Jules looked so contented and relaxed, Mercy wanted to smack him upside the head. Part Time Lovers had been frantically busy through September and October, but Jules swam through it as if it had been a warm pool in Hawaii, smiling all the while.
She saw Shea’s influence in everything Jules did, his limbs loose, his shoulders low, his face calm and almost always with a slight lift to his lips. While she seemed to have spent those months with her heart aching to match her head.
The headache—though it was more pressure than ache—was unrelenting. It had started soon after Rafa returned home. It wasn’t so much about his absence. They’d spoken most days and, for the first time ever, she’d had the most amazing phone sex.
They’d meet in bed—her in Vancouver, Rafa in Madrid. Mercy was spending piles of money on lingerie no one got to see except her because they’d decided to do without Skype. She was learning how to describe that lingerie, taking notes each time she was in one of her favorite stores, having the salesclerk give her the spiel, so that Rafa could see it and feel it as well as she did.
They alternated time zones so that it was late evening either in Spain or on the west coast of Canada. It wasn’t always easy, but it was always worth it.
Rafa had sent her photos of his bedroom, king size bed, dark wood, stone walls and floor. All the linens were red. They laughed together at that. He’d been in her bedroom, splendidly naked and aroused, but he’d asked her to do the same.
“All I remember is you,” he said when he made the request, “your hair falling around your shoulders and your mouth on my cock. The room? Pah. Your body was everything. You were all I saw.”
Mercy readied herself, didn’t matter whether it was day or night. It was the same thing each time. She poured her favorite Sensual Amber bubble bath into the soaker tub, lit candles, put on the tango music Rafa had sent to drive her wild. She closed the curtains and stepped into the hot, scented water. Thirty minutes later, her body humming with anticipation, she toweled off and headed for the bedroom.
There, too, were candles. The bedding was folded back and the drapes drawn. She dressed herself in the lingerie—this night a brilliant turquoise to remind of the summer nights she’d spent with Rafa. The silk cami caressed her skin, just touching her thighs and allowing a peek at the matching thong when she moved.
No music now. All she needed was the sound of Rafa’s voice. The phone rang as she settled onto the sheets.
“Mercy,” he growled, his voice as close as if he were in the bed with her.
“Rafa,” she sighed. “Are you naked?” At his yes, she told him what she wore so he could tell her what to do with it, so he’d know how she looked, what she’d done to dress herself up for him.
Rafa ordered, and Mercy touched her lips as he’d asked, drawing her fingers into her mouth, listening to the sound of his voice telling her what he wanted.
Her breasts next—licking her fingertips to moisten them before sliding them over the silk on her nipples, first one and then the other, each stroke sending shivers over her body and thrills to her pussy. She felt the silk between her legs dampen, her pussy clenching in anticipation long before Rafa allowed her to touch her labia or her clitoris.
She described everything she did to Rafa, her husky voice and the words it spoke part of the excitement, the allure of this lovemaking.
Listening to his voice, she could imagine the slide of his hand on his cock, hear the groans as he got closer and closer to the edge.
“Take off your clothes,” he demanded. “Slowly. Use the silk as if it were my hands touching you.”
Mercy did as he told her, each slide of the turquoise silk soft and sweet and sexy, as if Rafa were there in bed with her. She lay naked on the bed, yearning for his presence, but also unbearably aroused just by the sound of his voice.
“Rafa,” she whispered, knowing he’d heard even the barely audible slide of the silk on her skin through the expensive speakerphone she’d bought for their meetings. She forced herself to think of them as meetings so that the time they spent apart felt more manageable.
“Rafa,” she whispered again. “Take the lube and squeeze some onto your hand.”
She did the same, though she used, unnecessarily, some clitoral stimulation gel. She was ready to explode with the very first touch. Both of them had learned to draw out the foreplay, touching and talking until they were both so close that they could come together.
“Your cock is in my mouth,” she whispered. “Your balls are in my hands. I’m sucking you, my tongue sliding along the vein that’s throbbing for me. Do you want to fuck me?”
“Madre de Dio, Mercy. You are killing me. Take that dildo we bought together and put it in your cunt. Slowly, just an inch at a time. Sowly as I am using my hand. Roll your clit between the fingers of your other hand. But lightly. Don’t squeeze until I tell you to.”
Body trembling, Mercy listened to Rafa as he groaned with each breath, as she listened to his breathing quicken and imagined his hand on his beautiful cock.
“Rafa?” she cried.
“Now,” he growled.
Squeezing her clit between two fingers, Mercy’s orgasm ripped through her as if it were endless, Rafa’s shout of release prolonging her tremors until she could bear no more.
She lay in her bed, Rafa’s voice in her ear as he talked her into sleep, the low, sexy rumble the last thing she heard as her eyes closed.
God, she thought, every time they got better at this. If they kept on, by the time she met him at the airport for Christmas, they’d only have to take one look at each other and they’d spontaneously combust right there in the arrivals hall.
Due Out November 16th from Cobblestone Press