Page 30 of Close Your Eyes

“Hello,” I say, anticipating the sound of her voice on the other end.

“Hi.” Her voice is quiet, threadbare, like she doesn’t want anyone to overhear her.

I feel bad for putting her up to this. “We don’t have to talk if you might get caught.”

“It’s okay. I want to talk to you. I miss you.”

Fuck. The way the need drips from her voice makes my throat go dry.

“I miss you too,” I say, not worrying about the implications of my words. Just wanting to be honest with her. “Your poem is almost sad. Did you write it a long time ago?”

“I wrote it last week.”

I don’t want to mention Bane, because it makes me sick to think about her marrying him, but I can’t stop thinking about the girl in the poem. How she’s lonely. So, I tell her my own truth. “Sometimes I feel lonely even when I’m with those closest to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“For the longest time, I had my brother and the Huxleys. It was the four of us. Roman, Devereaux, and his sister, Greer. Now Dev has Chloe, and don’t get me wrong, I love Chloe. She’s awesome. Tough. Dependable. She’s perfect for my best friend. And Roman has Greer. I feel like the fifth wheel. I’m happy for them, but I feel lonely.” I’ve never admitted that to anyone, and it makes me feel vulnerable as I voice it to Posey.

“I understand that. However, I’m sure they want you to be happy. They want you to find somebody.”

I scrub a hand over my hair. “Want to hear something funny?” I can’t believe I’m about to say this to her but fuck it.

“Sure.”

“Almost every night at work, I have couples ask me to join in on their fun. Men ask me to sleep with their wives, and all I can think about is how badly I wish Bane would offer you up to me.”

Posey makes a tiny gasp. “Ledger,” she says, her voice thick with what sounds like desire.

“I’m sorry. I can’t stop thinking about you, Posey.” My heart hammers away in my chest, and I worry I’ve made a wrong move. But I can’t help it.

“I should go,” she says, and then she hangs up.

And I feel like the biggest asshole for pushing too far.

I toss my phone onto the coffee table, silently cursing myself for saying that. I shouldn’t have. I close my eyes, thinking about her.

She floods my mind constantly. She’s always there. Thoughts of her drift through my mind daily. What is she doing? Is she happy? Is she thinking about me?

My body pulses with need.

What would I do if given the chance to be with her? To touch her? To be so fucking deep inside her?

My body hardens as visions of Posey standing before me, her hand about to touch my chest, invade my mind. Tonight was the most erotic experience of my life, and nothing happened. When she almost touched me, I had to grab her wrist to stop her because I can’t allow her to go there.

I can’t allow myself to go there in real life. But here in my fantasies I can touch her all I want. I can be as rough, or as gentle as I want with her.

Fuck, I can’t stop my mind from playing out these scenarios with her. My cock hardens, and I run my hand over it through my sweatpants. And then I push my pants down, fisting my dick in my hand, stroking my thumb over the bead of precum at the tip.

I’d kiss the ever-loving fuck out of her. It’s something I can’t stop wanting to do whenever she’s near. I get lost in the thought of her. The smell of her. The wondering of what she tastes like.

I stroke my cock up and down, letting the images of Posey crash over me. Me kissing her soft lips with her bright red lipstick. Letting her ruin me with that shade. Seeing the remnants of the lipstick on my chest, across my dark tattoos, along my dick. Would she suck my balls into her mouth?

Would I have to teach her?

I know she’s a virgin, but just how inexperienced is she?

I think about her on her knees, taking my dick in between her lips. Me feeding it to her. Me shoving it deep down her throat.