Page 154 of The Snowball Effect

“If this is too much or too quick, then hang up. I won’t be offended,” Regan grit out, before she had to cut herself off for several long moments. She stilled her hips, swallowing thickly to try to maintain any possibility of a clear thought for Emma’s boundaries. “I don’t want to push you. I just – I want you, so badly. I’ve wanted you since that night in the bookstore. Maybe – probably – before. Every time I’ve touched myself since then, I’ve thought about you. About your body. About what you’d feel like on top of me. About how you’d taste. I’ve never tasted another woman, but–”

“Regan,” Emma’s voice was hoarse and reedy. “I – you…”

“Yeah,me. Even when I’ve tried not to think about you, you’ve kept popping up in my thoughts every time I touch myself. I can’t help it, Emma. It’s like a dirty obsession, and I can’t stop,” she confessed, wanting to confess even more.

Wanting to confess the detailed thoughts she’d gotten off to for weeks. Wanting to hear how Emma would respond to it, wanting to know how feasible they were.

“Hang up.” She turned her head and pushed her entire face into her mattress,hard. Clenching her teeth as she tried tokeep her hand and her hips as still as possible, even as she was shaking from the effort of holding back. “I’m seriously begging you, if this is a boundary for you, you have to hang up. Because I can’t.”

“I can’t hang up, either,” Emma admitted, her tone was so gravelly, it made Regan’s eyes squeeze closed. Like, if she kept her eyes closed and heard Emma’s voice sound like that right next to her ear, she could pretend Emma was here in her bed, instead of across the hallway. “I can’t believe I’m doing this with you, but I don’t want to stop. I was–”

Emma cut herself off on a hissed out breath, and Regan couldn’t stop herself from slowly starting a new rhythm. Rolling her hips down against her hand, so slowly. Trying to make this last as long as she possibly could.

“You were what?” There was a tone in her own voice she’d never heard. Something that was a cross between demanding and begging, and that was exactly what she felt right now, when it came to Emma. She wanted to demand Emma tell her everything, to lay herself as open for Regan as Regan would do for her, and she also had no problem begging for it.

“I was so close, when you texted me. I didn’t –mm, I didn’t realize you could hear me. I’m… god,” Emma broke off on a series of panting breaths. “I’m not usually a loud person; I don’t usually make a lot of noise during… and I didn’t think – I – I didn’tthink.”

Regan whined, nodding wordlessly as she worked a third finger inside of herself, needingmore. The fact that Emma wasn’t vocal during sex, but she was tonight while thinking about Regan… yeah, that only served to drive Regan even closer to the imminent, orgasmic edge. She throbbed, clenching so tightly around her own fingers.

“I’ve never felt like this,” Emma confessed, a whimper escaping her before she bit it off.

“What are you thinking about?” Regan breathlessly demanded. She just – she needed to know. She neededdesperatelyto know.

“I’m thinking about your mouth on me. I – Regan, I think about your mouth all of the time; you have no idea.” Emma’s breathing was so ragged, and Regan knew Emma was so far gone. Because she couldn’t imagine Emma ever saying that to her if she had all of her wits about her, and Regan’s entire body felt like it was on fire from the inside out.

She licked her lips as if she could taste Emma on them, now, and they tingled. “I’d love that,” she breathed back, groaning with it. “I love the idea of your thighs around my head, being able to slide my hands up them, gripping and touchingeverywherethat I want, and–”

Emma’s breath caught in her throat, a ragged, high-pitched gasp ringing in Regan’s ear. Followed by the quietest, trembling whimpers, and… Emma just came.

Emma came, forher. Emma came, thinking about Regan’s mouth, listening to Regan talk, and – and…

Regan squeezed her eyes tightly closed, sliding her dripping wet fingers from deep inside of herself to rub desperately at her clit. She couldn’t wait anymore. Physically, literally, shecould not wait. If she denied herself this orgasm for any longer, she felt like she would die from it.

“I’m on my stomach,” she hurriedly told Emma, wondering if her words were even coherent between the other cries she knew she was emitting. “Normally – fu-fuck – normally, I’d use a vibrator, but… but I didn’t want to. I wanted to be able to imagine you were on top of me, and that it was y-your hand–”

She couldn’t manage the rest of her sentence; she had no idea what else she’d been going to say. How was she supposed to know, when she couldn’t think of anything, anymore? She could only think of the orgasm that rolled over her in waves, how hertoes curled so tightly, and how best to rub her clit so she could draw out every last bit of pleasure.

In her head, that was exactly what she thought of, as she worked the orgasm from her body. She imagined Emma’s voice not on the phone, but live. In her ear, her warm breath on Regan’s cheek. She imagined it wasn’t her fingers working over her aching clit, but Emma’s.

Finally, when she had nothing left to give, Regan groaned – long and low – and fell, limply, to her bed. Completely wrung out, she collapsed, trying to catch her breath.

When she finally could, she lifted her hips up a few inches and whimpered as she slid her hand out from her shorts, before dropping her arm onto her bed.

She swallowed, wishing she’d had the foresight to get herself a glass of water. Then again, how could she have known this was going to happen?!

Blinking her eyes open, she glanced at her phone to see if their call was still connected.

And that hazy, post-orgasm pleasure dissipated immediately when she saw that the screen was black.

The liquid feeling that had made Regan’s limbs feel pleasantly heavy and tired dissipated, replaced with a self-conscious gnawing concern. Quickly, she reached up and tapped at her screen, hoping that her phone was just being weird or something.

But… no.

The call was disconnected. That kind of – no, itreally– hurt, and Regan’s throat felt strangely tight. What had she done wrong? What –

The quiet knock on her door had her quickly pushing herself up, staring for several beats at it. Obviously, it was Emma, but Regan was feeling, uncharacteristically, unsure of herself right about now.

“I’m really close to just opening the door,” Emma’s voice was slightly muffled from. “But I don’t know if you’re wearing clothes or not, and I think – for sanity’s sake – that clothing should be on, right now. Since we, obviously, don’t have great self-control.”

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