Chapter 54: Focus on Me - part 2
Her face went red immediately.
“No.”
“Say it.”
“I’m going to die of embarrassment.”
“Celeste.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and when she spoke, her voice came out far too low.
“I’m… touching myself.”
“Where?”
“Abraham…”
“Where, Celeste?”
She let out a soft moan, her movements speeding up. I watched her body twist slightly, a quiet moan slipping from her lips before she answered.
“On my… Ah… On my pussy.”
My hand tightened around my cock, and I sped up.
“Does it feel good?”
She nodded, biting her lip.
“Say it.”
“Yes… Oh, shit, so good.”
“Are you wet?”
She covered her face with her other hand.
“My God.”
“Celeste.”
“Y… Yes,” she confessed, almost on a moan. “Very…”
I closed my eyes for a second. The sight of her, her voice, her shame slowly breaking apart… all of it hit me like a punch.
“I wish I were there.”
She drew in a deep breath, and her fingers moved faster.
“I wish you were here too.”
“What would you want me to do?”
Celeste turned her face to the side, her hair covering part of her flushed cheek.
“I can’t say it.”
“You can.”
“Abraham…”
“Say it for me. I want to hear it from you.”
She stayed quiet, only the sound of her heavy breathing filling the call for a few seconds, growing more and more ragged. Then her fingers moved faster over her clit, and a moan escaped before the answer.
“I wanted… I wanted your mouth again.”
My whole body went rigid.
“My mouth where?”
She moaned, embarrassed.
“Where it was in the pool.”
“Say it properly.”
“Between my legs,” she blurted, fast, as if the words burned. “I wanted your mouth sucking me again.”
A growl tore from my throat.
“Good girl.”
Her body trembled.
She liked it.
She liked when I talked like that. Liked the orders, the tone, the filth coming out of my mouth.
And knowing that pushed me even closer to the edge.
Fuck, I had definitely lost my mind for good.
“What else?”
“I wanted…” She stopped, struggling to breathe, her hand moving faster and faster. “I wanted us to have gone further, Abraham.”
My vision almost went dark.
“Further how?”
“You know.”
“I want to hear it.”
She let out a needy, desperate sound and arched her body a little on the bed.
“I wanted you… wanted you to… fuck me the way I fantasize about when I look at you…”
Fuck.
The sentence came out clumsy, trembling, almost innocent in the middle of all that desire.
My hand sped up. I was almost there.
“I’d fuck you slowly at first,” I said, not recognizing my own voice. “Just to watch that shame disappear. Then I’d make you beg for more, harder. I’d make you scream…”
Celeste moaned too loud and brought her free hand to her mouth.
“I want to hear you.”
She removed her hand, obeying even as she trembled.
“I’d look at you the whole time,” I continued, my fingers gripping the phone hard. “Until you understood that every inch of you drives me insane. Your thighs, your stomach, your ass, that mouth that never stays still… everything.”
She moved faster, the nightgown riding even higher, her beautiful body out of control on my screen. Now her large breasts swayed slowly for my absolute ruin, fully exposed, free from the fabric…
Fuck, I wanted them in my mouth.
“Abraham… I think I’m going to…”
“Come for me.”
She arched her body, and I went with her.
Pleasure hit me hard, ripping a rough groan from my throat as I came in my hand, my eyes locked on her, on her falling apart at the same time, her mouth open, her body trembling, her fingers still between her legs, her thighs closing and opening as if she didn’t know what to do with the sensation.
For a few seconds, nothing else existed. Not the guilt, not the mission, not the awareness that being with her, so young and completely different from me, was wrong.
Only her.
Celeste.
Breathless, red, too beautiful, collapsed on that bed as if she had just survived a fire.
Then came the silence.
Heavy.
Hot.
Awkward as fuck.
She pulled the nightgown down any way she could and stretched to grab the phone. The camera returned to her face, messy, flushed, her eyes bright and her mouth swollen from biting it so much.
“I…” she started, then stopped. “My God, what did I do?”
I let out a low laugh, still breathless.
“You okay?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, far too honestly. “I think my soul left my body and hasn’t come back yet.”
This time, I truly smiled under the balaclava.
“When I get back, we can do this in person.”
The sentence left my mouth before I could filter it.
It was the desire talking.
The hunger.
The longing for something I never should have started.
Celeste went still.
Her eyes widened a little, but not with fear. With surprise, desire, and maybe even expectation.
“You… you mean that?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but I couldn’t.
A sound cut through the silence.
Loud.
Sharp.
It was the house alarm.
Celeste shot upright in bed, all the color draining from her face.
My blood turned cold.
“Celeste?”
She looked at the door, then at the window. The phone shook in her hand as she got up in a rush, stumbling over the sheet.
“What is that noise?” Her voice came out thin, terrified.
I was already on my feet.
“Stay calm. Go to the window and show me.”
“Abraham…”
“Now, Celeste!”
She ran to the window, pulled the curtain aside with a trembling hand, and looked out. From that angle, I could see her face from below, and I watched her eyes widen, watched her expression change.
Terror.
“Celeste, talk to me.”
She brought a hand to her mouth, and her voice was barely a whisper.
“There’s… there’s someone getting into the house.”
The world went silent.
“What?”
“There’s someone getting into the house, Abraham!”
The image shook. She turned too fast, maybe to run, maybe to leave the room, maybe to get the children.
“Celeste, listen to me. Don’t leave that room without…”
The screen went black.
The call dropped.
For a second, I just stared at the phone as if I didn’t understand what had happened.
But I knew exactly what the fuck had happened.
“Celeste?”
Nothing.
I hit the button to call her again.
Call failed.
I tried again.
Failed.
I sent a message.
Not delivered.
Another.
Not delivered.
My whole body stopped.
And then the memory came.
The house invaded. The smell of blood. Valerie lying on the floor. Adam crying in his crib. Abby too little to understand that her mother would never get up again.
The world spun for a second. Just one second, but it was enough for the past to sink its claws into my chest and squeeze until it almost tore me in half.
No.
Not again.
Not my house.
Not my children.
Not her.
I snapped back to myself like I’d been shot.
I zipped up my pants in a rush, grabbed the gun from the table, shoved it into the holster, and left the room so fast the door slammed against the wall. The hotel hallway was empty, far too quiet for the hell roaring inside my head.
I went straight to the door next to mine.
Knocked once.
Twice.
On the third, I almost tore the wood off its hinges with my fist.
“PRINCE!”
The door flew open.
Prince appeared in a wrinkled T-shirt, hair a mess, gun already in hand because, even asleep, that motherfucker was still a trained agent.
“What the fuck? You trying to scare me to death?”
“They’re breaking into my house.”