The Friend Zone (Game On, #2)(44)

Ivy. Her soft breaths are driving me crazy. And I know, I f*cking know she’s touching herself too.

“Are you wet, honey? Has he made you wet?”

“So wet. Wet and swollen. It’s trickling between my thighs. I hurt. I need…” She makes a little hiccup of sound. “I need…”

“You need him to touch you, baby. Ease that ache. Rub your clit, spread all that slick sweetness around.”

“God.”

“Would he finger you? Would he f*ck you with his fingers? Push them in and out, nice and slow?”

“Yes.”

I lick my lips. “I think he’d have to taste you, honey. I think he’d need that so badly. To know how sweet you truly are.”

“I want him to. I want his mouth there.”

“It is. He’s lapping you up. Making you scream his name.”

“Gray.”

“I know. I know.” I’m barely aware of what I’m saying anymore, only that I need more. The bed squeaks beneath me as I pound myself.

Ivy’s breathless voice is disjointed, hitching over the words. “I… You… He needs to f*ck me. I can’t take it any longer.”

“You want him to sink his cock into you?”

“Yes.”

“Pump into your tight heat like he’d die if he stopped?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, f*ck, he wants that too. He wants it so much he can’t think of anything else.” I’m so hot, I’m leaking come. It weeps over the swollen head, coats my shaft as my fist moves faster, harder.

“I want him to f*ck… Fuck me. Gray…”

And then I hear it. The sweetest f*cking sound ever. A low, keening wail, almost pained but so full of pleasure that the hairs on the back of my neck lift.

Everything is muffled, like she’s trying to stifle the sounds but she can’t. And I’m so attuned to her right now I hear every one of them. I bite my lip and taste blood. Ivy coming.

My chest heaves. Heat licks over my balls, down between my thighs. My ass clenches on the next thrust. “Oh shit. Honey, I’m gonna—”

The orgasm hits at full velocity. I arch up, my hips leaving the bed, my body locked in pleasure. A strangled, broken shout leaves my lips as come lands in hot strips across my abs and chest. My vision goes dark, my hand jerking every last drop of lust and need from my abused cock. And then I fall limp upon the bed, my heart slamming against my ribs.

Jesus.

For a moment I lie there, shaking and damp, f*cking weak as a kitten. Licking my dry lips, I try to get my bearings, the room rocking drunkenly around me. And then I remember. Oh, shit. Ivy. I came harder than I ever have in my life on the phone with Ivy.

Panic punches into my chest, and I lurch up, scrambling for the phone lost amidst the rumpled covers. My ears burn hot, my heart racing. What to say? What will she say?

Hands shaking, I yank free the headphones and lift the phone to my ear. “Iv—” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “Ivy? You… Are you—”

My mouth snaps shut. Because she’s not there. The line is dead.





Thirteen





Gray


I’m home. Which is to say, I’m standing in front of Ivy’s door. I’ve been standing here too long. The neighbors are going to start to wonder what the hell I’m doing. Fuck if I know. My balls are in danger of freezing, and I can’t make myself knock.

We’d had phone sex. I’m almost positive of it. And how messed up is it that I’m not sure? Had she realized I’d jacked off to her breathless voice? Had she hung up before or after I came? I’m not certain. And it’s doing a number on me.

I’m all twitchy and tense. It’s like a false start. Am I going to get called for stepping over the line before the snap? Or is the fact that she enjoyed it permission enough to let this transgression slide?

Because there is one thing I do know. She got off on our conversation too. I heard those little strangled whimpers she’d made. As if she’d tried so hard not to be heard but the orgasm was too strong to fully contain. And oh, sweet hell, just thinking about it has my cold dick heating up.

I know when she opens the door and I see her face, I won’t be able to stop myself from touching her. I don’t want to resist anymore. I want to sink myself into Ivy, surround myself in her warmth and freshness. I want to hear that sound again and discover new sounds, make her lose control, shout my name.

My hand shakes as I lift it to knock. Knuckles rapping against the door, my heart pounds out a rhythm that sounds like Ivy, Ivy, Ivy in my head.

I hear her approaching. Mouth dry, I wait. My dick is so hard now, it’s pushing against my jeans with an eagerness that’s staggering. I have never wanted this badly. Never waited this long.

I almost whimper when the door swings open. But then I see her and promptly wilt.

“Mac,” I get out. “Honey, you look…”

“Awful,” she finishes for me with a voice that sounds like a dying frog’s. Pale and pasty, her eyes are swollen and red, her nose running. She makes a pitiful face and then sobs. “I feel like ass.”

I hate sickness. Being around ill people freaks me out now. But I don’t hesitate. I step into the house and pull her close.