Chapter 8

Darryl Nelson

“This fuckin’ sucks!” I growl, throwing my phone down in anger.

“What’s up, dude?” Smit looks at me with wide eyes.

“No fuckin’ answer. Again!” I rake my fingers through my hair in agitation. I had a missed call from Stevie an hour ago, and since then, she hasn’t picked up. All fucking week it’s been the same; I’d ring Stevie and get her answer phone, but she only seems to want to phone me during the twenty minutes a night I am on stage, and text messages seem to go unanswered for hours. I am losing my fucking mind. I can’t stop the images flitting through my mind of her cuddled up with this hunky Cameron guy.

“You know she’s crazy about you, dude,” Smit smirks at me. My internal dialogue must be more evident on my face than I realize. “Plus, I’ve now seen what you’re working with, and I don’t think she’ll be able to replace ~that~ in a hurry!”

I shove him good-naturedly, making him wobble and fall off the edge of the bed he is perched on, making me laugh out loud. We are in this small town for two days and have been treated to a stay in a hotel rather than cramped up on the buses. I get the short straw and have to share a double with Smit. Evan, the lucky bastard, has a single.

My phone starts to ring with Stevie’s ringtone—~This is Halloween~ from The Nightmare Before Christmas—and I scramble over Smit’s legs to grab it before she rings off. Frantically, I click to accept the FaceTime call, desperate to see my girlfriend’s face live for a change.

“Hey baby…” My happy greeting dies on my tongue as I take in her teary eyes. “Stevie, what’s wrong?”

“Are…are you alone?” Her voice is a little slurred. I gesture violently at Smit to get out of our fucking room. As soon as the door clicks closed behind him, I answer her.

“I am now. What’s going on? Talk to me, Stevie.”

“I don’t want to talk,” her camera shakes a little as she settles back on her bed before it tilts down her body, showing me that she is just wearing some sexy as fuck underwear. As she brings the camera back up to her face, I catch sight of a half-drunk bottle of wine on her nightstand.

“Stevie, what’s going on with you? Tell me what’s upset you.” I bite my lip as she runs her finger along the lacy edge of her bra, my dick well on his way to being fully hard in my pants.

She shakes her head. “I told you; I don’t want to talk.” Her fingers walk their way down her body, skating over her tattoo and toying with the top of her panties. “I want to see you…all of you. I miss you so much, Darryl.”

I grab the back of my t-shirt and drag it over my head, dropping my phone to grapple with my belt, shimmying out of my jeans as quickly as I can. I can hear Stevie’s slightly husky chuckle coming through the phone, making me grin.

We’ve only slept together that one time, not for want of trying. Every time we have a bit of alone time, someone always interrupts us before we can get to the good part. There is only so much making out that I can do before my balls are bluer than Stevie’s left iris. I’ve even tried to get us a hotel room before I left on tour, but all the hotels we could feasibly get to need a credit card to book a room.

When I pick up the phone again, Stevie has lost her bra. “Fuck…I really wish I was there, baby.”

“Show me how much you want me, Darryl.”

My dick is straining against my black boxer briefs already, but when she strokes her breast, teasing the soft pink nipple until it’s standing to attention, I could blow my load there and then.

Lifting my hips a little, I slide my underwear off. “Is this what you wanted to see?” I ask, my voice husky with need. Biting her bottom lip, she nods, and I watch as her hand slips underneath the elastic waistband of her panties, gripping myself tightly. Slowly, I start to move my hand up and down. My cock is harder than I’ve ever felt it. On the screen, Stevie’s hand is moving under the thin strip of material covering her. “Show me yours…”

With a slight blush coloring her cheeks, she leans forward, propping her phone up on something. Her panties are slid slowly down her legs, and she spreads them, putting her pussy on perfect display for me. She runs her fingers down her slit, opening it slightly and letting me see how wet she is. “I miss you so much, Darryl,” she repeats, her voice barely above a whisper.

My hand speeds up as her hand begins to move, circling her fingers around her clit before moving them down and dipping them inside the hole I really wish I was dipping inside of right now. Her lower lips are nearly the same shade as her cheeks, both flushed with excitement.

My cock is throbbing in my hand, my own excitement dribbling down the sides and helping lubricate things. I don’t know where to look.

Stevie looks like a fucking goddess. Her strawberry hair is disheveled, trailing over her bedsheets. Her breasts are heaving with her breathless pants and moans; her pussy is crowned with a neat smattering of pubic hair the same flame color as the hair on her head, and judging by the wet sounds as her fingers delve inside it, her pussy is deliciously wet.

“Fuck…Stevie, I’m gonna…~Fuck!~” My cock jerks in my hand as I cum. The white jets seem never-ending, landing like hot wet kisses over my stomach.

“Oh god! Darryl!” Stevie’s head drops back, her whole body shuddering as she orgasms.

We lay on our beds, separated by several hundred miles, panting in our own post-orgasmic haze for a couple of minutes, neither one of us wanting to break the spell.

“Not that I’m complaining,” I say, shattering the silence as I reach over and grab my underwear to wipe the sticky mess up. “But what prompted this?”

Stevie immediately refuses to meet my eyes, pulling her sheets up over her nakedness. “Can I not want to see my boyfriend anymore?”

“Hey!” I sit up, moving the phone closer to my face. “This is me you’re talking to, Stevie. I know you better than anyone…what are you not telling me?”

A lone tear rolls down her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she chokes out.

“Is it this Cameron guy? What did you do?!” White-hot rage immediately replaces the horniness that was flowing through my veins.

“Nothing!” The tears are coming quicker now. She says something, but it’s so disjointed from her sobs that I can’t make it out properly.

“Stevie,” I say, starting to get worried about her now. “Baby, please…calm down and tell me what happened.”

Through snivels and hiccups, she tells me that her asshole creep of a lecturer, some dillhole that she has been raving about studying under, has made some veiled advance toward her after requesting she stay late with him, after ripping her submission piece to shreds first.

“I guess I get a little horny after I get a little drunk,” she says with a guilty smile, her nose and eyes red after her crying session.

“I really wish I was there to beat that fucker into the ground for making you feel so bad.”

“I really wish you were here because having virtual sex is nowhere near as fun as actual sex,” she laughs, and I can’t help but join in agreement. As our laughter fades, I hear Smit knock on the door to our room.

“Listen, I’ve gotta go now…are you gonna be okay?”

Stevie tilts her head to one side, her mouth twisted up as she nods. “Yeah. I will be after talking to you.”

We say our goodbyes, and I drag my jeans back on before striding over and unlocking the door to an excited Smit.

“Dude! Lukas and those guys have asked if we want to go hang at the after-party in their suite tonight!”