it did when Lorenzo made me come, but after several minutes, I accepted that it wasn’t happening. My head just wasn’t in it.
“If I were there, I’d get you off too,” Lorenzo murmurs, his tone smooth as silk. “But since I can’t be there, pretend I am.”
“I can’t pretend you’re here,” I sigh.
“If I were there, what would I be doing right now?”
“You’d be lying with me in bed.” As hard as it is to think about something that isn’t true, the moment the words leave my lips, it feels good to pretend. “You’d be kissing me, running your tongue down my neck.” I close my eyes, imagining Lorenzo’s lips sliding along my flesh. God, I miss him so much.
“I love how soft your skin is,” he says, as if he can hear my thoughts. “If I were there, I’d take off all your clothes and lay you out on the bed so I could kiss every inch of you. Take your clothes off, baby. Show me what I would be kissing if I were there.”
I pull my tank over my head and slide my underwear down my legs, and Lorenzo groans, pleased with what he sees.
“Fuck, you have the prettiest, perkiest tits. Pinch your nipples just how you like.”
I turn to the side so he can see everything I’m doing, and then I pinch my nipple. It feels good. But it’s not the same as when he does it.
“If I were there, I’d suck on those pink nipples and get them nice and hard.”
He shuffles, his hand disappearing, and I imagine he’s stroking his hard length.
“I wish you were here,” I mutter.
“I am. I’m right there with you. Licking your nipples and sticking my fingers in your wet pussy.”
I run my fingers down to my pussy and spread my legs, finding that I’m wet. I push a finger and then two into my center, and a moan escapes as I hit the spot that Lorenzo taught me feels good.
“That’s it, baby. Find your clit and massage it just like I do.”
I move the pad of my finger to the swollen nub and rub, but it doesn’t feel anything like when Lorenzo does it.
“Gently,” he says, as if he can see what I’m doing. “Using your juices, gently stroke your clit.”
I take a calming breath and then gently rub my clit, and this time, sparks begin to surface. I keep doing it as Lorenzo tells me everything that he would do to me if he were here, and within minutes, I’m coming around my fingers.
For a moment, with my eyes closed, I’m able to pretend he’s here, but then I open my eyes, and he’s on the phone. My heart sinks because he’s not here. He’s nowhere near me, and while I love talking to him and seeing him, it’s also making it harder.
“I need to clean up,” I choke out, suddenly needing to get off the phone.
“You okay?” he asks, his features etched with concern.
“Yeah, I just … thank you. That felt good. But I … I need to clean up and get some sleep.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off, unable to hear it, “Good night, Lorenzo.”
I hang up, and instead of cleaning up, I nestle my face into my pillow and cry harder than I’ve ever cried as I come to the realization that we can’t continue like this—one foot in and one out. We have to go all in or let each other go.
And with that sobering thought, I cry myself to sleep, wondering how the hell I’m going to let Lorenzo go.
36
Lorenzo
“If you can’t finish the waterfront expansion by the date we agreed upon, then we’ll find someone who can,” I bark over the phone.
Curtis, the lead contractor, mumbles something about handling it, but I don’t have the patience to listen to his bullshit, so I hang up.
“Who peed in your Cheerios this morning?” Matteo asks.