too. As I know it is for him too. I know it from his jagged breathing and hoarse groans when I paint images in his head with my words describing what I’d like to do to him. I was at it at first, but I’m a damn near pro by now.
In the beginning, I thought the phone sex was pointless. What kind of purpose does talking about sex serve? A tiny bit of instant gratification that’s still miles away from the real thing.
But then something magical happened. At right about the third time we spoke, I started feeling wanted in the way I’ve never felt wanted before. And I’ve been feeling like that ever since.
Like I’m floating on a soft, fluffy cloud that’s actually his need and want and desire for me and only me. If he just wanted to get his dick wet, he’d be doing that with someone closer to him. Someone he doesn’t need to work so hard for.
My anticipation of the day, or night that we’ll be together again is so great and so thick, it’s exploding out of me all the time. I hardly think about anything else, just how much I need him, how much I want him to come here and make all those words we spoke into each other's ears reality.
A schoolgirl crush, that’s what this is. I think. I never got the chance to have one of those.
I just hope it’s not all only in my mind and as flimsy and insubstantial as the soft white clouds I’m floating on.
Colt
Cross has been sending guys out to try and gather info on what’s happening for the past four days. I am not one of them.
“He’s only sending those he knows can handle themselves,” Blaze informs me smugly as we’re smoking near the space where we park our bikes. He was sent out this afternoon, and I waited here for him to get back like a damn little kid. Then I had to wait some more while he went to make his report to Cross.
All that’s left of today’s sun is a bright yellow swipe across the horizon, and it’s growing colder by the second. Cicadas are making a goddam racket and I have no idea how enough of them can live in the sparse, dried-up bushes around here to make this much noise.
“I know I fucked up, you don’t have to keep reminding me,” I snap at him. “And for your information, I’d do exactly the same thing all over again.”
It’s not even a lie. Even just talking on the phone with Brenda—sometimes five times a day—feels more real than anything I’ve ever shared with a woman. Not that I’m not fucking aching to do all those things we just talk about to her for real.
It’s not just the sex talk either. I can tell her things, things even Blaze doesn’t know about me. And she was just telling me about her mom and her stepdad last night. I got the feeling she never told anyone that story yet, which includes me, since we were rudely interrupted by Blaze coming back from another VIP mission Cross sent me on. She didn’t take it up again today, saying it’s best left in the past, anyway. Everything I told her was best left in the past too, but I didn’t say that. Didn’t want to make her feel bad. I can’t even remember the last time I cared enough about a woman to care about how my words made her feel.
“So can you tell me anything about what’s happening?” I ask, not expecting a good answer, or even an answer of any kind, since he’s been very hush-hush about it. “Or when we’ll finally be free again?”
I’m not the only one wondering this. Most of the brothers who are locked in here day after day and told nothing are starting to ask it too. Not too loudly though, since no one really believes Cross isn’t looking out for all of us with his order to stay put.
Predictably, Blaze is just looking at me and shaking his head instead of answering. He shrugs and I shrug and then we go back to smoking in silence.
“You might use this downtime to reflect on things,” Blaze suggests with a smirk. “You’ve made a bunch of mistakes lately.”
“Hey, Colt!” Ace shouts, sticking his head out the main door of the bunker. “Come. Cross wants a word.”
I basically snap to attention and turn to start walking.
Blaze flashes me a