Page 7 of Absinthe Dreams
"Uh-huh. Like I said, land of delusion," I tease Jade, reaching out to stroke Thanos's ear. He leans into me, stretching like a cat in sunlight.
"Whatever," my sister grumbles. "We're talking about your delusions, not mine. You need to call Dad."
"I will," I sigh.
"Promise?"
"Yes, Mother." I roll my eyes. For her to be only a year older than me, she sure is bossy. "I'll call him soon." Just as soon as I figure out what lie I'm going to tell him to placate him. Anything is better than the truth at this point.
"Love you."
"I love you too," I say before disconnecting. I don't immediately call my dad, though. Instead, I stare at the phone for long moments before dropping it onto the bed and then climbing to my feet. Maybe I'll call after I shower. It was a long drive from San Francisco.
Thanos doesn't even move, so I leave him on the bed and stride out into the hallway, looking both ways for Trystan. The house is silent, and he doesn't immediately appear to annoy the hell out of me, so I quickly rush across the hall to the bathroom.
My hand is on the handle when I hear a soft groan from inside. It doesn't sound like pain, more like…pleasure.
What the hell?
I don't know why I do it—pure curiosity, perhaps—but I press my ear to the door, holding my breath.
For a long moment, all I hear is faint shuffling from the opposite side, and then Trystan's voice bleeds through.
"Chloe, fuck," he groans.
Oh.
Oh. My. God.
Is he…?
"Yeah, princess, suck me just like that," he growls, his voice deep and throaty in a way I've never heard before.
My nipples immediately turn to hard points, my womb clenching. I bite my lip, fighting the moan crawling up my throat.
Trystan is getting himself off. And he's thinking about me.
I should be pissed, right? My jerk of an ex-boss just told me that he does the same thing, and it was horrifying. But this feelsnothinglike that. This feels a little like heaven. Naughty, perfect heaven.
I know I shouldn't keep listening, but since when have I ever done what I should? Since never, that's when.
I lean closer to the door, my cheek against the cool wood, listening to Trystan get himself off. It's wrong, so damn wrong. And yet…my entire body is an electric fire, burning up my synapses.
How many times have I done the same thing over the years? Touched myself while thinking about him? Woken up with his name ringing out around me? Too many to count. It'salwayshim. Even before I understood what it meant, it was him. Even after I realized it'd never happen, it was still him. Even now, when we barely even tolerate one another, it'sstillhim.
There's never been anyone else for me. How could there be when they never compared? When I never stopped thinking about him long enough? No one smiled like him or laughed likehim. No one pushed my buttons like him or made my stomach clench like him. No one gave me butterflies or high blood pressure like him.
I gave up trying to wish away my feelings a long damn time ago and accepted that I'll probably die a spinster virgin, living off fantasies and battery-operated bliss.
A thump sounds from the other side of the door.
I jump, my heart slamming against my ribcage so hard it startles me as I try to imagine what's happening on the other side… his dark blond hair all messed up, every muscle in his big body tense, and his head thumping against the wall as his long, rough fingers wrap around his cock. He probably squeezes tight, his Adam's apple working as he pants for breath.
God, I'dkillto see that in reality.
"Chloe," he growls suddenly. "Ah, Jesus, Chloe."
For a second, I think he's caught me. And then I realize that isnotwhat's happening. That sound is pure ecstasy.
