Page 30 of The Shadow

My body aches for his touch.

Aches for a release that only he can provide.

No amount of cold showers or self-pampering are going to take my mind off of the fact that I’m beyond turned on and frustrated to the highest degree.

I light a candle, turning the lights down and flipping my music app to a smooth jazz setting. I slide my silky robe around my freshly lotioned and naked body. I sink back into bed, allowing my hands to explore myself as I try to remember every single little breath, touch, kiss, and lick that Harvey’s mouth traced against my body.

My back arches, my legs thrash, and I struggle to find release. I open my robe, a thin sheen of sweat breaking across my forehead. I readjust myself, trying to will myself to relax as my hand begins to try and replicate the way he had me slick within seconds. After multiple close calls, I sit up with a huff and glance at the clock. The orange letters of my alarm clock glow brightly back at me: 11:28.

Finally, I give up, hanging my robe on my closet door, blowing out my candle, and climbing beneath the cold sheets that glide over my naked body. But no matter how many times I flip my pillow to the cold side or rearrange my body, I can’t relax.

I grab my phone, remembering that Harvey told me to call him if I can’t sleep. Instead, I type out a text to him, hoping that if his phone is on silent, he won’t even see it till the morning.

Me: Surprise. I can’t sleep.

I place the phone back onto the nightstand and lie down, but just as my head hits the pillow, my screen lights up. I bolt up, grabbing my phone, expecting to see a text, but it’s his name flashing across the phone.

“Hello?” I say sheepishly, suddenly feeling guilty in case I woke him up. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“You didn’t.” His voice is thick with sleep, gravelly and delicious, and I’m sure he’s lying. “Why can’t you sleep?” I hear what is probably him rearranging the pillows on his bed.

I get a sudden urge of confidence most likely brought on by the mostly dark room and complete lack of blood flow to my brain that has been currently redirected to the throbbing desire between my thighs.

“Did you—do that thing with my panties?” The phone goes completely silent and I worry that he’s going to be annoyed. Maybe what I thought was continued flirting tonight was just him letting me down easy. But then he groans.

“Fuck, that’s what you’re thinking about?”

“Yeah.” I almost don’t recognize my voice, it sounds so sultry.

“Fuck,” he groans again, “now why is an innocent little thing like you thinking about me stroking my cock?”

I don’t mean to but I let out a breathy moan, my hand sliding down between my thighs. “Tell me, please.”

“Yes,” he admits, “I did jerk off last night with your panties.”

“How was it?”

“Jesus.” His voice sounds strained. “It was good, fast.” I sigh and it gives me away. “Aspen, are you touching yourself?”

“Yes.” I roll onto my back, my legs falling open.

“Mmm, I like the thought of that. What are you wearing?”

“Nothing.”

“Is that why you called? Do you need me to talk you through it, baby?”

It’s like a flood of pure lust surges through me when he says that. The way baby drips from his lips for the second time tonight.

“I want to hear you…”

“What do you want to hear, Aspen? Tell me how I can get you there.”

“You jerking off.” My voice dips, my tone hushed.

“How’s your pussy? Are you dripping yet?” His voice is thick. “You’ve already got me rock-hard just hearing your voice,” he groans.

“Yes.”

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