by Marni Mann
“My pleasure.” His voice stirred those feelings again so easily. “But that’s not why you called.”
I took a sip, letting the wine rest on my tongue for a bit before I swallowed. It was from the case he’d sent me, and one of my favorites. The hints of cherry and cocoa made a perfect blend. I stared into my glass and sucked in a deep breath. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over for a drink?” He had led every interaction, scheduled all of our encounters. He had voiced what he wanted. It was my turn.
He breathed into the phone, the same way he’d exhaled over my skin yesterday in his office. Goose bumps appeared all over me from the thought of it. “I want to.” He took a second breath, then I heard him shift the phone. Or maybe he had covered the speaker, I couldn’t tell which. “But I can’t tonight.”
I should have known he’d reject the offer. “Oh. Right. It’s last minute. I didn’t expect—”
“I’m not in the city, Frankie. If I were, I’d be over there. Drinking you.”
That familiar throbbing started again. It was becoming almost permanent.
“I like that answer,” I said, using his words from yesterday.
“What are you wearing?”
I lifted the throw and glanced down at my outfit. “Yoga pants. A tank top.” My description wasn’t exactly sexy. “I would have changed if you were coming over.”
“Panties?”
“No.”
“Touch your pussy for me.”
I laughed. That was easier than coming up with something to say.
“I’m not asking, Frankie. I’m telling you…touch your pussy.”
“Right now?”
“Don’t make me say it again.”
I set the glass on the end table, tossed the blanket on the floor, and slid my hand over my lace bra. “Mmm,” I moaned. “My nipples are so hard.”
“You’re not listening!”
“It feels so good when they’re pulled on…and the skin on my stomach is so warm and soft.”
“Frankie…
“I haven’t even touched myself yet and I can already feel how wet I’m getting.” I flicked the pads of my fingers over the hardened pebbles. My eyes closed; my teeth bit into my bottom lip. “Ahhhhh…”
“Touch your pussy.”
“I’m wet for you, Derek. Wet and needy…and ready to scream your name.”
“Touch your fucking pussy right now!”
I moaned as my fingers traveled past my belly button. “Almost there.” They teased the lower part of my stomach and just under the waist of my pants. “So close…” I slowly brought them down farther, resting them flat across my bare mound. “Mmm…I’m there.”
“You defied me.”
I smiled while I stretched my legs out, placing one foot on the end of the ottoman and the other across the couch. “I would never do that.”
His growl was so deep and passionate. “Spread those goddamn lips and press a finger to your clit.”
I dipped my finger down, rubbing it against the spot as he’d requested. “That feels so good.”
“How wet are you?”
I dropped down a little more, getting wetter the lower I went. “Extremely.”
“Fuck…I want to feel that. I want to taste it.” The sound of his gravelly tone made my back arch. “Run your finger up and down your clit for me.” My body was clenching to be filled, tightening as I rubbed. “Talk to me, Frankie. Tell me how it feels.”
“If feels…incredible.” My exhale ended with a groan. “I want more. More fingers, more pressure…more you.”
“Add another finger to your clit.”
“I want your fingers, Derek.”
He laughed. “You’ll have them soon enough. And more.”
“Are you touching yourself?”
“No, I’m not.” Even his denials were authoritative. “Have you added another finger?”
My middle and index fingers were running up and down my clit now. “Yes.”
“Push harder and flick your wrist faster.”
I increased the speed as my head fell back into the cushion. My mouth opened and let out a gasp. My body responded when I touched myself in the shower, but never with this intensity. The build was already there. “Derek…”
“The way you moan my name makes my dick so fucking hard.”
“You feel so good.” It didn’t make much sense, but giving in to his demands made it feel as if my fingers were his, as foreign and as unexpected as this new passion that brewed inside me.
“Faster.” His voice deepened. “Harder.” I could almost feel his lips caressing me again.
“Oh God…”
“Let me hear how wet you are.”
My hand slowed. “How do I do that?”
“Turn on your speakerphone, bend your knees and place the phone under your pussy.”
I did as he instructed, rubbing the whole time. I heard the slick sound of my fingers penetrating, slipping in and out of me…and now he did, too.
“Frankie,” he said. “That sounds so fucking good…so wet…so ready for me.”
“It is,” I told him, practically breathless now. “Let me have another finger.”
“What do you want to do with it?”
He spoke from between my legs. It felt as if he were there with me, doing this to me, his breath blowing against my skin. I closed my eyes and pushed my heels into the cushions. “I want to put it inside of me.”
“No.” There was noise in the background. I imagined him walking down a busy street—my street—standing on the sidewalk outside my building, looking through my window. That was impossible; I lived on the top floor, but the thought of him watching me do this turned me on even more. “You can have another finger,” he conceded, “but keep it on your clit.”
My hips began to grind against my hand. “Whatever you say, Mr. Block.”
“It’s a good thing I’m not there right now,” he hissed, “or you’d be getting one hell of a punishment.”
“You’d punish me?”
“For hours…until you screamed yourself hoarse.”
A quick shudder ran through my body. “That sounds painful.”
“You’ll love the reward. But you’ll learn to love the pain, too.”
“Shit, Derek,” I breathed. “I’m so close.”
“When I tell you to come, I want to hear how good it feels as it pulses through that exquisite body of yours.” I gripped the pillow at my side, dug my toes into the couch and waited for his command. “Faster, Frankie.” I circled faster. “Harder.” I brushed over my clit with greater pressure, more speed, writhing and churning...
“Now,” he said sternly, “come for me.”
The orgasm was already there, anticipating his approval. Once I had it, I felt it burst through my navel, exploding through my chest and down my thighs. I lost control of my body, my sounds—the shouting, the moaning, the gasping of his name as it all came to a quivering end.
“I hope you realize how amazing that sounded,” he panted.
I rested flat on the couch, erotic shivers still shooting through me. “I’m glad I could amuse you.”
“That was more than amusement.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. Masturbating over the phone was something completely new to me. As much as I enjoyed it, it was a bit embarrassing that he’d heard so much from me, yet I’d heard and touched so little of him.
“And Frankie?” His voice took an even more demanding tone. “What you just did? I don’t want that happening again.”
I reached for my wine and took a sip. “You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“You mean I can’t—”
“Touch yourself? No. You can’t.” The physical control was sexy, I couldn’t deny that. But there was no way he could know whether I touched myself or not. “And I will know if you do it, so don’t test me.” He seemed to have heard my thoughts. “Goodnight, Pink Ivory. Sleep tight.”
My breath caught at the last word.
He hung up before I had a chance to respond. I stared at the fingers that gripped my wine, slick from my insertion, leaving smudges on the glass as they dried. When I was in his presence, he controlled everything—my movements, the things that happened between us, when and how I came. And now, he was controlling my orgasms from a distance.
And I had done nothing to stop it from happening.
TWELVE.
DEREK
“I NEED YOU to get Frankie some high heels,” I instructed Will.
He stood in front of my desk taking notes on his phone. “Is there a certain kind you’d like?”
“There are kinds?”
“They’re like purses. They come in different styles, designers, brands.”
“You seem to know a lot about these things. Should I be worried?”
“My feet and my accessories are my business,” he said. I laughed at that. “Think of all the purses and shoes you’ve had me buy Hayden and your mom over the years. I’m an expert now.” Tamra’s text this morning agreed. She loved whatever Will had sent her and said she promised to wear it the next time we were together. I didn’t like the thought of that at all. “Does Frankie wear Louboutins, or Jimmy Choo, or…?”
“How the hell would I know?”
He sighed and scratched his stubbled jaw. His beard was still patchy, not nearly as thick as mine, but it was finally starting to come in. The construction crew had put down twenty bucks thinking Will wouldn’t grow one since he was more polished than the rest of us. I bet against the guys, and I planned on winning. So far, my boy wasn’t letting me down.
“Okay…tell me what they looked like and I’ll piece it together,” he said.
I tried to remember what Frankie had been wearing at the party, and at The Hole. In my office. All I could picture was the way her calves looked, and her thighs…and her ass. And what her pussy felt like when she’d kicked the heels off.
“Just get something black with a thin heel and at least four inches high.”
“Those are your only requirements?”
“Make sure they’re sexy. Make me want to eat them off her.”
“Black. Thin heel. Sexy. Edible.” He laughed as he wrote. “Got it. I’ll get in touch with Brea for the details. Anything else?”
I pictured her wearing them along with the bra and panties. “A garter that matches the other stuff,” I said. “A pair of stockings. And a jacket—a black one, with buttons and a tie that wraps around her waist.” My dick started to pitch a tent under the desk. It had been ten days since Frankie had first walked into my office, and fourteen since I’d come. I hadn’t let Tamra touch me. Frankie, either. And I hadn’t touched myself.
I was more than fucking ready to bust.
“Do you want to see any of this before I buy it?” he asked.
“No. I want to be surprised.” That was the same reason I hadn’t chosen any of the other items he had sent.
“You have a date and time in mind then, right?”
A date.
I hated the sound of that. It was so singular…final. The date I would finally get to have her and the following day when I wouldn’t be able to have her again.
“Three days from now,” I said. It would be Saturday night. I knew I couldn’t wait much longer than that.
My email chimed as a note from her appeared in my inbox.
He noted everything. “I’ll make sure it’s all delivered before. Anything else?”
I shook my head. “That’s it. Thank you.”
Will left as I read her email.
FROM: Jordan, Frankie
TO: Block, Derek
SENT: April 24, 9:17am
SUBJECT: Weekly Status Update, as you requested, Mr. Block
The photographer is scheduled to be at Timber Towers next Monday. I’ll confirm the time as soon as I have it. I want some shots of the view from the higher floors, the rendering, and the façade. The publications have been chosen and ad space has been purchased. Once we have the photos, I’ll be reaching out to my international investors. I do have one coming into town tomorrow so, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to bring him by the building. Also, I want to plan a broker’s open within the three weeks. Is there a day that works best?
-Frankie
P.S.: Thanks for last night. ;-)
She called me Mr. Block.
I wondered if she would still call me that if I showed up at her office, bent her over her desk and slapped her hard, tight ass…or better, shoved my dick inside it. Just the thought of it made me want to get in my Suburban and start driving.
It was a good thing I had been in Portsmouth last night when she had called or there was a chance she would have gotten my dick. At the very least, I would have eaten that perfect pussy for the second day in a row.
She was proving how much she wanted me, and she was trying to get more.
I’d have to reward her for that.
FROM: Block, Derek
TO: Jordan, Frankie
SENT: April 24, 9:19am
SUBJECT: Yes, Wednesday.
I miss the sound of your moans.
I would miss them even more when I wasn’t able to hear them again.
Fuck. I hated the thought of that.
I pulled up the website of the Blue Bay Hotel, my favorite hotel in Boston and clicked on the page for their spa. While my townhouse in the city was being renovated, I had stayed there for several weeks. The owner had even become a friend.
I reviewed their list of services and dialed Will’s extension. “Can you call Blue Bay and make sure the suite is available for Saturday night?”
“No problem. I’ll let you know what they say.”
Frankie’s reply came in.
FROM: Jordan, Frankie
TO: Block, Derek
SENT: April 24, 9:22am
SUBJECT: Wet. Again.
Why miss them when you can hear them right now?
That was the problem: her moans were all I wanted to hear—all damn day long. I couldn’t get enough of them, or of her screams, the way she breathed my name through those soft, seductive lips. Keeping her satiated was probably more satisfying to me than it was for her.
And it would be ending soon.
Hayden and I had to take Randy down, to make sure that bastard suffered, and that’s where my attention needed to be. I had promised my sister I would stay focused. But if things with Frankie went any further, if thoughts of her continued to consume me, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my end of the bargain. There wasn’t room for both. I had to choose, and I chose my sister. She was there before Frankie, and she’d be there long after.
That’s why I had to make sure our time together was the most memorable experience she ever had, that I’d ever had. Just enough that I could get her out of my head forever.
And then once it was over, Frankie Jordan would be my realtor, and nothing more.
“The suite is available,” Will said from my intercom.
I picked up the phone. “Book it for the night, please. Late checkout. A spa day for her, too.” I glanced at the spa’s webpage again. “Massage, facial, the works. Just make sure she gets pampered. Hair and make-up as well. Done, but not too done.”
“That’s quite a menu.”
“It’s quite an occasion,” I told him. “Can you also book a mid-level suite—second floor from the top?”
“Yep. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Good man.”
FROM: Block, Derek
TO: Jordan, Frankie
SENT: April 24, 9:23am
SUBJECT: April 27th
Don’t make plans for the day or night.
You’re mine.
In spite of telling her I wanted to keep things physical, I hadn’t mentioned my one night, one morning rule. I would have to tell her at the hotel. There was a chance she’d kick me out, despise me, void our contract and refuse to work with me again. I’d known the risks before I’d touched her the first time. I knew the ri
sks now.
Getting another chance to taste her would make it all worth it.
FROM: Jordan, Frankie
TO: Block, Derek
SENT: April 24, 9:25am
SUBJECT: You’re on my calendar.
I can’t wait.
THIRTEEN.
FRANKIE
DEREK’S EMAIL said there would be a driver arriving at my condo at ten in the morning. I’d been checking the time non-stop since I’d woken up. It was a few minutes before ten, so I threw some last minute items into my bag—an extra pair of panties in case he ripped the others, a second bottle of lotion if the first decided to explode, several more pairs of earrings so I would have choices—and headed for the elevator.
I rolled the suitcase, feeling how notably heavy it was. I had certainly over-packed for a one-night stay. I shifted my fingers continuously around the handle and realized how much I was fidgeting.
I was more nervous than I thought I’d be.
Derek hadn’t provided any details beyond asking me to pack a bag. Our communication over the last few days had been short and flirty and all conducted through email. I hadn’t invited him to come over again, and when I had stopped by Timber Towers with my client—the international investor who was in town—Derek wasn’t there.
Not only hadn’t I seen him or heard his voice, I also hadn’t touched myself. It hadn’t been easy to uphold his order, an order he reminded me of every day. There had been a few times when I had almost caved, my fingers tempting me in the shower, but the thought of tonight and my promise to Derek had kept me strong. Now the throbbing between my legs was becoming intolerable, and it didn’t help with my anxiety. Neither did not being privy to his plans.
I wanted him, more than anything, but the thought of him naked, and of me naked, spending the whole night together, and finally getting to experience what I’d been dreaming about…it was a lot to take in.