Page 72 of Icebound Hearts

ME: More. Please…

I hear a soft noise through the wall, and although I don’t know quite what it is, I imagine that he’s lying down now too.Is he going to get off with me? The thought of him lying there with his big, pierced cock in his hand, stroking himself with nothing but this wall separating us, sends a fresh wave of desire thrumming through me.

ME: Are you doing what I think you are?

SAWYER: What do you think I’m doing?

It’s too much effort to type a full sentence, so I just send back the eggplant emoji, and I hear him laugh quietly through the wall.

SAWYER: No. As much as I want to, I’m not touching myself right now. This is all about you, baby.

Another rush of heat floods my veins at his text, and I’m more grateful than ever that I decided not to go home with Ethan tonight—not that I was ever tempted. But if Sawyer keeps this up, I’m not going to be able to hold it together for much longer. Every nerve in my body is already screaming with pleasure, aching to release the tension that’s welling inside.

SAWYER: What are you doing now?

ME: Listen.

I drag the vibrator in a long, torturous circle around and across my pussy lips, letting out a whimper that’s just loud enough for Sawyer to hear it through the wall. I’m sure he can imagine what I’m doing to make that kind of noise.

SAWYER: God yes. Whatever that was, keep doing it. Fuck yourself with your vibrator. Do everything I would do if I was there to take care of you.

My head falls away from my phone and my eyes flutter shut as I bring the vibrator up to my clit again and pinch one nipple between my fingers with my free hand. Immediately, I see Sawyer in my mind, his wide, muscular frame towering over me as his mouth clamps down on my nipple and his fingers dance across my clit.

It makes my entire body tense as I race right up to the edge, the vibrator humming against my swollen clit. I yank it away at the last second and shove back the orgasm burning to get out of me. My toes curl so hard they cramp, and I lie panting and shaking on the mattress. My phone vibrates again.

SAWYER: You got quiet. Are you getting close?

It takes way more effort than it should to peck out a reply with a shaking hand.

ME: Yes.

SAWYER: Fuck. Good girl. Let it out. Let it all out for me.

I’m so turned on by all of this that I don’t think I could resist for much longer anyway, so I tease my clit with the silicone toy again before sliding it lower and pressing it inside myself. My other hand keeps working my breasts, playing with my nipples as I writhe on the bed, tossing my head from side to side. It doesn’t take long before the tide rises too high for me to pull it back, and I clap my hand over my mouth as my orgasm finally crests.

Wave after wave of pleasure courses through me, and I bite down on my palm to keep from getting too loud. I feel and hear my phone buzzing somewhere beside me, but it barely registers through the white-hot sensations that are flooding my body.

It’s one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had in my life, and it seems to go on forever. By the time my body finally starts to relax, slumping back against the mattress, I realize I must have stopped breathing at some point. My lungs burn, and I drag in a long, shuddering breath.

My hands pat the covers until I find my phone, and my fingers shake a little as I tap out another message to Sawyer.

ME: Holy shit. I don’t think I’ve EVER come that hard before. That was amazing.

I hesitate, then type out one more text before I can second-guess myself.

ME: But… I still want more.

Several seconds pass without a reply, and my heart does a flip in my chest. Shit. Did I push things too far? Or is he having some weird guilt about doing all of this with me now? Worry bubbles in my stomach, and I sit up on the bed, staring down at the screen.

A full minute passes, and there’s no response from Sawyer. I press my lips together, wrestling with whether I should send him another message or just let it go.

I don’t want to?—

A light knock on my door startles me out of my thoughts, and my head whips toward it. My pulse picks up, and I quickly grab my sleep shirt and tug it on, just in case it’s Jake. Then I slowly pad toward the door, wrapping my fingers around the handle and opening it.

It’s not Jake.

Sawyer is standing on the other side of my door in nothing but a pair of gray sweats, his hands braced on either side of the frame. His hair is mussed as if he’s been running his fingers through it, and his gray eyes are as dark as storm clouds.

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