“Let me hear you. I’m not finished yet,” I said as my own climax built. “Let it out.”

“Oh, fuck, Master,” she panted, and I saw her in my mind, saw her working the dildo as hard as she could. “Oh.”

I lifted my hips off the bed in time with the thrusts of my hand and arched my back, imagining her under me. Just in time, I reached for the washcloth I had waiting and released into it.

From the sounds of Abby’s steady breathing, I could tell she’d had her own climax.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes, Master,” she answered, her voice heavy with pleasure. “Thank you.”

“If I were there, I’d pull you to my chest, so I could hear your heart,” I said. “I’d pepper your skin with kisses and whisper in your ear how much I love you.”

“I love you, Master,” she said shyly.

My heart clenched at the knowledge that she wasn’t talking to Nathaniel, but her master. It wasn’t lost on me that this was the first time she’d said I love you that way.

“Abigail,” I whispered. “My love.”

For a time, we stayed as we were, content to have the phone line connecting us. I knew she’d had a long day, though, and that she was probably tired.

“I should let you sleep,” I finally said.

“I wish I could stay on the line with you all night and listen to you breathe.”

“Soon,” I said. “Soon. I’ll be home.”

“Not soon enough.”

We spoke quietly for a bit longer. When I heard her yawn, we said our good-byes and good nights and disconnected.

I propped myself up against the headboard and took a few deep breaths. I still wished Abby had been able to travel with me, but I understood and admired her for staying in New York to attend the conference. Besides, we’d have the rest of our lives to travel together.

Florida, I reminded myself. I needed to tell her about the Florida trip I had planned.

The phone sex with Abby had been incredible. Phone sex was not new to me, of course. Matter of fact, with my previous sub-missives, it was something I’d engaged in frequently when the urge struck during the week or if I wanted to reward them for something and I thought they’d enjoy it.

Mostly, though, it was just sex, and it amazed me how it was never just sex with Abby. Did it satisfy a need? Yes. Did it help fulfill her? Yes. But it was more than that.

Everything with Abby was always more.

But that didn’t frighten me the way it used to.

I glanced at the clock beside my bed. She’d be curled up in bed, trying to sleep now. I had only two more envelopes waiting for her to open the next day. The first one she’d open at nine thirty. It was her last writing assignment. Then at eleven, Elaina would be picking her up for Sunday brunch.

I thought ahead to the rest of the week. On Monday, I would have dinner delivered to the house for her. Sushi. With a little note reminding her how much it meant that she’d agreed to a sushi date so many months ago instead of beating the shit out of me like I deserved.

On Tuesday, she was going out after the conference with Felicia. Abby needed to have her address changed and Felicia needed to have her last name updated. It felt right, somehow, to have her sharing my address. I remembered the house being so full of life when I was a child, and I was delighted to feel that coming back.

I thought about the flower delivery I had set up on Tuesday. After she made it home, two dozen cream roses with just a hint of blush would be delivered along with a letter I’d written and given to the florist. Just a little note telling her how happy I was she shared my home.

Wednesday, right before I left a seemingly never-ending meeting for lunch, my phone buzzed with an incoming text. Abby and I often texted or talked right before lunch, so I excused myself from the conference room and went into the spare office I’d been using during my stay.

I scrolled to the text.

Getting ready for bed, she’d typed.

Wish I could tuck you in, I replied.

Me too, she texted back. I have a little something for you . . .

What she sent next took my breath away, and I staggered to my chair to sit down. She sent picture after picture of herself, or parts of herself. Parts of her covered, and parts not so covered, with little scraps of lace. A garter here. A tiny slip of a bra there. One nipple playing peekaboo with a brushing of lace. A thong that left very little of her ass to my imagination.

Holy fuck, I typed when the pictures stopped.

You like? she asked.

Let’s just say if I were there, I’d remove every last bit of that lingerie. With my teeth.

Oh yeah? she asked. Then what would you do?

I looked at my watch. I had a few minutes before I needed to leave the office.

I’d bend you over the foot of the bed.

Sounds good, she replied.

Smack that ass for being such a tease.

*squirms*

I grinned and typed fast.

Dip a finger into your pussy.

Mmmm, she texted back.

Someone knocked on the door.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Damn fucking lunch, I typed.

Damn cock-blocking business trip, she replied.

At least you can have some relief, I sent back. I’ll be stuck in a stuffy lunch.

Drown your sorrow in jiu.

I will, I texted back. Sweet dreams.

Sweet dreams *soon*, she wrote. I have a little problem to take care of first.

I groaned, picturing her finding a toy in her bedside table, her legs spread . . .

Tease, I finally sent her.

Learned from the best, she replied.

I felt despondent all day. Only two more days until I could leave China, but I knew those two days would drag. I called Jackson when I made it back to the hotel room that evening. He was an early riser and I knew he’d be up.

“Nathaniel,” he said. “How’s China?”

“Long and boring,” I said. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” With the time difference, it was just after five in the morning.

“Nah. Just getting ready for my morning run.”

We spoke for a few minutes about nothing in particular and made some plans to get together once I returned. It didn’t take long for the conversation to turn to his recent wedding and Felicia. He loved talking about his new wife.

“Question for you,” I said after hearing a long tirade on their plans concerning his retirement. “Was there a lot of gossip surrounding your engagement?” I honestly couldn’t remember; it had been a difficult time for me with Abby leaving and all.

“There was some talk Felicia might have been pregnant,” he said with a laugh. “But that wasn’t true, of course.”

I knew they both wanted children, but I also knew they wanted to wait a few years.

“Why?” he asked. “Are you and Abby—”

“No,” I interrupted. “Nothing like that.” Not yet. “I just know you hadn’t known each other for very long when you proposed. It made me wonder.”

“Number one,” he said. “I don’t give a fuck what people think, and I know you sure as hell don’t.”

I laughed. He was right, for the most part.

“Number two,” he continued. “If I found the woman I knew I wanted to marry and she wanted to marry me, why should what other people think have anything to do with it?”

“I don’t want people to gossip about Abby,” I said without thinking. “I don’t want anyone to think less of her.”

“Aha!” he said. “I knew it.”

I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see it over the phone. “I didn’t say I hadn’t thought about marrying Abby.”

“You implied it,” he said, and then continued without waiting for my response. “Listen, man, Abby’s a strong woman.”

“I know that.”

“And she’s secure enough in who she is to not give a fuck if people gossip about her,” he said. “Besides, anyone who would think less of her for agreeing to marry you is either an ass or jealous.”

I laughed. “Thanks, Jackson. Sometimes I just need to talk things out.”

“No problem.”

“You’ll keep this conversation just between us, right?” I asked. “You won’t tell—”

“My wife that her best friend’s boyfriend is thinking about popping the question?” he asked. I knew he was smiling.

“Right.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

I thought about my conversation with Jackson for much of the remainder of the evening. Before I went to bed that night, I sent Abby a text with three simple lines.


Want you.

Miss you.

Love you.

I called her Friday night, China time, with bad news.

“There’ve been some problems,” I told her, while watching my pilot talk on his headset. He was waving his hands in the air. “We’re not going to be able to leave on time.”

“How long will you be delayed?”

“We think a few more hours,” I said. “I should make it to New York around three in the morning. I’ll just get a taxi home.”

“I can come pick you up. It won’t be a problem.”

“I know, but I’d rather you sleep. I’ll be there when you wake up.”

I didn’t stay on the phone long; I was more than a bit pissed I wouldn’t be leaving on time, and I didn’t want her to think I was angry at her.