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Thunder is quick to follow, and that’s when I hear it—a noise, soft and breathy in my ear.
“Jeremy?”
My worry increases tenfold when I remember that the forecast was calling for storms all across the state. Pretty sure Allentown was also in the red.
Worry spikes, squeezing my throat.
“JJ. Are you?—”
A moan fills the ear, and I swear my heart just…stops. Everything stops. The storm disappears.
My fingers grow slack around the phone, but not enough to drop it. The world slants, and a sort of buzzing fills my ears, drowning out everything but the muffled gasps and groans filling my ear.
Holy shit.
My mouth opens, closes, gaping for something—anything—to say.
Would he even hear me?
“Fuckkkkk, baby,” a deep voice groans, and there’s a light smacking sound.
My eyes bulge.
That’s not Jeremy.
But just as quickly as I start to feel…relieved that maybe someone else got his phone somehow, or I don’t fucking know what…
There’s a responding moan, deep and drawn out, and oozing of pleasure. It’s as strange and foreign to me as it is familiar. And there’s absolutely zero denying who it is, or what I’m listening to right now.
“Yesss, right there. Harder.” His ragged groans and pleas splinters into a hiss. “Fuckkk.”
I stare down at the counter, not really seeing anything, unable to do so much as breathe out of fear they’ll hear me.
Hang up. Hang the fuck up now.
My hand trembles, and my mouth is drier than a desert, making my swallow go down painfully slow.
What the actual hell is happening right now?
“Mmm, p-please,” he chatters, whimpering. “Just like that.”
My eyes slam shut and my head drops. Holy shit.
Holy. Shit.
“Yeah, baby, that’s it. Ride my?—”
I yank my phone away and slam End so hard, the phone tumbles out of my hand, skidding across the floor.
What the fuck did I just hear?
I’m trembling head to toe, my heart thrashing against my chest. My knees quake, threatening to give, and there’s no denying—no running away—from the fact my jeans suddenly feel a size too small.
Go away, go away.
Panting, I look around the kitchen—hidden mostly in shadow—and before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m lunging forward with a roaring, “Fuck!”, and swiping everything off the end of the counter. Papers go flying, fluttering in the air. Something hits the floor with a thud. Something else shatters—a mug.
And I just…I stand there, blinking down at the mess, unable to wrap my head around what I’m seeing, what I’m feeling, what I just fucking heard.
