Page 76 of Heart Strings
“You’d really rather forget?”
“When it hurt, I wished I could. Didn’t you?”
“No. I’d never let those memories go.”
“ ‘For a bit of warmth, I’d hold on to the burning coal. Better to burn through my palm than let go,’ ” I quote from one of his songs. It had made my chin quiver. When I’d been resenting the love I carried for him, he’d embraced it even when it hurt.
“It’s true.”
“I love the way your voice sounds in it,” I tell him. “Love the bass line of the first track, all heavy and sexy.”
He shoots me a mischievous smile. “You still have your speakers?”
“You know I take my hi-fi seriously.”
“Will you do me a favor? Just…let me try something. I want to touch you.”
“You’re in New York,” I remind him.
“Let me just…” Aidan trails off as he moves out of sight of his web camera. He returns with a guitar and his laptop. “There.”
“There what? What are you up to?”
He leans toward the camera, filling the screen. “It’s an experiment.”
“Okay. Consider my interest piqued.”
“I knew I could appeal to the scientist in you. Connect to this livestream I’m setting up to your speaker.”
I throw him a suspicious look but comply. The sparkle in his eye is too delicious to refuse.
Configuring the Bluetooth takes a minute, then I join his private livestream. “Okay.”
“Now straddle it.”
My eyes widen. “You want me to hump my speaker?”
He laughs. “Kind of? Yes, I do. Lo, please. I want to see if I can pleasure you from here.”
“You know, they make remote vibrators for a reason.”
“Where I’m from, we make do with what we have. Good old County Cork ingenuity.”
“Oh my god.”
“Jaysus, that makes me sound like a right bogger.”
“A little bit,” I tease.
“Come on, now, I want to make you come with my music.”
I gasp at his words. He wants to watch me masturbate to his voice. I have to say, I’m not opposed to an acapella orgasm.
“Isn’t the sound going to be muffled by my…well, by my muff?” I manage to ask through a snicker. There’s no possible way to say that sentence seriously. I squint at the fabric covering the speaker. “I’m putting down a towel.”
“Stop making jokes and let me make you come, dammit.”
Aidan fusses with a mini amp and small microphone for the output. After a couple strums of his guitar, he nods. I watch him through both my computer and FaceTime, from different angles.
