Why the fuck hasn't he called me!

I check my watch again as if he was supposed to call at a certain time, or somehow it now magically has a countdown clock of the total number of hours since I heard from him. He asked if he could see me in a couple of days—it's been almost a week and not a single peep!

God, it was so hard sending Charlie out of the house on New Year's Day. All I wanted to do was get back to the part of the story we started the night before. But with my shitty luck, my body put a period on that with a big-ole Capital P. Two freaking days early! No cramps, no warning, just the distinctive feeling you're about to ruin sheets. What the actual fuck! A tampon was not what I had planned on inserting that morning.

Damn it. Why did I drink so much?

After a quick shower, coffee in hand, and my headache slightly subsiding, I found Sleeping Beauty, eyes still closed on his side, my black kitties on the foot of the bed assessing him. He was so dang cute, peacefully sleeping.

My eyebrows drew together, trying far harder than should be necessary to produce a memory as to why I'd been putting up such a fight with him. Inky and Onyx turned to scowl at me at that exact moment as if to question my dull-headedness.

Ah, yes. He's annoying as sin—or was he? And he's got player written all over him—or does he?

Huh. My forehead tightened again. Maybe I didn't know quite what I thought of him anymore.

Beans rubbed his orange head on my leg, diverting my attention from my train wreck of thoughts. Then he waddled up to the bed and, with an astounding leap for his size, landed on the mattress. Charlie murmured and rolled onto his back. Beans looked up at me with almost a sly smile as if to say... but is there any harm in having some fun with him, Leigh? And then he proceeded to knead his crotch area, which was a sure sign that he approved of this one.

No, I concluded. I can keep him at bay. Just one of my no-feelings, just sex sorta things. One of us will get bored eventually, and that will be the end of it. But before it ends... I want to get a piece of this American cutie pie.

So I turned him out straight after breakfast, leaving him wanting more with a smoldering kiss he wouldn't soon forget about, and to be honest... neither would I.

I told him I would need space, but fuck, not even forty-eight hours later, I was already craving contact with him again. I practically had to repeat the mantra: I will not call him. I will wait till he calls me.

WTF! He's the over-eager one, not me! What kind of example would I be setting if I texted him the very next day? He'd start calling all the time and suffocating me. Or worse... what if I looked like the desperate one out of the two of us? What if he's the one that gets turned off? The urge to text with him was strong, but the possible flip in power was a cost too high to bear.

Now it's five days later, ten minutes past eleven at night, and I'm doom scrolling on my phone in my room instead of sleeping, watching too many thirst trap videos, and thinking all too often about a certain someone who could quench that thirst. I flip my phone off and throw it face down on the sofa, running my hands over my face.

I can't feel like this! Not about Chicken Dance!

I just haven't gotten laid in a while. That's what this is. If I hadn't gotten so drunk on New Year's, then Charlie would have fucked these needy feelings right out of me. I'd be feeling good and back in control.

He's got some nerve making me wait like this! An ill temper percolates through my system, slowly gathering mass, forming into a ball, drip by drip.

He better have a good reason, like he lost his phone or died.

As soon as I think it, I regret it and try to unthink it. But what if he did die? What if he got in a car accident? What if his plane crashed? My thoughts quickly spiral to detailed and gory scenarios, all of which end in me going to his funeral.

Damn it. Life is precious, and you just have to seize the moments when you have them. Before I knew it, I grabbed my phone and texted him.

Me: Charlie?

I pause, not knowing what else I could or should say, and give up and hit send. I clasp the phone tightly, trying to channel to strange forces of the universe like Sydney might do.

"Oh, I wish I had spent his last New Year's Day with him instead of pushing him out the door. Please call me Charlie. Don't be dead."

Ping!

It worked!

Chicken Dance: Hey Beautiful. I was just thinking about you.

You think I'd be happy he was alive, and I am, but it is swiftly flattened by my anger ball rushing up from the depths it was gathering in.

Me: Why aren't you dead?!

On rereading, I realize maybe I shouldn't have texted that right off the bat, but I already feel lighter. And a smile spreads over my cheeks.

Chicken Dance: ??!!

The poor boy is obviously confused, so I spell it out for him.

Me: You told me you'd take me out again in a few days. It's been five, and I haven't even heard from you yet. I thought you must have died.

Chicken Dance: I thought you said you needed space?

My shoulder tense. Of course, he'd use that against me. The anger ball gathers more strength.

Me: I do! I just thought you'd have at least called by now.

Chicken Dance: It's only been a few days, Leigh. But I'm flattered that you missed me :)

Ugh! He is infuriating!

Me: Expecting a call and missing someone are not the same.

Chicken Dance: Well, either way, we're talking now. Let me make it up to you.

That's more like it.

Me: What do you have in mind?

Chicken Dance: You've been front and center in my mind all day. How about I tell you a little about what I'd like to do next time I see you?

Me: Go on.

Chicken Dance: Well, I'm planning to take you on a date you'll never forget—take you to new heights, something that will check all your boxes and push your boundaries.

My eyes light up at the sound of that, and a thrilling shiver runs through me.

Me: What is it?

Chicken Dance: I can't tell you yet. It's a surprise.

If there is one thing he should know about me, it's that I can't stand being caught off guard by an event. What if I don't like it? What if I'm not dressed appropriately? What if there is lots of small talk with people I don't know? I need to know what it is and be prepared.

Me: Charlie, I hate surprises. Tell me.

Chicken Dance: Nope. Sorry. It's classified.

Me: Charles. I'm not joking. I need to know, or I'm not coming.

Chicken Dance: Oh? Well, I'd really like to make you come this time, Leigh...

A breathy puff of air escapes my lungs. A flush warms my cheeks, quickly morphing into excitement to see what else he might respond with.

Chicken Dance: But don't you like to be teased just a little? Are you sure you can't wait for my reveal?

My heart rate is picking up as I hover my hands over the phone, ready to type a response, when another message comes in that takes my breath away.

Chicken Dance: Like a good girl?

Fuck yes. I am completely giddy now, and I don't even know why. Well, shit, I do know why. The promise of being called a good girl while we do all the bad things. Let's see if he'll play more. I go to my bedroom and close the door. Quickly going into my contacts, I edit his name from Chicken Dance to Charlie. I'm no longer a fan of the association.

Me: I don't know, Sir. I'm pretty bratty. You might have to come here and make me.

Charlie: I'd love to, baby.

Dopamine erupts in my body and floods it with a warm tingle. My brain checks out, and my hormones take over.

Me: Say dirty things to me.

A few seconds go by, and my stomach swirls up tight. Shit. Did I go too far too soon?

Charlie: Alright. Just for you. ;)

I breathe a sigh of relief and the giddy feeling returns.

Charlie: Imagine me showing up at your house right now, pushing you up against a wall, kissing you deeply, dominating your mouth with mine.

I bite my lip.

Me: Go on.

Charlie: I'd move to kiss your neck, trailing down to your breasts, gently kissing and nipping at your soft, sensitive skin.

Me: Dirtier Charlie. Don't be shy.

Charlie: Okay...Tugging down your clothes, I tease your nipples with my tongue and teeth.

Me: That's better. Keep going.

I wiggle down the bed as heat travels to pool between my legs.

Charlie: I'd take my time undressing you, touching you all over, tracing your every curve, making you shiver.

Me: Mmm, yes.

Charlie: Is that okay? Do you want more?

That's sweet that he wants to check in, but I don't want him to stop.

Me: Yes. Be assertive. Keep going.

Charlie: Say please, and I'll reward you. ;)

Me: Please.

Charlie: Say please, Sir.

God yes! My nipples stand at attention.

Me: Please, Sir.

Charlie: Good girl.

My heartbeat races at the words when suddenly my phone rings in my hands, making me jump. It's Charlie. I pick it up right away.

"Hello?"

Charlie's voice is ragged and urgent, "I can't keep typing. It's too much. I need to hear you."

"Okay," I say breathlessly.

I can hear him pant twice, then he clears his throat, and his voice drops an octave, "Put your fingers between your legs. I want you to touch yourself while I say this next bit."

My body sings in response. Gladly. "Yes, Sir."

"Fuck, it turns me on so much hearing you say that! How wet are you right now?

My fingers slide in effortlessly. "I'm soaking."

"Fuck, I'm so hard for you! Okay. I don't want you to respond or add anything—just close your eyes. Imagine me slowly kissing down your stomach closer to your beautifully wet and eager pussy. I'm so hungry to taste you."

God, hearing him talk this way is driving me crazy. A delighted sigh passes my lips, and I hear a low, devious laugh on the other end of the line.

"I'd hold you down and tease you with my tongue, exploring your sensitive skin and circling your delicious clit, around and around, till you're absolutely throbbing with anticipation."

"Mmm," I moan as I copy his words with my fingers.

"I'd take my time, drinking you in, working you up, till I finally give your bud the sweet hot attention it deserves, sucking you fervidly while my fingers dive inside, feeling how slick and wet you are."

Charlie keeps going, his deep voice saying all the right things, and I feel the pressure of an orgasm building.

"You beg for more, and I oblige, flicking my tongue faster and pounding into you with my fingers harder. I'd be all over you like a wildfire, my desire to fuck you burning dangerously hot."

I grunt, feeling the edge of the release, and I hear Charlie's breathing quicken.

"I'd make sure you felt my urgency, your body aching for every inch of me."

"I'm close. Push me over the edge," I beg him.

"Okay, gorgeous, you trust me, right?"

"Uh-huh," I whimper.

"You'll be my good little girl when I take you on your surprise?"

"Mmhm..." I murmur, not totally paying attention to any words but the good girl part and his authoritative tone while I play with myself.

"What was that?" he demands like a drill sergeant.

"Yes, Sir," I say in a heady pre-orgasmic trance.

"Fuck, yes, he groans. "Oh, baby, I can't wait to feel your tight body wrapped around my dick. I'm going to take you so good you'll be screaming my name."

"Yes, Charlie," I moan. "Fuck me!"

"Okay, you asked for it. I flip you over and pull your ass up in the air and spank your pussy once for giving me orders, but I also know you like it." I hear him clear his throat and ask in an unsure voice, "Do you like it?"

"Mmm. I do."

I hear him swallow over the phone. "Good. Then I grab your hair and pull you up against me, both of us on our knees as I guide my throbbing cock slowly into your hot wet pussy, taking every inch of me so good and deep."

"God. Don't stop."

"Holding you tight, I thrust hard into you, making you scream with pleasure, then I bend you back over and continue to pound you harder and faster. I reach around and find your clit, stroking it as I fuck you. You're so goddamn tight and sexy I can't get enough."

"I'm going to cum, Charlie," I cry.

"Fuck Leigh, you're are making me lose control! I rail into you, blowing us both apart. Oh shit!"

I cry out, feeling a wave of pleasure wash over me, and I drop the phone as lose myself in the sensation, melting into a puddle on the bed. 

https://youtu.be/KFq4E9XTueY