by Cari Quinn
She rubbed her knuckles against her thigh. If this wasn’t Cory, would this be considered cheating? She glanced at her phone. Maybe she should call him and ask.
Or she could just play along a little longer.
How are you at talking dirty?
Less than ideal. Doing dirty, however, I’m pretty good at.
She couldn’t argue with that. We could get on a webcam then.
His answer was quick. No way. Are you single?
She didn’t hesitate. Whatever Cory felt about their odd union, to her it counted as a real relationship. He was her lover and there was no arguing that. No. Are you?
Her heart thudded while she waited for a reply. No. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m even doing this. But I saw your screen name and it reminded me of someone.
She shut her eyes and typed faster, almost positive it was him. It had to be. So I’ll be whomever you need. I’ll be your fantasy. It doesn’t matter who gets you off, does it?
Her usage of those particular phrases had been intentional. She’d hoped to remind him of the bathroom. Of her…and him, together.
Yes. It does matter. With that, Ra signed off.
Vicky stared at the screen in the dark, her disappointment so acute that her chest hurt. Now she’d never know if it had been him or not.
Then her phone rang.
She lifted it to her ear with shaking fingers, too afraid to check who it was. “You almost had me.” Cory’s voice flowed through her, warm and rich and so familiar that she shuddered.
Thank God. She sucked in a giddy breath. “You’re calling awfully late. It’s after three.”
“Not too late for you obviously. Did you really think you’d fool me?” When she didn’t reply, he grunted. “Or did you not realize you were about to cyber-sex with your own lover? You thought I was another man.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Cyber-sex?” She did her best to sound innocent. “That’s so tawdry.”
“You’re the one who propositioned me. If you’re really so horny, you could’ve been more receptive to me last night.”
“I could’ve been more receptive to you? You didn’t even touch me.” Indignation bloomed in her voice.
“Now all of a sudden you’re the shy type who waits for the man to make all the moves?” He continued before she could answer. “You didn’t know it was me online, did you, Victoria?”
He sounded so peeved that she had to grin. Maybe it was wrong, but she loved making him jealous. She loved that she could. “Of course I knew. I hoped it was you. I logged on specifically, hoping you were online so we could—”
So they could do what, exactly?
“So you could pop my cyber-cherry?” he asked softly, his voice octaves lower than it had been a moment before.
“I’ve never done it. I don’t even really know how.”
“Some pair we are. Do you think phone sex involves rubbing your cell between your legs?”
She laughed and sagged into her pillows. Her tablet fell to her side. “Since I tend to get pretty excited, I can’t take that chance. Waterproof cases don’t always work.”
He groaned. “Stop.”
“Though my fingers are fine in liquid,” she continued, walking them down her midriff. “Good thing, too, since I think they’d need to be right now.”
“Stop trying to tempt me. I’m not going to have phone sex with you.”
“Okay,” she replied cheerfully. “I’ll just get out my vibrator.”
“You have a vibrator?” He sounded entirely too interested.
“No. But isn’t that what women always say in romantic comedies?”
His velvety laughter was a balm to her soul. “My tongue would happily volunteer for that service.”
“You know where I live, CEO. I’ll put my light on for you.”
He released a frustrated sigh. “We have a photo shoot in less than six hours, and I have two meetings before that.”
She slid her hand lower. “So let’s pretend. We’re both experts at that, aren’t we?” She clucked her tongue. “Unless you’re too chicken.”
“God, I hate you sometimes.”
She giggled. “Ditto. So when’s the last time you jerked off?”
“Do you really expect me to answer that?”
“Yes. Call me curious.”
He didn’t answer right away. “Last week,” he muttered. “You?”
“This morning in the shower. Then twice in my bed. The third one was kind of weak.” Her face felt as hot as if she had a fever.
“No wonder. Your fingers had to be sore by then. Why didn’t you call me?”
“You were at work.”
“So? I have priorities. And you with your hand between your legs sounds like an emergency to me.”
“How about in the middle of the night when I have my hand there?” she murmured, tracing the lips of her sex. They were already damp.
“Are you really…” He trailed off, sounding strangled.
“Yes. I really am. Your voice turns me on.”
“Jesus. Vic, I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
She closed her eyes and waited for him to continue, knowing he’d never let her remain unfulfilled. Even if he only had words at his disposal to get her off. “Yes, you can. You’re excited by it.”
He didn’t deny her claim. “Are you wet for me?”
“Aren’t I always? And my clit’s swollen. It won’t take me long to come for you.” She rolled on her belly and rose on her knees. “Especially now. I’m on my stomach. Easiest way for me to come. If I just slide my fingers inside…”
“Do it.” His authoritative tone rang through the line, surprising her with its certainty. She should’ve known he’d catch on quick. “Tell me how it feels.”
“You know how it feels inside me. Or have you forgotten already?”
“No.” He growled and her clit pulsed as if he were right beside her. “I’ll never forget how hot your sweet pussy is. You wrap so tight around me that I can’t get deep enough. I could go forever inside you and I’d still ache for more.”
Trembling, she buried her forehead in her pillow and ground herself against her palm. He never talked dirty. She slid her fingers in and out, desperate to keep the friction going, but she couldn’t speak. All she could do was breathe choppily into the phone and hope he understood how much he affected her.
“Baby?”
Hearing “pussy” from his mouth was more natural than a genuine endearment of any kind. He was about to officially kill her. “I’m here, and I’m keeping busy. What about you?”
“Working on it,” he said in a low voice. “Hard when you’re not talking to me, just sort of panting and making unh noises.”
“Speaking of hard, what are you doing? Exactly.”
“Stroking myself, fast. Pretending it’s your hand in my parents’ bathroom. Imagining you’re behind me, whispering in my ear. I can smell you, your soap and your perfume. It reminds me of being outside, in the barn. The smells of hay, earth, and fresh, clean air. Everything so sharp and crisp. That scent’s inside me even when you’re not around. If I breathe in right now, you’re there. Always.”
She bit her lip but it wasn’t enough to quiet her moan. “My thumb’s on my clit, my fingers inside. But it’s your hand. You should be quieting me when I cry out, not this pillow. When I bite it, it’s your shoulder I’m sinking my mouth into. Your back I’m raking my nails down.”
“Harder. Deeper. Take me with you.” He sounded guttural. Urgent. “Make me believe you’re in this bed with me, that neither one of us is alone tonight.”
Vicky complied, flexing her hand as she drove into herself again and again. Her climax hit her so rapidly that she couldn’t warn him, couldn’t even tell him it was happening. All she could do was gasp his name and jerk her fingers in and out while her moisture soaked her fingers.
She’d just slumped into her pillow when he made his own choked sounds of release. She shuddered as if they
were her own, absorbing them with a kind of dizzy elation that sent aftershocks spinning through her once again.
His unsteady breaths lulled her into oblivion. Words seemed superfluous. He must’ve agreed, because he didn’t speak either.
Together they could just…be.
A long time later, she whispered, “I think I can sleep now.”
He didn’t answer for so long that she wondered if he was still there. “Me too.”
“Good night, Cory.”
“Good night, Vic.”
…
He’d lied again.
Predawn found Cory at his balcony railing, searching for Orion’s Belt as he’d done way too often lately. It was early in the season for it to be visible, but his high-powered telescope helped. He usually left the telescope in the closet in favor of his binoculars but the clarity of the view this morning had made him bring out the big guns. Sirius winked away madly in the lightening sky, and he foolishly wished on it as he always did. But what he wished for had changed.
She’d done something to him. Maybe a curse, maybe a spell. It had been a long time since he’d had a crush or anything close to it. Infatuation could confuse a lot of things—
No. He wasn’t going to pretend. What he was suffering from went a lot deeper than infatuation or desire. He just didn’t know what he was supposed to do about it.
Some men approached their personal lives with the same focus and zeal they used for business. Not him. He’d had his share of girlfriends over the years, and occasionally he’d considered taking things to the next level. Invariably he’d found some minute flaw in the woman to dissect—or she’d found a not-so-minute flaw in him—that had made the relationship quickly turn sour.
He’d nearly done that here, almost unintentionally. Victoria’s reaction Sunday night to his unavoidable “we’re madly in love” declaration had started the process. God, the wounded look in her whiskey eyes had slayed him. Followed by her booting him out of her town house when he’d been certain she was as eager to have him in her bed as he’d been to get there, then her seeming disinterest in going to the get-together with him, and he’d gone into survival lockdown mode. So much of this whole crazy thing was his fault, but if she was already pulling away, he needed to, as well. It was only prudent.
The only problem with that scenario was that he’d begun to think about the future. He’d started looking down the road of his life and saw only the same view, day in and day out. He loved his work, there was no doubt about it. But there was more to life, and he wasn’t as willing to shut himself off as he’d been only a few weeks ago.
Spell, curse, miracle. Perhaps she was all three.
The only solution was to be honest with her. She was still keeping secrets about her personal life, he could tell, but it stood to reason that if he offered more of himself—if he figured out how—she would probably feel more comfortable with him. He wanted to be her friend. He definitely wanted to be her lover. The way she’d given herself in the barn had irrevocably sealed that decision. She fit him so well in so many ways, though even their jagged edges created sparks. Maybe he even wanted to be…more.
That more was scaring the holy fucking hell out of him.
He pushed aside his telescope and viewed the milky sky with his naked eye. Sunrise was always a beautiful thing to behold, even when his shoulders were stiff with tension and his eyes sore from lack of sleep. This time of year was especially beautiful, with the leaves turning in the trees on the hillside that surrounded the city. The sun’s rays cast the town in a pink-and-orange hue and the crisp morning breeze carried the scents of woodsmoke and fall.
It was the perfect morning to share with someone. With Victoria. If he turned his head, he could smell her hair, feel the way her fingers curled into his chest. If he concentrated, he could visualize the humor and the longing in her pale-brown eyes, burning just for him. Mixed in with both, her utter understanding of who he was at the molecular level. They’d known each other so long that even this giant change in their relationship only felt like a whole new level to their banter.
Yet he was alone, as always.
The irony of Victoria was that he hadn’t realized what he was lacking until she’d shot through the center of his life like a tornado. Imagining her not part of it in the same way anymore after his parents left town in a little over a week made him want to pound his fists into something hard and sharp.
He couldn’t let it happen.
Glancing at his watch, he exhaled and pushed away from the rail. He had to get ready for the day.
And to take the next step.
Chapter Eleven
He was officially swimming in deep shit.
Seeing her at the photo shoot that morning made him feel like a high school kid. He brought her a cup of cocoa and watched her eyes light up as she drank it. Then she got to work with Jill and Lorelie on staging the living room for the cover, and he just stood there like a lovesick moron.
She was beautiful, yes. Sexy, undoubtedly. But those weren’t the main attributes that drew him to her. Her brain, her wit, her heart—those were what tied him up in knots. They were what made him wish he believed in forever, or had one iota of a clue how to give it to someone.
When he finally screwed his head on straight enough to watch the shoot, he realized he needn’t have bothered. As usual, she’d knocked it out of the park.
The living room had been transformed into a Christmas fantasy. A large, real tree decorated with multicolored lights and vintage ornaments stood in one corner. The large brick-faced fireplace burned and the quaint rocker beside the couch was draped in a Santa throw. Little touches around the room emphasized the feel of an old-fashioned holiday, right down to the bowl of ribbon candy beside a long, low sofa made for afternoon naps in front of the TV.
The photographer called instructions to Victoria and her team between takes, but he didn’t ask for much. Everything was pretty much perfect.
Except one thing.
“Hold on,” Cory said near the end of the shoot, when the photographer was about to zero in on an Americana-style teddy bear dressed like an elf. Three sets of faces turned his way. “These shots need something else.”
Victoria crossed her arms over her chest. “Like what?”
He smiled. “You.”
“Huh?”
Her puzzlement made his smile widen. “Come sit here.” He walked behind the couch and patted the spot beside the bear. “Let the camera eat you up.” When she sat, he leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Before I do the same later.”
She blushed and his cock went from half-mast to hell yeah, who needs Viagra.
“You were adamant about just using location pictures. You said you wanted people to imagine themselves in the pictures, with no models to distract them.”
“You’re the only person who’ll be in them. They needed a little extra oomph.” As she bristled, he kissed her temple. “They needed you.”
Cory motioned to the photographer and stepped out of the shot.
After a few stumbles, she settled into her role. With the teddy bear tucked into her side, she posed, glittering just as brightly as the oversize snow globe on the end table beside the couch. And every now and then, Victoria winked at Cory, as if they were sharing a private joke.
Pride swelled in his chest. She was so incredibly talented, and as unique as the leaves starting to scatter outside the window behind her.
He wanted her, body, heart, and soul. Perhaps even for…life.
Was that crazy, considering they’d only been involved for a few weeks? The years before had been a sort of prelude, if one filled with potential violence on her end and perpetual annoyance on his counted as such. Still, they’d built a foundation. He had no doubt that she would challenge him every day for the rest of his existence. She would make him laugh, and turn him on, and make him dream about something beyond letters and numbers on a page. Having her in his life would make every bit of it worthwhile.
If he was canny enough, perhaps he could even persuade her it was all her idea. He could only imagine her reaction if he posed the question: “Hey, want to consider us making this fake love thing real?” If she got there on her own, she’d focus on getting him to see things her way.
He had a feeling he’d enjoy that.
At the end of the shoot, they went to an early lunch at the Chinese place near Value Hardware. He asked if she wanted to attend another event on Sunday and this time, there was no hesitation. She said yes right away.
So far, so good.
They held hands all the way back. Not by agreement, just a sort of fumbling finger bump that ended with him grabbing hold and her smiling instead of elbowing him away. It was relaxed and easy, as natural as turning to her in the middle of the sidewalk and kissing the strawberry lip gloss off her mouth. She tasted like bubble gum and peach iced tea and he caught himself rubbing his lips together all afternoon just to see if any of her flavor remained.
That night, she called before bed to say good night. After a full day of work on Saturday, he called her to do the same. Without saying it aloud, he knew they were both anticipating Sunday night’s party—and what would come after.
He wasn’t a romantic, and he didn’t believe in fairy tales. That was her department. But when she opened her door to him Sunday night with her golden hair coiled atop her head and her toned body draped in a column of black silk that fell from throat to toes—save the slit that stopped damn close to her rib cage—he fell hard. She wore diamond earrings and a tiny diamond stud in her nose, and neither sparkled brighter than she did. Somehow she’d bewitched him, and he didn’t want the spell to ever fade.
“You look like an angel,” he murmured.
She turned and showed him the lace-up back. So many laces. She grinned over her shoulder, though her eyes were too dark, the shadows beneath them too heavy. “A wicked angel.”
Frowning, he stepped forward. Something was wrong. “What’s the matter?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t lie to me. I know you better than that.” He stroked her cheek and his heart turned over as she pressed her face into his palm. “What is it?”