Page 10 of Late Night Talking
I switch on my vibrator, and Finn stops breathing. I thought that might do the trick. I press the vibrator between my legs and immediately emit a whimper. “Oh, God,” I breathe, settling it right over my clit.
“Fuck, is that your vibrator?” Finn says in my ear.
I nod, half out of my mind with lust, before I realize he can’t see me. “Yes,” I gasp out. “But it’s not enough. It’s not you.”
“No,” he says, his voice rough. “It’s not. There’s nothing on this Earth that could make you come as good as my mouth and my fingers and my dick.”
I sob, feeling a little desperate. I would give anything for him to be here with me, or for me to be there with him, and I take a deep breath, trying to focus. “If I was there,” I tell him, the way I used to when he would call me from London, all needy and aroused, “I would get on my knees for you. I would open my mouth, and I would let you fuck my throat as deep as you wanted.”
My words are getting me off just as much as I know they are him. I can hear the hasty slide of skin on skin as he jerks off, and I imagine the heavy length of him in his own hand, feeling the muscles in my pussy tighten and tighten, until I buck my hips to try and relieve the pressure.
“Oh, fuck, I’m close,” he says through his teeth. “If you were here, would you let me come in your mouth?”
I’m close, too, but I want to hear him. I want to listen to him fall apart before I do. “I wouldn’t waste a single drop.”
Just like I knew it would, this pushes him over the edge. I listen to his breath as he pants his way through it, the tiny strangled sounds he makes in the back of his throat. I imagine him spilling into his hand, the image burned into my brain as I throw my head back and almost drop my phone as I come.
When it’s over, we’re both breathing hard, like we just raced each other in a one-hundred-yard dash.
“You’ll be with him tonight,” Finn says when he’s finally caught his breath. I’m still boneless against the sheets that smell like him and us and everything we did last night, but my muscles tense when he says this. He’s not asking. He already knows.
“Yes,” I say, the word pulled out of me by force. I know this isn’t what either of us wants, but we have to do this my way.
“Think of me,” he says, and it takes me a second to realize he’s not talking about sex. His voice is wistful and dejected. He’s talking about my heart. Maybe, somewhere deep inside himself, he still thinks there’s a chance that Ethan could change my mind.
“I will,” I say, trying to convey to him that there’s no way that could happen. It’s all too late. “Always.”
He’s quiet for a long time, and I wait for him to speak. I don’t want to be the first one to say it. “Goodbye, Devin. As soon as he’s gone in the morning, I’ll be waiting. Meet me at the casino.”
“Okay,” I whisper. “Bye, Finn.” We hang up, and I suddenly feel very unsatisfied.
Chapter Eight
It feels bizarre to even be here. Ethan and I are sitting on his couch, watching a sitcom on Netflix, and I’ve never felt more deceptive in my life. In my head and in my heart, Ethan and I are over. Everything I have belongs to Finn. But I don’t want to dump him just before he has to get on a plane and go talk to important people in California. Do I have every intention of fucking Finn’s brains out while Ethan is gone? Yes. But I don’t want to be cruel and rip his heart out before he even goes.
So, I pretend to be okay with it when Ethan puts his arm around me and pulls me close to him. I listen to the sound of his heart and try to keep my entire body still as my phone vibrates on the coffee table. I know it could be a text from Bonnie, but I also know it could be a text from Finn, and I want to read it so bad, the tips of my fingers are tingling.
We watch the rest of an episode, and then Ethan slides his hand down over my ass. At first, I think he’s just getting into a comfortable position, but then his fingers tighten on me, and I try to playfully wiggle away.
“What are you doing?” I say through a forced laugh, pulling away from him and trying to retreat to my side of the couch.
“I thought that much was clear,” Ethan says, crawling across the couch until he’s on top of me, covering all of me with his body. “I’m going away for almost a week.” He leans down to press his mouth to mine, and I hold my breath as he does. “I want to be inside you all night,” he says, and it takes all of my willpower not to laugh. Ethan has never lasted more than ten minutes, much less all night. We tried to go for a marathon fuckfest about two weeks into our relationship, and all I got out of the deal was chafing.
“I’m not really in the mood,” I say, keeping my tone light as I try to slide out from underneath him. “I’m actually pretty tired. Maybe I should just head home.”
Ethan grabs me around the waist and pushes me back down onto the couch, settling between my splayed thighs. “What are you talking about?” he says with a goofy smile on his face. “You’re just going to send me off to California with a dick that hasn’t been touched in over a week?”
I guess it has been that long, but I don’t care. I’m not having sex with him. Not just because of Finn, even though he’s definitely a huge part of it. But because I don’t want to. Having Finn between my legs again reminded me of what I need, what I’ve been denying myself for the last few months: sex with someone I actually connect with. Sex where I get to have just as many orgasms, if not more, than the person I’m fucking. Sex where someone is listening to me and talking to me and making me feel alive and wanted.
I’m never going to get that with Ethan, and I honestly never should have stayed with him after our first time, when he kissed me for all of thirty seconds before whipping out his dick and asking for a blowjob. I wanted him back then because he was nice to me, and I was tired of being alone. But even if Finn walked away right now, I still wouldn’t have sex with Ethan again.
“Yeah, sorry,” I say, even though I’m not sorry. I try to gently shove him off of me, but he’s bearing down with all of his weight now, holding onto my arms with powerful hands. “I’m really just not in the mood.”
His eyebrows go up, and he shifts until his hand is between my legs, and he starts rubbing. He’s just barely managed to make contact with my labia, but he’s nowhere near my clit. “I can get you in the mood.”
I shove his hand away. “I said no, Ethan. I don’t want to have sex.”
His hand comes around my wrist in a vise grip and pins it to the couch cushion. “Devin,” he says, like I’m a child that needs to be reprimanded. “Come on, you can’t be serious. Just fuck me.”
