by Elise Whyles
“I don’t…” Gillian gasped.
“Want to suck your tongue into my mouth and taste you. While I’m kissing you, I’ll tangle my hands in your hair, pulling your head back so I can run my lips down your jaw, your throat. Dipping my tongue into the hollow to lick your pulse point.” Jack leaned back in his seat, the image of her head tilted back sending sparks straight through him.
“Mm, what else?” Gillian’s whisper held a thread of fear mixed with her arousal. “Would you suck at my breasts? Bite my nipples.”
“Oh yeah, baby. I’m gonna peel off your shirt one sexy button at a time. Slip it from your shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Then I’ll ease the clasp loose on your bra to reveal those pert, perky tits. God yes, then I’m gonna suck on them, lick at ’em until you’re hanging on the edge. I’m going to spend hours playing with them until they ache. I’m gonna paint a trail down your scars to your ass, nibble on it for a bit before I move to your abdomen.” With each word, his cock swelled, hardening beneath the fly of his trousers. Just how far should he take this? Would she hang up on him if he took it further? Shy, timid Gillian didn’t seem the type to have phone sex.
“You like my scars?” Gillian’s whimper interrupted his internal debate like ice water.
His eyes closed, Jack licked his lips, the faint line of a scar running from her breast to her ass flashing through his mind. Like it? Yeah, he liked it. It added something to her slim, flawless body he’d never experienced before. Just thinking about it was enough to make him ache. “God, baby, they’re as sexy as you are. I could spend all day licking and kissing your scars. Flawless, sexy, just thinking of your body, your scars, gets me harder than hell.”
Her muted gasp filtered over the phone, filled with shock and arousal. Straightening as much as his hard cock would allow, he winced and glanced at his door. “Where are you, Gillian? What are you wearing?”
“I’m at home, in my clothes.” Confusion heightened her voice.
“Describe them for me. I need you to take ’em all off, inch by inch, piece by piece. Tell me what you’re doing. How you’re doing it. Please, Gillian, touch yourself. I want you to imagine my fingers trailing across your skin.”
“I have on a simple camisole and jeans.”
“More, tell me more. I want to hear every tiny detail so I can see it, feel it, taste it.” Jack palmed his crotch, sliding his hand up and down, shivering at the rush. “Are you slipping it off your shoulders, pushing the material down? Cup your breast, tell me what it feels like.”
“How? I’ve never done this before.”
“Go into the bedroom, baby, light a candle or two, close your eyes, and pretend I’m there. Pretend I’m stretched out on your bed with you. It’s my fingers pulling the lacey straps from your shoulders, my lips following them. My fingers painting circles across your flesh.”
Jack shuddered at her whimper, the passion in it enough to stir his already boiling blood. Leaning back in the chair, he slid his zipper down, his fingers pulling his hard length from the confines. “That’s it, baby, I’m pulling the lace down, dragging it over your nipples. Hot, wet, my mouth is on you. My tongue glides over first one nipple and then the other. My breath is hot as I breathe you in. You’re so hot, baby. I want to rip your clothes off.”
“Yes.” Her breath caught, before she started breathing heavily. “Touch me, Jack. I want to feel your mouth on me, your teeth on my nipples. It feels so good.”
“You taste so sweet. It lays on my tongue so easily, so heady. I could come just from sucking on your nipples. Slowly, I roll your nipple between my finger and thumb; baby, do it. Pinch them. I want them hard. As hard as my cock is for you right now.
“I slide my other hand down to your pussy. Stroke you through the tight denim. You’re so hot, I can feel it through the material. My fingers burn to sink into that wet heat, but I don’t. I want you to be begging me to come, I want to hear you scream my name as you come apart from me licking and stroking. I need to feel you come from just my touch. My thumb swirls on your clit, teasing, pressing harder and harder as I feel the tremble racing through you.” Jack groaned, his fingers tightening on his cock.
He could almost taste her, the images in vivid color in his mind. “Yes, touch me, Gilli, take my cock in your hand. Stroke it. Slow, easy. I want to prolong the pleasure. Build it until I can’t see straight. There’s just you and me.”
“Hard, hot Jack, like silk in my hand. I want you. I need you to fuck me, please.”
“Not yet, baby,” he whispered. “Undo the snap on your jeans and the zipper. I want them open, so I can slide my hand inside. Oh, you’re hot, wet already. I can feel the throb of your desire beneath my fingertips. Silky panties—how sinfully delicious, Gillian. They glide beneath my touch, brushing over your clit. I pull your panties aside and slip a finger inside, yes. So tight, so wet for me, aren’t you? You want my hard cock in you, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Mm, I’m licking your essence off my fingers. I can taste your sweetness, your nectar.”
“More.” Gillian’s broken whisper was like a stroke along his cock. “I need more, please.”
“Taste yourself, taste how sweet you are, how addictive you are. I want to see you lick my fingers, taste yourself so I can kiss you. Do it, God yes, it’s so sexy, so hot. I could almost come just from watching you lick my fingers.”
“Jack!” Gillian gasped, her voice cracking before she screamed his name out. Shuddering, Jack squeezed the head of his cock, the slight pain bringing some focus—he didn’t want to come just yet.
“Yes, come apart in my arms.” He encouraged her. “The jeans have to go, rip them off, I want you on your knees, want to see your pussy. Lean forward, on your chest. Yeah, just like that, baby, rub your clit. I want to lick that tight pussy. So good. You can’t imagine how good it is, Gilli, I could do this all day. I’m licking your legs, your sweet cunt. Feels so good don’t it, baby?”
“I didn’t know it could feel this good. Right … oh God!” Her tiny yelp of pleasure stroked along his cock, pushing him closer to the brink. “Do you want me to suck your cock? Take it deep in my mouth and get it all wet? Milk you dry with my throat?”
“Later. Right now I just want to slide into you so deep you can feel the pulse of its head against the hot, wet folds of your cervix.” Jack growled, his fist pumping his cock faster and faster.
“Shit.” Jack slammed back to reality with the sudden, violent pounding on his office door.
“What?” Confusion and lust tangled Gillian’s voice in his ear.
“Someone’s at my office door. Hang on a second.” Jack tried to harness his rapid breathing as the door opened and Lenny stuck his head in.
“You okay, Jack?”
“Fine, was there something you needed?” Jack ground out, hoping Lenny couldn’t see over the top of his desk.
“We have a meeting in a couple of minutes. Sally said you were busy so I wanted to remind you. Finish that call and get into the break room.” The door clicked shut on Lenny’s retreating figure.
Jack groaned and pressed the receiver to his ear. “I gotta run. I’m off duty in thirteen hours.” He glanced at the clock. “How ‘bout I come over tomorrow night and we can finish this.”
“Really?”
“I’ll be there, hard, hot, and wanting you spread out on your bed,” Jack admitted as he struggled to control the arousal flooding his body. Tucking the phone beneath his shoulder and ear, he winced as he forced his cock back into his pants and pulled his shirt over the top. “You’re on till seven, so eight okay?”
“Eight is great.” Disappointment colored her voice. “And we’ll finish this, right?”
“You got it, baby. Gotta run before someone else comes barging in, but I’ll be dreaming of you tonight, baby. See you tomorrow.”
Jack hung up and glared at the door for a few moments. He rose to his feet and grimaced at the still uncomfortable state of his semi-flaccid dick. Only the boy
s around him would have the balls to deflate him just as he was getting ready to come with his girl. Grabbing his notepad, pen, and coffee cup, he headed for the meeting, the silent promise of finally having Gillian the only thing keeping him from ripping someone’s head off.
* * * *
Humming to the music playing on her CD player, Gillian lounged back in the hot, floral-scented bathwater. Her toes tapped against the porcelain tub, her mind filled with Jack’s guttural voice. Frustrated, horny, she’d retreated to the bath to alleviate the need thrumming through her. However, the bath wasn’t working. Every time she closed her eyes she could hear Jack.
She jumped at the twitch in her pussy at the merest thought of him. Resting her head on the bath pillow, her eyes drifted closed, a hand tracing over her throat, down to her breasts. Her fingers plucked at the still-erect nipple, teasing it as she shuddered.
She eased her hand beneath the water and trailed her fingers down her belly, hesitating at the juncture of her thighs. Swollen, moist, the sensitive flesh of her labia greeted her fingers. With a parting of the folds, she slipped a finger inside, her mind racing with the thought of Jack doing it. Rather than her fingers, she pretended it was Jack, spreading her, teasing her with his touch.
She jerked upright in the tub and glared at the shrill ringing phone perched on the laundry basket next to it. She grabbed it, her heart pounding with excitement. Had Jack gotten away to call her again? “Hello?”
“Well, well, well, if it ain’t my little Gillian Rebecca.” Cold, harsh, the sneer filling her ear killed any trace of lust.
“Michael.” Her fingers tightened on the receiver. “Why are you calling me?”
“A man’s got to have hope, baby. Your mom’s been telling me about you. Damn girl. I didn’t know you were the type to go whoring around. Jumping into bed with some fireman, even going to his place of work. Tsk tsk, sweety, you’d think you’d know better by now. I ain’t gonna just forgive and forget you know.”
Gillian swallowed. Fear, horrible, choking, icy, wrapped itself around her throat, closing in with each breath. Her knees pulled to her chest, she struggled to hide any trace of emotion in her voice. “I’m a grown woman. I’m allowed to gallivant if I want to.”
“Listen to me, you stupid bitch. You’re mine. You think these bars are gonna keep me away from what’s mine by right?”
“I think so.” Gillian sank deeper into the water. “I know so. Lose this number. You call me again, you’ll be spending a lot of time away from the phones.”
“Ah now, baby, why you got to go and do—”
Gillian hung up, her breath exploding on a sob before she dropped the phone on the floor. It skittered across the tile to rest by the commode. Holding her hands to her face, Gillian sobbed, the familiar terror of Mike’s touch wrapping around her. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone?
Long after the water had turned icy and her skin had wrinkled, Gillian rocked in the tub, her tearstained face pressed against her knees. The haunting bitterness of Mike’s abuse curled around her.
The phone rang again, shattering the silence. She eased from the tub, checked the caller ID, and sighed. She debated ignoring it for a moment before cursing and pressing Talk. She held it to her ear. “Hello?”
“I’m surprised, I would have thought you’d be at work or something equally as drab.” Barbara’s voice snickered in her ear.
“What do you want, Mother?” Nausea rose, acrid and bitter in the back of her throat. “Haven’t you done enough?”
“Nonsense, child, I’ve done nothing. Anyway, I called to invite you to dinner tomorrow night. Lenny’s not on call so we’re going to have a family—”
“I have plans that can’t be changed, and no desire to change them if I could.” Gillian swallowed. “Not for you. Not ever again.” A ready curse on her lips, she hung up, tucked the phone into the linen closet, and wrapped her robe around her shoulders. She padded into the bedroom, sank down on the edge of her bed, and glanced around.
Neat, utilitarian, the room held little of her in it. Instead, the massive bed, the dark furniture, were all things her mother had selected. Resolve filled her. There was no way she was staying in this place. First thing in the morning she was going to start looking for a new place to live, one she could afford. Behind her eyes, a headache began to pound. She rubbed at the lids, curled on the bed, her gaze on the blinking light of her alarm clock. Tomorrow, she’d get started packing, so when she found a place…
Chapter 17
Gillian eyed the clock as she finished her breakfast. She tossed a bill on the table, donned her simple tweed coat, and headed for her car. There was a lot to do before she had to get to work. With Jack coming at eight, she wanted to be sure she was ready. She pulled the list she’d made before leaving the house from her pocket and stared at it.
Tucking it out of sight before anyone else could see it, Gillian hurried to her car. The engine roared to life with the turn of the key. With her belt in place, she headed for the local drugstore. That would be her first stop, but not her last.
Ten minutes later, her face on fire, she stood in the drugstore staring at the display in front of her. With a glance up and down the aisle, she lifted a box from the hanger and flipped it over. “Ribbed for her pleasure. Guaranteed 99.9 percent safe against the transmission of sexually transmitted diseases such as HIV and AIDS.” Confused, she glanced at the rest of the boxes and sighed. What in the hell was she doing looking at condoms? It wasn’t her responsibility, was it? Yes, it was. Even if he brought his own, she wanted to show him she was serious about this.
After dropping a couple of varieties into the basket on her arm, she all but fled. With the basket tucked against her, she browsed the bubble bath, her mind on her favorite scent and how it would be nice to share a bath with him. The ring of her cell pulled her from her appraisal of the strawberry scent.
“Hello.” Absently she set the bottle back on the shelf, her eye catching on the lavender flowers on another.
“Good morning, Gillian.” Doctor Reimer’s voice filtered through the phone. “How are you?”
“Um, okay.” Dropping her selection in the basket, she hovered for a moment before heading for the checkout. “What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to call you and see how you were doing. You missed Tuesday’s appointment.”
“I did?” Gillian slapped a hand to her forehead. “I did. Sorry, I was busy.”
“Were you doing something you wanted? I see you often enough to know you’re doing a lot better than you were a year ago. I’m happy with your progress and just don’t want to see you letting your mother ruin it.”
“I know. I was out with a friend.” Gillian smiled nervously at the clerk and put her purchases on the counter. “We, um, went to the museum.”
“Gillian, I’m concerned about you. Do you have time to stop by my office today? I know you’re busy, but it’s important. Your mother called me, ranting about you going off your meds. She’s a real… Well, I’m worried about you.”
Gillian bit back a curse, handed over the cash, and took her goods. Obviously her mother hadn’t forgotten her rebellion if she was calling her therapist and not the doctor she’d been seeing before. “I can just imagine that call. I’m not in town at the moment, but I can be back there within the next hour. Would that work?”
“Quite nicely. See you then.”
Gillian hurried from the store. She tossed her things in the back of the car and cranked the engine over. Reversing out of the parking spot, she tapped the steering wheel, fuming at her mother’s high handedness.
Why can’t she just leave me alone? What good comes from haunting me with this bull? Now I’m going to be late for work! Oh goodness, Jack’ll be at the house at eight and I still have so much to do.
Tired, Gillian trudged up to the door of Doctor Reimer’s office and rang the bell. A moment later she smiled at her therapist who held the door open for her. Stepping into the warm foyer, she glanced around
. “So, Mother called you, huh?”
“Yes, she’s concerned you’re off your meds.” Doctor Reimer used her hands to make quotations, a wry smile on her face. “Something about being confrontational?”
“I kicked her out of my house when she yelled at me for going out with Jack,” Gillian admitted. “Acting like I’m a two-year-old. So I told her off.”
“She mentioned you and Mike may be working on reconciliation. I nearly died on a spit-take, my poor desk got coffee all over it.” Doctor Reimer paused, her brows puckered. “I was shocked when she called, and even more so when she said that. I don’t mean to be an alarmist, but your mother is not well. Thinking you’re going to rekindle a relationship with the man who attempted to kill you is hardly an indicator of a healthy mind. Were I to hear of this, I would strongly advise against such an act.”
Gillian held up a hand. “She gave Mike my phone number; that’s not reconciliation at all. It’s pure spite. It’s something she has always done: tried to control every facet of my life.”
“Gillian, I think it may be time to consider the relationship you and your mother have is simply too toxic for you to continue. Have you thought of simply disconnecting from her?”
“Yes, I’ve thought of it. Knowing she’s been speaking to Mike has only reinforced my desire to cut her from my life.” Gillian frowned. “Still, it’s a rather daunting idea.”
“Has he called?”
Gillian flushed, ducking her head slightly. The old fear rearing its ugly head again as the memory of his voice slithered over her. Even now, fully clothed, she felt exposed, vulnerable, and she hated it. “Yes. Basically told me he wasn’t going to let me go. Like I’m a piece of meat or something he can own. I hung up on him and then mother called. It was a stressful evening.”