Page 5 of Finding Home with You

“I’m thinking that I wish it was your hand holding my dick,” I tell her. “Or better yet, your mouth.”

“Not my pussy?” she asks.

“Shit, Erin,” I bite out, my body straining for a release. “Your hand, your mouth, your pussy. I want all of it.”

Erin laughs, but it’s throaty and deep and sexy as hell. “I know you do, Detective. Just like I wish it was your cock inside me now, not my fingers.”

“Tell me you’re touching yourself,” I say, my hand moving faster.

Erin groans through the phone. “I’m not just touching myself, I’m fucking myself,” she says. “Fucking myself with my fingers, just like you once did.”

“Erin,” I moan, my hand gripping tighter, moving impossibly faster. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come.” And then I do, my dick exploding in my hand as Erin pants down the phone, calling out my name as she comes too.

“Wow…” she eventually breathes out. “Wow.”

I smile, thinking wow is a big understatement. “Yeah,” I murmur. “Wow.”

Erin laughs again, and it’s so sexy that I instantly wish I was there with her, my arm wrapped around her waist and pulling her body against mine as she comes down from this high. I want it to be me making her this way, not just my voice.

Jesus, what is wrong with me? Not only have I not slept with a single other woman since I started this thing up with Erin, but she’s all I’m thinking about too. I jack off to her, I randomly go to Rockport and fuck her, and now, I’ve just had phone sex with her.

And all of it has been amazing.

And I really, really want more of it. A lot more.

Swallowing the words before I blurt them out and completely screw myself to the wall, I say, “I’ll see you in two days, gorgeous. You better be ready.”

And then I hang up before she can say anything, before she realizes what’s going on here, what I’ve just worked out for myself.

I’m completely whipped.

Chapter Two

Present Day – Rockport

Erin

What the hell have I gotten myself into? This is insane. I’m still clutching the phone in one hand, my breathing heavy and my other hand in my panties as I try to sort out exactly what is going on with Ryan and me.

I’m not the relationship type. Not the kind of girl who only sees one guy and gets those butterflies in her stomach and her heart racing, but fuck me if every single time I hear Ryan’s voice, see his face, feels his hands on my body that it doesn’t happen to me.

I haven’t even been interested in anyone else, not like I have a ton of options in this itty bitty town, but even during tourist season, I couldn’t have cared less. After Ryan and I had sex in the restroom at O’Loughlin’s, something in me changed and he was all I could think about. He was and is the only guy I want.

I wanted to screw with him after our ladies’ room tryst because I assumed he’d be like all the others. He’d fuck me and walk away. When I left him in there, that shocked look on his face, I knew I couldn’t get pregnant. I was on the pill, but saying it left me in control and him looking stupid. But then he surprised me by showing up at my door to apologize and I realized he wasn’t like all the other guys.

Strangely enough, he makes me so angry at times that I want to slap him across the face, but he challenges me in ways I never imagined and I love everything about it. The mix of emotions is totally foreign to me, yet completely exhilarating.

Having him inside me, having him fuck me, is the most amazing feeling. He completely satisfies my every need, every desire that builds inside me, but I find myself craving him even more as soon as it ends. I think the worst part is that when he is inside me, in that moment of utter blissful confusion, I’d do anything he asked, and unfortunately for me, that feeling is flooding my life outside of having sex with him. I feel like I would be anything he wanted me to be, do anything just to be what he needs; just to keep him in my life. Somehow it’s perfection and torture all at the same time.

“Ryan, you beautiful asshole,” I mutter, doing anything but hating him.

I can feel myself fading and eventually letting my guard down with him. Knowing this façade I have in place can only last so long, I worry about what might come. Being happy with Ryan can only last so long. It’s the way it always goes. Guys like Ryan don’t stay faithful for long, and I’m not certain I want to go through that again. Yet still I find myself drawn to him, and there are moments I almost don’t care if he breaks my heart.

My phone rings and like a crazy ass, I fumble it in my hand and drop it on the floor. Lunging for it in the hopes that it’s once again Ryan, because in addition to the awesome sex we have, I actually enjoy talking to him.

Our conversations are easy and he makes me laugh with his smart mouth and witty comebacks. I have never found someone who infuriates me and makes me feel so alive before. Debating everything from politics to how to pronounce fudgesicle with him. It always ends with one of us angry, leading to a far too intense session of fucking.

I shake my head as my phone continues to ring, my torso hanging off the bed as I grab for it.

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