finding Reese.: a SAFELIGHT novel vol.2 (SAFELIGHT Series) (27 page)

“Pussies,” Kathryn declares. She crouches beside us and says, “Again.”

I wonder if she’s gone blind, given how out of breath I am, but the glint in her eye is unmistakable. I rise, and help Jackson up. And then, true to her word, Kathryn beats us to a dancing pulp for a good three hours before Jackson can’t take it anymore.

As I’m getting my purse from the locker room, I see a couple of text messages from Stryder. With all the excitement of learning how to dance, time has flown by. I feel guilty for not checking my phone sooner; the last thing I want Stryder thinking is that I’m purposely ignoring his messages.

I smile at his last message and quickly reply.

My phone chimes.

I nod and smile as I type.

I grimace at his question because as much as I don’t like keeping secrets from Stryder, I want to surprise him when he gets back. If I tell him what I’m up to, then I’ll certainly ruin that plan.

I put the phone in my purse with a sigh, and lean against the wall, facing the large picture window. The reminder that someone out there across the ocean is missing and loving me fills my heart with joy. There’s only a few more weeks until Stryder returns, and then we’re off somewhere for our first vacation as a couple. I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, and walk towards Jackson, Kathryn, and Gregg.

“You ready?” I ask Jackson, dying to grab something to eat, and to shower. After today’s exertions, I’m feeling less than fresh.

“Yeah,” he smiles, and wraps his arm around my shoulder as we leave the studio. “You okay there, Cat? You look off . . .”

I shake my head and return his smile. “Yeah, I’m just tired. I’m worried about walking tomorrow. Going up and down the stairs? I’m shuddering at the thought.”

“Yeah, you’ll be hurting like a bitch tomorrow. Kathryn knows how to manage these things, though, so tomorrow it will be lines, making sure your arm and hand placements are fluid and stuff. You looked great today, Cat. Jupiter’s jaw will fall to the fucking floor when he sees you. The jive is ballsy, toots. I’m proud.”

“Thank you, Jax. It’s a lot of fun, but holy shit! What a workout. Come on, let’s get takeout. I need to eat, shower, and get in bed.”

Jackson smiles and then nods. “Agreed!”

After grabbing food from a local joint and enjoying dinner in front of the TV, I excuse myself for the evening. After a long hot shower I dress in my favorite t-shirt and panties, and crawl into bed. I don’t even bother to turn on the television. As my eyelids grow heavy, my phone begins ringing to the sound of Amos Lee’s “Violin.” I sit up in bed, and in a groggy voice I answer,

“Hello?”

The rich timbre of Stryder’s voice floods the line, making my insides heat with a yearning I never thought possible. “Hi, baby.”

A few yawns escape my mouth. “It’s so nice to hear your voice, Stud.”

“You sound demolished. I’ll let you go, baby. You need your rest.”

“NO!” I half-whine, half-yell. He laughs, and I try to compose myself. There’s a lulling ache in my insides that is getting deliciously worse with each passing second. I swear, even the sound of his breathing is enough to make me want to climb into the phone and kiss the hell out of him. “Don’t hang up. I want to hear your voice . . .”

“Catalina, are you hot and bothered right now?” Stryder asks wickedly, and my nipples harden at the bluntness of his words.

“Yes,” I breathe, and run my fingers through my hair.

“I want to kiss every square inch of your body . . . starting from your forehead, all the way down to the tips of your toes.” His words make me melt against the blankets.

I exhale loudly, “Oh, God.”

“After I’m done kissing your body, I’ll let my fingers explore the softness of your skin; grabbing here, scratching there . . . marking you with my need.”

“What else . . . ?” I challenge, my fingers stroking the length of my neck.

“After I’m done tasting your amazing mouth, I’ll kiss your incredible breasts, nipping and teasing your nipples with my tongue, and when I’m done I’ll squeeze them softly because I know you like when I do that.”

With my right index finger, I trace circles around the hardened nipple poking through my t-shirt. My body shudders in response, and a satisfied sigh escapes my lips. Through the phone I hear a rustling sound followed by a sensual groan.

“Are you touching yourself, Catalina?” Stryder purrs. My legs involuntarily buckle against the bed, and I tuck my fingers underneath the hem of my shirt. As soon as they make contact with the sweltering skin of my abdomen, I moan.

“Yes,” I whisper, both mortified and excited.

“Good, baby. By now your pussy is aching for some attention, am I right?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I’m kissing and licking your hipbone. Your skin is so soft to the touch, Cat,” Stryder mumbles, and I close my eyes imagining my hands tangled in his obsidian hair, and his hazel eyes occasionally rising to meet my own lust-filled ones. “Take your panties off,” he commands, and the pang of my need for him makes me comply in double-time. “As soon as I hang up, get off the bed, and wait for my call in the bathroom,” he commands gruffly.

And just like that, the line goes dead. Feeling adventurous, I do exactly as I’m asked. As I walk into the bathroom, I feel a breeze tickling my bare bottom. Stryder only asked me to take off my panties, and while pacing on the bamboo flooring of the en-suite bathroom, I debate whether or not to take off my black t-shirt as well. My cell rings, and I gasp at the request blinking on the screen.

Stryder Martynus would like to Video Chat. Swipe to answer.

With trembling fingers, I accept, and Stryder’s gorgeous face appears on the screen.

His skin is tanner than I’ve ever seen it, and it suits him incredibly well. His eyes twinkle and when I look closely, they are full of heat and mischief.

“Hi!” I squeak.

“Hey, you,” Stryder greets me, his voice deep and seductive. “Now, where were we?”

I swallow hard, confident my cheeks are the color of my favorite lipstick: fire engine red.
“Panties off,” I reply quickly, and cover my face with my free hand.

His chuckles are music to my ears; I uncover my face but keep my eyes closed.

“Open your eyes, Catalina.” When I do, I see his panty-combusting smile filling the screen. “Let’s save the pleasantries for later. Climb into the bathtub.” With a furrowed brow and an embarrassed smile, I do as I’m told. Once settled in the bathtub, I grab a fluffy towel to use as a headrest.

“Put your phone near the faucet to where I can see all of you laying down in the bathtub.” I reach forward and position my phone at the perfect angle. “Now stand up and take your t-shirt off.”

My body is humming with anticipation. I rest my phone on the ledge of the waterworks station, and when I have it where I want it, I stand. As I’m taking off my t-shirt, Stryder groans loudly. Throwing my shirt on the floor, I sit down in the bathtub and frown at the screen. “What’s wrong?”

Stryder smiles. His eyes are small, his upper teeth continuously grazing his bottom lip. “You stood up and your amazing pussy was smack-dab in front of the camera. If I was there right now, I’d lick you without restraint or care. I want to taste your wetness, have it dribble down my chin, and feel your-not-so-delicate clenches as you come in my mouth.”

I inhale sharply, and close my eyes at his words. My core tightens, and my legs involuntarily sag with each consonant and vowel dripping from his naughty mouth. I reopen my eyes, and they widen when I see him laying on his back on what I presume is a couch. One of his hands is wrapped around his hard cock, stroking it gently, and the other is cupping his teardrop shaped balls. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve seen in weeks. My body aches with his absence; this is the most I’ve missed him since he went away.

“What are you thinking about, Catalina. You’re awfully quiet.”

“I miss you now more than ever, Stryder. I want you here doing all those things you say you want to do, and there’s nothing I’d like more than to reciprocate,” I half-moan, half-whisper.

“If I was there, what would you do to me?”

A part of me feels shy to say this, but fuck it.

“I want to wrap my lips around your cock and suck on it hard. I want to feel your twitches against my tongue, and swallow your taste when you come. I know that won’t be enough for us, so I’ll plant my pussy over your mouth and have you suck my clit until I can’t stand it anymore. And when you’re ready, I want you to sink inside me in one hard, sharp thrust.”

“Fuck . . .” he hisses, his hand stroking his cock faster. “What else, Catalina?”

I let my fingers roam towards my aching, swollen breasts, my fingertips tugging and squeezing my hardened nipples. “I’d ask you to pump into me hard, like my pussy is the last one in the world, and just when you’re about to come I’d like you to pull out. I’ll wrap my tits around your cock and have you come on my chin.”

Stryder stops stroking and sits up on the sofa. Resting both arms on the back of his head, he speaks. “Fuck, Catalina. Of all the things I thought you’d say, that was not what I had in mind.” I sit up in the bathtub and worry my lip. I may have crossed the line. My hands fall to my sides, and the urge to cover myself is overwhelming.

Stryder continues. “I know I love you, Catalina, but now I love you even more. You’re my perfect match. Don’t shy away from me, baby, and stop thinking too much. I wish I was there to fulfill your desires and make them my own.”

My eyes glisten, and I close them because I’m certainly feeling his absence. There’s nothing I’d like more than to have him hold me right now. Sure, the sexy stuff is nice, but the fulfilling warmth of his loving embrace exceeds sexual urges any day of the week.

“Me too,” I whisper as I open my eyes.

“Don’t get sad on me, Cat. Put your hands back on those round breasts and pretend your hands are mine.”

I quickly comply and touch myself. Feeling an ounce of bravery, I give some instructions of my own. “I want you to stroke that cock for me, Stryder . . . nice and steady.”

He responds quickly, his effortless tugs clearly visible on the screen. The sound of his slapping skin heightens my senses; watching my guy pleasuring himself is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. My fingers trail past my breasts, tenderly caressing the barely-there curls beneath my abdomen. I scrape the tender flesh with my fingernails and when my fingertips meet my clit, I can’t help but rub it in endless circles. My breath catches with each movement, and the moment doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh, Cat. If you could see yourself the way I do. You . . . look . . . so . . . hot . . . right . . . now . . .” Stryder grumbles in between tugs, his tempo increasing with each syllable.

His words have quite the effect on me. My fingers quickly grow wetter with each movement, and I tilt my hips up to add pressure where my body craves it most. That borderline feeling that what I’m doing is wrong dissipates. I’m lost in the moment, consumed by pleasure and urged by need, and if this is wrong then by God arrest me and lock me up. I’d do the time happily. Despite the great distances separating us, I feel he’s here, loving me with the force of his entire being, and that thought alone is comforting. As our bodies continue to climb towards nirvana, I mumble my warning.

“I’m there . . .”

Stryder sits up a little, his free hand on the back of his neck while the other strokes his length. “Don’t hold back, baby. I’m there too.”

Just two more brushes of my fingers and I fall apart with him bearing witness. With my eyes closed and my pelvis tilted against the cold porcelain bathtub I cry my pleasure, my voice hoarse and my mouth feeling parched. As I come down from my high, I open my eyes to see Stryder fall apart by the grace of his own hand. With rapid breaths, I sit up in the tub to get a better view of this moment.

Unlike me, he usually doesn’t make much noise, and when we’re together he groans his release into the curve my neck. But tonight he comes loud and hard, his whole body quaking. I can see the rippling effect of his shudders across his sun-kissed skin, his muscles and well-defined lines up front and center for my viewing pleasure. The first thick spurt of his essence lands on his abdominal muscles, and more follow. I watch in awe, my eyes moving upwards to his face. He looks relaxed, yet his eyes are somber−a mirror image of how I feel on the inside.

Yes, instant gratification feels good, but the emptiness that follows can be overwhelming. It’s a fleeting moment of pleasure that morphs into severe loneliness and frustration, and I can tell with a glance that he agrees. I give him a moment to come down from his high before I step out of the bathtub to wash my hands. We exchange no words, just the sounds of our movements echoing in our respective rooms. Dressed and washed up, I pick up my phone and take it with me to bed. I turn on the bedside lamp, and curl underneath the blanket. It’s been several minutes of silence between us, and quite frankly it’s deafening.