Page 12 of Axel

Several seconds turn into several minutes that go by without a reply. Maybe Kelsey’s fallen asleep—it’s after midnight now—or maybe she’s lying in her bed wearing nothing but my t-shirt, touching herself. My cock stands at full attention at that image, lifting the fabric of my boxers.

I shrug them off and toss them onto the floor.

I prop up my pillow, still holding the phone in one hand in case Kelsey responds. I wrap the other hand around my cock. With each stroke, I imagine it’s Kelsey’s hand. That instead of getting interrupted for a call tonight, I’d lifted her onto the bathroom counter and suckled her nipples while she tugged down my zipper and reached inside my boxers.

Kelsey:What are you doing?

Me:It’s top secret.

Kelsey:Good thing I have a top secret security clearance.

God, I love that humor. It makes me feel as though I’ve known her forever. For lifetimes instead of a single day. I stroke faster, picturing her lips sliding over my swollen head as those amber eyes flicker to meet mine.

Kelsey:Are you doing something naughty?

Me:So what if I am?

Kelsey:Do you want to know a secret?

Me:Do I have the right security clearance?

Kelsey:No. But I’ll tell you anyway.

Kelsey:I’m doing something naughty too.

I stroke harder, faster. The phone falls from my hand as blood rushes south, and I explode.Hard. Cum shoots all over the damn bed, but I don’t care that I’ll need to change the sheets tonight. The release takes over my whole body, the intensity of it unreal.

“Fuck me.”

I’m fucking dizzy from the much-needed release. There’s cum all over my hand, my stomach, and my sheets. If I ever get the chance to come in Kelsey’s sweet pussy, it might actually kill me. But I don’t care. Because it’s all I want.

I reach for the phone with my clean hand and see one final message.

Kelsey:Sweet dreams ;)

7

KELSEY

Words flowfrom my fingertips like I’m a woman possessed. I’m a fast writer on a normal day, but I’ve never had a book explode from me like this.

When I texted Axel last night, I’d been struggling with a bout of writer’s block. Doubts about this book coming together as quickly as I’d hoped were effectively silencing my inner muse. The possibility that I might not finish this bookat allwere even starting to whisper. I wanted to have it to my editor before I boarded the plane destined for Hawaii, but I couldn’t seem to focus.

I’d been worried about Axel.

I didn’tworryabout my research subjects. I purposely remain untangled from their personal lives. I prefer all the messiness to stay contained in my fictional worlds. It’s safer that way.

Yet, I’d been the one to dirty up our text conversation last night. I’m attacked by a full body shiver, wondering if Axel was really doing what I think he was doing. Did he picture me touching myself while thinking of him? Was he stripped downnaked in his bed, stroking his cock as he thought about our make out session?

I glance at my laptop screen, as though I’m just now seeing my words. Had I been in a trance this whole time, unaware that I’d been writing my experiences with Axel almost verbatim? Except, in the fictional story, the heroine doesn’t text the herosweet dreams. He tells her to come over and find out if he’s up to something naughty.

And she goes.

“Whose t-shirt is that?” Hope asks, sliding into the booth seat across from mine. I look up, suddenly aware thatDaisy’s Dineris full again. I glance at the clock on my laptop and gasp. Have I really been writing for six straight hours? This is the lunch rush?

“Holy shit, I’ve written twelve thousand words already today.” And I feel as though I have twelve thousand more in me.

“That’s amazing. Whose t-shirt is that?”

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