Page 88 of Chasing After You
“I missed you.” I sigh, putting on my big girl pants—figuratively, of course—and I set the ball in motion. “What would you do if you were here?” I ask, giving him the opportunity to shut this down, but I hope he doesn’t.
“I’d take a moment to look at you, and then I’d kiss you.”
“What would you do next?” I ask, my voice sounding breathy.
“I would pull you into my lap and tell you how incredible you look. I’d tell you enough times that you wouldn’t have any choice but to believe me, Mira, and then I’d kiss you again, taking my time until we’re both so thoroughly out of breath, we don’t have a choice but to stop.”
“Would you touch me?” I like where this is headed.
“Mon cœur, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you. I’d slide my hands under the jersey, becausefuck, it took too damn long for you to wear it. I’d want to look at you in it as long as I could and memorize how you look when I play with your nipples, rolling them between my fingers the way you like as you grind against me,” he says, and I squirm, the ache between my legs begging for more pressure.
Fuck, that all sounds perfect.I definitely agree, it took too damn long for me to wear it if this is the reaction I get.
“Henry, can I touch myself?” I ask, a whimper slipping from my lips as I play the scene in my head. Not even half a second later, the phone begins ringing with a FaceTime call.
I answer, relishing the look of desire and desperation on Henry’s face. “There’s no way in hell we’re having phone sex, and I don’t get to see you come in my jersey on my bed to my words, okay?” his voice rumbles, and this is better than I imagined.
“Do I get to see you come?” I ask, and the corner of his delicious mouth quirks up, clearly liking the idea as well.
“I’ll let you see whatever you want, baby,” he says, his voice rough as he sets up the phone to let me see him and the inked body I love.
I prop the phone up in the pillows to where he can see me on the bed, and Henry’s core ripples as he takes his sweatpants off. Oh my god, he’s brave for not wearing briefs. Holy shit, I’m not even sure where to look.
“This is what you do to me, Mira. I want you more than anything,” he says, and I feel like I can’t breathe.
Am I actually doing this? Are we really going to check something off the list?
“Take your underwear off. I want to see you,” Henry instructs, fisting his cock as my mouth waters.
“I would if I had any on,” I tease, trying to prevent my nerves from getting the better of me, and his full mouth curls into a smile.
“Fuck, Mira,” he swears under his breath. “Show me how wet you are.”
“Soaked,” I answer, keeping my eyes glued to the screen as I follow his directions. I refuse to look away from him as I dip two fingers into my core, and Henry moans, squeezing the head of his cock as I circle around my clit, my breath hitching.
“Show me,” he says, and I hold them up for him to see. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he says, his abs flexing again. “Use your other hand to play with your nipple. You make the sweetest sounds when I pinch them.”
“Henry, you feel so good,” I breathe out, pretending he’s the one touching me instead of myself. I love his hands so damn much; it’s a problem.
“That’s it. Make yourself feel good, Mira,” Henry says, watching me intensely, and I’ve never felt more in control of a moment with someone else than right now. “If I were there, I’d kiss you and slide another finger in you so I can feel you gasp. I fucking love it when you do that. I want to know every sound you make as I worship your body.”
“Fuck,” I swear, pumping another finger in my core, arching my back at the feeling. It’d feel better if they were Henry’s, but it still feels pretty damn good. Who knew that phone sex could be so awesome?
“Tu es incroyable,”26 he says, his eyes hooded as his hand quickens and I love watching him lose control as another low groan escapes from Henry’s mouth. A lock of dark hair falls across his forehead, and I’d kill to brush it back, but that would also mean we’d be in the same bed right now.
“I want to taste you. Would you like that? Fucking my face?” I ask, lost in the moment enough that I don’t feel self-conscious saying it. I don’t feel silly voicing my wants and desires to him. Henry makes me feel safe, even when he’s in a different part of the country.
Henry’s jaw clenches tightly, and he stops moving his hand as he watches me. The head of his cock is an angry red color, and looks so hard it’s painful. Why did he stop? He’s breathing heavily, and I swear, next time I have the opportunity, I’m going to trace every line of his tattoo with my tongue. I’m honestly a little surprised I haven’t done it already.
“I’d love that if it’s something you want to do,” Henry says roughly, and I nod quickly.
“Yeah. I’ll add it to the list,” I say and Henry laughs, giving me a real smile.
“Mira, it doesn’t have to be on the list for us to do it,” he says, but that sounds messy. That makes this feel too real, and as much as I want it to be, I can’t forget that this is fake.
“There’s something satisfying about checking something off a list,” I defend, my body protests as I roll on my side to face him.
“We can add it to the list, but I didn’t say you could stop touching yourself,” Henry says, raising an eyebrow. “If I were there, I wouldn’t stop until you were crying out my name so keep fucking my fingers, Mirabelle.”
