Page 6 of When You're Gone
Listening to his wife orgasm through the phone was doing nothing to tame the rock-hard boner that was currently pulsating against the crotch of his pants. He was going to have to cool down big time before he headed back to the table.
“You good, beautiful?” he asked huskily when she finally went quiet on the line.
“So good,” she sighed between soft little whimpers. He knew those sounds. He loved those sounds. Those were the sighs she let out each time the muscles of her pussy clenched around his dick when he was still buried deep inside her as she came down from climax.
“I wish I could return the favor,” she lamented.
“Yeah. Me too. You have no idea.” He adjusted himself again in vain. Hoping his boner would retreat while they were still on the phone was a waste of energy. “But I’ll be home next weekend, and you can return the favor then.”
“Oh yes,” she crooned. “I’m literally counting down the days, Ev. When you’re home, you’re mine.”
“I better get back to my meeting before Jonathan sends a search party for me. Get some sleep. Text me in the morning, okay?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. Goodnight, beautiful.”
He ended the call, but his phone vibrated in his hand before he could even pocket it.
Jake: Bro. I’m drunk AF in your basement and can hear your wife screaming upstairs. Safe to assume that’s your doing? Or do I need to run up there and check on her?
Shit. He hadn’t realized she had company. And she really had been loud tonight.
Rhett: Guilty. Don’t you dare go up there now. She’s probably already asleep.
Jake: I’m just trying to look out for her, bro. Don’t get bossy with me. Sounds like you already got that out of your system tonight.
He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. Not only had he voluntarily blue-balled himself, but he was just realizing they’d accidently put on a show, too. If Jake was crashing in the basement, he wasn’t alone. The idea of Fielding Haas listening to his wife come made Rhett’s blood pressure spike.
He let out a long exhale, steadied his breathing, and forced his mind to move past the resentment trying to rear its head. Tori was safe, happy, and satisfied. Tucked in and most likely already sound asleep in their bed. He’d be home with her for her birthday next weekend. She was okay. He was okay.
He pushed off the wall and stalked toward the men’s restroom, needing another minute to cool down before he returned to the dullest business dinner he’d ever had to suffer through. He just had to get through next week, then he could go home to his wife.
Chapter three
Tori
“VictoriaThompson!”anunidentifiedfuckboy screamed from the kitchen. Almost all the guys who lived at the Valet House had taken to calling her by her full name, especially when they were drunk or excited or up to no good, which was pretty much all the time. She laughed and missed the bumper by a long shot.
She side-eyed Fielding while taking another swig of her White Claw. “You texted him and told him to distract me, didn’t you?”
He slapped his hand over his heart in mock-outrage. “I don’t even know who that is! But I’m not mad about the assist.” He grinned before lining up his next shot, which banked off the bumper before sinking into the hole with perfect precision. “It sounded like Anwar. He had to work tonight, so he must just be getting home.”
Saturday nights at the Valet House had become a regular part of her routine over the last several months. She used to avoid these parties like the plague. Now watching Fielding and his roommates drink each other under the table and hit on party girls was one of her favorite forms of weekend entertainment. It sure as hell beat sitting home alone.
When things got too rowdy—which usually happened around eleven when the eager to please sorority girls from Holt University started arriving six or seven to a car—they would head downstairs. The basement was technically Dempsey’s room and strictly off limits to everyone else. But Dem let them escape down here to play Xbox or bumper pool so they could enjoy the party in small doses throughout the night.
She lined up another shot, aiming longer than necessary thanks to the nice buzz she had going now. She banked her intended target off a bumper and strategically positioned the ball for her next shot.
“Nice one, Wendybird.” Dempsey jogged down the stairs, lifting his black V-neck work shirt over his head in the process. Fielding rolled his eyes at the nickname, but she didn’t hate it. Sometimes she did feel like Wendy, taking care of all the lost boys under this roof.
“Is Jake with you?” she asked as Dempsey made his way over to his en suite bathroom.
“Nah, he said he needed to finish the order for Monday before he could leave. I bet he’ll be at least another hour. I’m gonna shower, then I call next game.”
Tori nodded and chewed on the corner of her bottom lip. She was starting to worry that working seventy hours a week was Jake’s new default instead of a temporary necessity like he insisted.
“Victoria Thompson!”
