MaYa
Active Ranker
Unfinished Yet Beutiful - 3
She woke up to the soft warmth of the morning sun, her eyes slowly adjusting to the light. For a moment, everything felt blank, like her mind had forgotten the night before. Then, a sharp sensation pressed against her back. She reached behind and pulled out an earpiece. The other was still in her ear. And just like that, his voice, his words, and the echoes of their call rushed back into her heart.
A sudden panic filled her as she grabbed her phone. She remembered their call lasting only two hours before she drifted off, but the screen showed six hours. Confused yet strangely happy, she quickly typed,
"I’m really sorry for yesterday. Our conversation was so engaging, but I just couldn’t fight my sleep. It wasn’t because of you, I truly enjoyed talking to you. Please don’t get me wrong. But I’m curious… how was the call six hours long?"
She waited. Checked her messages again and again. Afternoon came, and finally, his reply arrived.
"It’s okay. Sleep when you can, it’s precious. You dozed off in the middle of our call, and I could hear only silence. I knew you had fallen asleep, but your breath… it became a kind of music for me. I listened to it, and before I knew it, I fell asleep too. I don’t even remember when the call disconnected."
Her heart skipped a beat. No one had ever said something like that to her before. She was fascinated, drawn deeper into this strange connection between them.
For the next two days, he was nowhere to be found. But on Wednesday night, he appeared in the chatroom again. They exchanged a few words before she asked,
"Can we talk like the other night?"
He replied, "I’m at the beach right now, just relaxing and spending some time in the chatroom. Will you be able to wait until I get back?"
She hesitated. Something in his words felt distant, and she wondered if he was just making excuses. Trying not to show disappointment, she answered,
"No worries. If I’m still awake, we can talk."
She tried to sleep but woke up after an hour and a half. Almost instinctively, she checked her phone and found his message:
"Haven't slept yet?"
"Actually, I did, but I woke up in between. Did you come back?" she asked.
"Yes. Let’s call. Don’t mind, I’m a little drunk."
"That’s not an issue," she replied, without a second thought.
And so, they talked again. But this time, it was his turn to share his story.
He spoke about her, the woman he had loved, the one who had been with him for two years before slipping away. His voice carried pain, raw and unhealed. She listened, her eyes welling up with tears. He must have heard it, the way her breath trembled, the soft murmurs of her sadness. But she didn’t stop him. She wanted to understand his pain, to be there for him, even if only through the phone.
Hours passed, their voices growing softer, heavier. A different kind of emotion filled the silence between their words. Their breath became the only sound.
Then, his voice dropped lower, heavier. "You’re really something, you know that?" he murmured.
Her breath hitched. "Why do you say that?"
"Because I can hear you. I can feel you, even through this damn phone," he said, voice husky.
A strange warmth spread through her. She couldn’t tell if it was the intimacy of their conversation or the way his words wrapped around her like a caress.
"I wonder if I could touch you the way your voice touches me," he added, his tone darker now, more sinful.
She felt her body react, her skin prickling with anticipation. Her fingers clutched the blanket as she whispered, "How would you?"
"I’d start slow," he said, "letting my fingers trail down your skin, feeling the warmth of you under my touch. I’d pull you close, so close that you could feel my breath on your neck."
A soft gasp escaped her lips. "And then?" she asked, breathless.
"Then I’d taste you," he murmured, his voice dripping with hunger. "Slowly, deeply… until I had you trembling beneath me."
She shivered. Her body was burning, aching for something she had never felt before. She closed her eyes, his words painting vivid images in her mind, making her skin tingle with want.
"Do you want that?" he asked.
"Yes," she breathed, surrendering to the moment.
His voice grew darker, rougher. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."
She hesitated, her cheeks flushed, but the pull of his voice, the rawness of their connection, pushed her past her shyness. "I want to feel you… everywhere."
"Everywhere?" he teased.
"Yes," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.
"Then close your eyes and let me take you there."
What followed was a night of whispered desires and unspoken fantasies. They explored each other in words, in breathless moans and stolen gasps. Every pause, every silence was filled with longing.
And when the fire of their passion finally settled into a warm, consuming glow, she sighed, exhausted but satisfied. His voice was the last thing she heard before slipping into sleep.
"Sleep now, my love. I’ll be right here, listening to you breathe."
And just like that, she fell asleep in the arms of a man who wasn’t there, but who had touched her in ways no one else ever had.
Last edited:
