Page 22 of Never Again
“Hi.”
Her soft voice made his loins ache even more. Like him, she was in bed, propped up against a multitude of pillows on pastel-striped sheets. She wore a paisley silk head wrap, and he saw the thin straps of a yellow pajama top.
Carlos normalized his breathing. “You okay?”
“I had a long day.”
“Tell me about it.”
And she did, telling him about work, the phone calls she’d had to make, her nerves when she had to chastise someone but knowing it was a necessary evil of being one of the people in charge.
“Is the work getting easier?”
“Yes and no. Some days are easier than others, but that’s part of this whole exercise of immersing myself in the company. I have to learn until all of the decision-making and daily tasks become second nature, so I’m assimilating.”
“You look tired,mi amor.”
“I am, a little. But I didn’t want to go to bed without talking to you first.”
Carlos smiled. “I’m glad you called, because I was thinking about you.”
“You were? What were you thinking?”
“About how glad I am that we reconnected. About how much I miss you.”
“I’m glad we reconnected, too.” She briefly closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, her languid expression reminded him of how she always looked when she was…horny.
Noting the odd movement of her right arm, he asked, “Are you touching yourself?”
Carmen’s brown eyes looked right into his. “Yes.”
“Why?” he asked in a hushed whisper, barely able to get the word out.
“I miss you. And you know I love the sound of your voice.”
He could barely breathe now, he wanted her so bad. “Carmen, you can’t do that.” Knowing that she pleasured herself merely because they were talking would slowly drive him insane. “Carmen.” He wanted to sound stern, but he sounded weak as hell. Because she made him weak, and he badly wanted to join her in self-stimulation.
“I can’t stop.”
She moaned, and that was his undoing. His hand returned to his penis, which had softened during their conversation because he’d done the right thing by listening as she talked. But she’d suddenly changed the rules, and he gladly returned to the moments before she called.
“Carlos,” she whispered, her voice sounding pained with longing.
Once again, he stiffened under the clasp of his own hand. This time, though, he had the benefit of seeing Carmen live, hearing her voice, and watching her reactions.
“Pull your top down,” he said huskily. “I want to see your breasts.”
Without a word, she put down the iPad and he heard rustling. Still on her back, she bent one knee and propped the tablet against her thigh. She’d done as he asked, and he had a clear view from her waist to the top of her covered head.
He watched as she rubbed a hand across breasts and played with the dark nipples. They were swollen and erect, and the need to suck one into his mouth pounded through him like the relentless beating of a drum.
Precum leaked from his shaft, and he swirled the liquid around the sensitive tip as sexual tension tightened his stomach muscles and made his balls ache. Watching her was the best kind of torture. He could see but not touch.
He moved restlessly, hips lifting off the bed with a regular rhythm as he rubbed and squeezed, watching the love of his life getting off a thousand miles away. Touching herself. Moaning and biting her bottom lip.
“I’m right there with you,mi amor. Do you feel me? Do you feel my hands between your legs?’
“Yes.” Her eyes shuttered closed.
