Page 43 of Open for Negotiation
“Oh my God, Max,” Scarlett whispers. “It feels too good.”
My cock is a solid mass of sensation in my grip, I’m so close already and I’ve barely even moved. “Are you going to come for me?”
“I’m almost there, fuck, I’m rolling my hips so softly, but it’s hitting my clit in the most perfect way. I can feel how wet and slick I am,” she moans again, this time much louder than before. “I wish you were the one here, touching me like this.”
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I grunt between strokes, my hips moving in time, fucking my fist roughly. “I’m going to come, Scarlett. I want you to come with me.”
“Yessss, I’m there. Oh my God.”
Those familiar sounds, the ones she only makes when she’s cresting the peak, fall from her lips and it’s the end of me.
I growl out something feral, animalistic, and come intensely, nearly painfully, letting the liquid find a landing spot on my abdomen.
We don’t say anything for quite some time, both of us just trying to catch our breaths, but she breaks the silence first with an adorable laugh.
“Wow.”
“Understatement of the century,” I respond, “Fuck, I need to clean up. Don’t hang up, okay?”
“I couldn’t move right now if I tried. I’m Jell-O.”
“Have some water, if you’ve got some close by. I’ll be right back.”
“Yes, sir.”
I toss my phone to the cushion and head off into my bathroom to clean up, returning just a few minutes later.
“I’m back.”
“I’m still Jell-O, but slightly more hydrated and snuggled under my blankets.”
I smile at the picture. This is something we haven’t been able to experience together thus far. Every encounter we’ve had has been under the cloak of secrecy. We have always finished our time together quickly, spent a few minutes making ourselves look presentable, then gone our separate ways. We’ve never been able to experience postcoital bliss together. I’ve never been able to bring her water, or stroke her skin. I’ve never been able to have her wrapped around me as she drifts off into a deep, sated sleep.
I’ve never wanted that with anyone since Miranda.
“Are you settled? Comfy?” I ask.
“Mmm hmm,” she responds sleepily.
“I have a feeling you’ll be snoring within a few minutes, so I just want to say something before you do, then I’ll let you go, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispers in response.
I don’t know what has come over me and made these words leave my lips, because this isn’t the type of man I am, for the most part, but given the fucked-up, unique circumstances of our arrangement, I decide against holding back.
“The time I spend with you, whether it’s in meetings or having meal, or even doing what we just did, it’s always the brightest part of my day. I’ve always noticed you, you know? Even when I shouldn’t have. Even before I considered divorcing Miranda. I’d always catch a glimpse of you, hear you laughing, or watch you work when you’re really in your element. You fascinated me, and the moment, the millisecond really, that I thought you may be as attracted to me as I was to you, fuck, I couldn’t stay away.” I can hear the gentle, even breathing coming from her side of the phone. “I really like you, Scarlett,” I admit out loud.
But she doesn’t say anything in response. There is no reaction at all. I’m not offended though, I’m not even hurt, because I know the reason.
“You’re sleeping already,” I say, knowing I won’t get a response then I laugh. “Goodnight, Scarlett. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I end the call and rise from the sofa to head off to bed myself with, no doubt, a night full of blonde beauties haunting my dreams.
