And I did that too. I begged for the privilege of touching my own cock because, right then, I belonged to him and he needed it as much as I did. “Oh God. Please. Let me. I need it. Need you.”
Maybe it should have been embarrassing. Well, it was, except the embarrassment was muddled up with everything else, so things that I would have expected to feel weird, things I would have expected to feel scary—like being exposed and vulnerable and mindlessly horny—felt powerful instead. And sexy as hell.
“God help me,” he murmured, “you’re perfect.”
I was pretty out of it. Could hardly hear him over the thundering of my heart and the rasp of my breath and the hunger in my skin. Later, I’d remember how sad he sounded when he said it. How broken. But all I did at the time was scrabble against the sheets, hands reaching for nothing, and my head thrown back to bare my neck to my not-there lover. “Please, Caspian, please please, make me—”
“Now.”
It was the shortest wank of my entire life. It didn’t take much more than a couple of strokes and I came noisily, blissfully, and gratefully in this epic, spine-cracking, toe-curling rush. It was like my whole body was in it, not just what you’d imagine to be the relevant bits: all of me, mastered and consumed by pleasure.
By his will. Without even the brush of his fingers against my skin.
For a few seconds after, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Complete mental and physical whiteout.
Incredible. Terrifying.
And then I noticed the silence. Sat up like the kid in The Exorcist. “Caspian?”
After a moment, he answered, “I’m still here.”
I flopped back onto my pillow. “I thought you’d gone.”
“I…no.”
“Like a sexual hit-and-run.”
Another pause. “Are you all right?”
“There’s come in my eyebrow. I think that counts as pretty fucking good, don’t you?”
His soft, slightly uncertain laugh. “If you say so.”
With one limp, still trembling hand, I pulled the duvet up to my chin. Felt it settle against various sticky places. I should probably have cleaned up, but I was too fucked out and I didn’t care. I curled up next to the phone and closed my eyes. Some parts of my brain tried to remind me that I had an exam tomorrow. But the only coherent response I could form was mmmmmmm, my mind as languid as a cat in the sun.
Suddenly, I thought of something important and wasn’t sure how to ask it. If it was even okay to ask, despite what we’d just done. “Um, Caspian?”
“Yes?”
“Did you…are you…can I…”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m fine.”
Well that was crushing. “It…uh…didn’t do anything for you?”
“No, it did,” he said with mollifying swiftness. “I just have no intention of becoming a man who masturbates in his office.”
“It’s nearly midnight. You’re still working?” It didn’t seem a particularly glamorous image anymore. It seemed a lonely one.
“Not right now, clearly.”
I snuggled down. My limbs felt heavy and light at the same time. It was a good, blissy feeling, deep satisfaction and this…pride? Peace? “But you’ll think of me later, won’t you?”
“Arden.”
