by Meghan Quinn
“What’s the point of this phone call?”
“So I can see you.”
“What did we say, Walker? We can’t be doing this.”
“The fuck I care.”
His determination is strong and back in full force. It took a few days to simmer, only to come back to boiling.
“Why did you answer the phone?”
We’re going in circles, but I don’t care.
I look to the side, taking a deep breath. “Because I can’t resist you.”
“You can’t resist me? Bullshit, if you couldn’t resist me, then my hand would be on my straining cock right now, pumping my length as I stare at your naked body.”
My mouth goes dry as the throb between my legs increases. Aroused—that’s how he makes me feel. In seconds, with his truth, he turns me on.
Mouth parched, but wanting to know the answer, I ask, “Are you hard right now, Walker?”
He doesn’t answer but slowly—and I mean slowly—angles the phone down.
His thick pecs come into view, then his tattooed side—the dark ink draws my attention before my gaze falls to the deep divots of his defined abs, abs I wish I could suck on one by one—and finally the edge of a sheet that barely skims over his trimmed happy trail.
With bated breath, I hold the air in my lungs, my hand skimming over my chest as I wait to see what’s a few inches lower.
Torturing me, he pauses for a few more seconds, before angling the phone down to his erection.
Thick.
Long.
And completely turned on. His cock twitches underneath his sheet.
He’s covered, but it doesn’t matter—the white of the sheet does nothing to hide the definition of what I felt between my legs the other night, from what I rubbed up against.
I’m transported back to our night together, when I was riding him with just his briefs between us. The look of satisfaction on his face, the imprint of his hands into my hips, the way his muscles convulsed as we both came.
My hand trails down my body past my aroused breasts, past my soft stomach, to my bare pussy, where I trail two fingers up and down my slit.
Briefly I close my eyes, surprised at how wet I already am.
“What are you doing?” he barks, causing my eyes to snap open.
“Huh?” I ask breathlessly, shifting lower on the bed and spreading my legs.
In a husky tone, he asks, “Are you touching yourself, Kate?”
I nod. “Mm-hmm.” I’m unable to stop. Once my fingers hit my sleek heat, there’s no turning back.
“Fuck. Babe, let me see.”
I shake my head. “No. That’s crossing a line.”
“You’re masturbating to the sight of my cock, that’s not crossing a line?”
“It is, but we have to redraw a line somewhere.” I sigh, lolling my head to the side as the phone drops a few inches.
God, pay attention, Kate.
Focus.
This isn’t a peepshow.
Chapter Forty-Four
WALKER
I fist my cock, all the blood in my body rushing to one point from the sight of Kate losing control.
Her eyes close as she sighs and the phone drops to reveal the swell of her breasts. My cock twitches in my hand as another surge of arousal washes over me like a molten tidal wave.
This woman will be the death of me.
“Kate,” I say in a strangled voice. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
“I’ll come. I don’t want to come yet.”
“Fuck, you’re that close?” I pump harder.
“Keep talking. God,” she groans, “I love your voice, Walker. So raspy, so deep. It’s a huge turn-on for me.”
“You saying that’s a turn-on.” I slouch on my bed and prop the phone on the nightstand so she gets a side view of my body, from my belly button up. “What are you thinking about?” I ask, wondering what’s going on in that gorgeous head of hers.
How dirty is she?
Based on our grinding session, I’m going to guess pretty dirty.
“You, on top of me, pressing your lips across my collarbone, down to my breasts, but you don’t touch my nipples. Instead, you let your scruff rub across the sensitive skin, your tongue peeking out every once in a while.”
“Do you want me to play with your tits?”
“God, yes, but I want you to tease me. I want you to tease me so hard that I’m aching deep inside, begging for release, throbbing so uncontrollably that I feel the faint twinge of my orgasm. But then you pull away and move your head down past my stomach, where you’d rest your chin between my legs and carefully spread my lips apart.”
“I would fuck you with my tongue.”
“Not yet,” she whispers. “I would want you to just stare at me, let the soft air of the room turn me on even further.”
“Fucking hell.” I squeeze my eyes shut, loving the beautiful picture she’s painting for me.
“It would be the slightest of touches, the smallest movements, that would get me so wired, so on edge, that I would combust in seconds the minute you press the flat of your tongue against my clit.”
“Shit, Kate. I’m right there with you.”
“God, me too. I’m so hot for you, Walker,” she moans and her breathing picks up even more. “Look at me,” she says.
I open my eyes and turn my head to look at my phone on the nightstand. She’s still holding the phone at the same angle, and instead of seeing her writhing tits, she’s covered by the sheet again. But I can see the side of her body, and that’s all it takes. I pump faster, harder as my balls tighten.
“Fuck . . . Kate . . . I’m—”
I’m cut off by the feral sounds of her crying out in ecstasy. A low groan pops out of me as I come all over my stomach, shot after shot, spurting over my contracting abs. I continue to pump my cock until my orgasm eases and I’m completely spent. Not entirely satisfied, though, because I don’t think I’ll ever be satisfied until I’m inside of her.
“Oh my God,” she breathes, her arm draped over her eyes. “I can’t believe I just did that.”
I chuckle and say, “I can’t believe I just came with you again and have yet to see you completely naked.”
She looks at the screen. “Isn’t it more fun this way?”
“Fuck no.”
She lets out a throaty laugh, and that angelic sound, hell . . . it helps me relax, sink into my mattress, and forget everything else around us.
Pulling her sheets up higher, she turns on her side and props the phone up on her nightstand. She then tucks her hands under her pillow and says, “You’re sexy when you come.”
I mimic the position and say, “Yeah?”
She nods. “You make these sexy, deep grunts, like you can’t hold back anymore and you just . . . let loose.”
“Pretty much what happens.”
“I like it.”
“I like you,” I say, nodding in her direction. I catch the blush that stains her cheeks right before she looks away.
She’s silent for a second but then says, “You know, I lost a sibling too.”
I recall the conversation we had about her younger brother. I can’t believe I forgot about that. “Your brother.”
She nods. “It’s never easy, losing someone so close to you, but when you realize how young they were, the kind of life they could’ve had, it eats away at your heart.” Her eyes flash to mine. “Is that how you feel? Like something is constantly gnawing at you? Shredding your heart, one layer at a time?”
I swallow hard, shocked that she could so eloquently describe the feeling of losing a sibling and make it so goddamn relatable. “Yeah,” I say softly. “That’s exactly how it feels.”
“Something big happens in your life, and you wonder if they were here with us, what would they say? How big would their smile be? What kind of pride would they have in their heart for you?”
“Every goddamn day.” I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. “She’d have
loved watching me play in the big leagues. There’s no doubt she would’ve tried to be at every game, wearing my jersey, and enjoying a big bowl of popcorn. She was always a sucker for popcorn.”
“Would she add anything to it? Like M&Ms?”
I shake my head. “No, plain. She kept it simple. I tried giving her a big tin of Garrett Popcorn once, the original mix of cheddar and caramel. Oh man, was that a mistake.”
“Did she not eat it?”
“Nope, she forced me to eat it. Told me she wasn’t into anything fancy.”
Kate laughs. “I think Dawn and I could’ve been good friends.”
My heart aches from the thought of it. “She would’ve loved you too. Easily. A girl who puts me in my place, doesn’t take shit from me, and has a warm, compassionate heart—yeah, she would’ve clung to you.”
“Will you show me a picture of her?”
I pick up my phone and go to my text messages. I click on the image icon and go to my favorites album, where I have pictures of Dawn in a folder. Thank fuck Dawn used to ask me to take so many photos with her on her trusty Nikon, otherwise I’d have nothing of her. I wouldn’t have survived. The photos aren’t very clear, given they’re just photos I’ve loaded from my PC, but they show her joy. Her love of life. God, I miss her so much. Every day.
I choose the one that I love the most, me and her outside on the baseball field. She’s wearing my hat and jersey and sporting a giant smile. I send it to Kate and then set my phone back on the nightstand.
“It’s one of my favorite pictures ever,” I say.
Kate picks up her phone and looks at the picture. I catch the endearing expression on her face. “She looks just like you, Walker, minus the brooding eyebrows and curl of your lip,” she teases with a grin and then sets her phone back on the nightstand. “You two looked very happy. Were you always close?”
“Always,” I say. “My parents always told me I was to be her protector, to watch over her, but in reality, Dawn was the protector between the two of us. She’d defend me to the moon and back in the stands, chasing down anyone who would say something bad about me. She was a lioness and owned it. She never let her arm crutches hold her back, but thrived with them and had no problem using them as a weapon.”
“Really?” Kate chuckles.
“Oh yeah. She whacked a few of my teammates before, telling them to get their heads out of their asses. She was loved.” A small smile passes over my lips. “Penn had a shit game once and I can remember the look of total shock on his face when Dawn went up to him, placed her crutch on the center of his chest and told him he had two options before his next game—to either remove his scrotum veil that had seemed to stretch over his head and play well, or . . . be a scrotum head for the rest of his life.”
Kate lets out a full belly laugh. “Let me guess, in your eyes, he chose to be a scrotum head for the rest of his life.”
I laugh with her. “Yeah, he did.” I let out a sigh and snuggle closer to my pillow. “She was a wise one.”
“Seems as though she was.”
Staring at Kate and the way her hair nearly falls over her face, I desperately want to reach through the phone and push it behind her ear. I want to be sharing the same bed, enjoying this moment with her in person, rather than through a screen.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks. “There’s a crinkle in your brow.”
“I wish you were here in person, so I can thank you.”
“Thank me for what?”
“For taking a shitty day and putting an epic spin on it. For helping me see the good when the bad is clashing like a thunderous cloud over my head. For reminding me of the good times.”
She smiles softly, and all it makes me want to do is kiss her again, but for longer than five seconds, for so much longer, and not just minutes, but days, years. “I’m not saying I’m an expert when it comes to losing a sibling, but what I do know is that focusing on the good times has helped me through the bad.”
“Well, you helped me through a shit night tonight.” I wish I could drag my thumb across her cheek. “I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”
“I’m glad.”
“Thank you for calling back and pressing me for answers.”
“Thank you for being open with me.” She yawns.
“I should let you get to bed, it’s late in Chicago.”
“It is.” She sighs. “We crossed that line again, Walker.”
“Guess what?”
“What?” she asks.
“I don’t give a fuck, and I would do it again . . . and again . . . and again, if it meant getting to see your beautiful face.”
Her eyes slowly close and then open again. Satisfied, she says, “Good night, Walker.”
“Good night, Kate.”
Chapter Forty-Five
KATE
“I don’t think we can go with the live band; it takes up too much room on the stage.” Pen poised at her lips, Audrey observes the space, tapping her pen every once in a while. “The live band would’ve been so much fun though.”
Assessing the space from next to her with Vivian to my right, I ask, “Can you offset the room?”
“What do you mean?” Audrey asks, still looking over the stage.
I unfold the room design we have planned for the firefighter fundraiser and lay it out on my clipboard so both ladies can look it over. “Instead of taking a streamlined, centered approach with the banquet space, what if we did pockets instead?” I motion with my pen, drawing little circles around the space. “Here, we can tuck away the band on the stage, have the focus to the right be on the podium. Looking at where the data projector is, we might be able to have a projection wall drop from the ceiling, so we don’t have to use the screen in the middle. Then all around the space, we can make pockets of the different activities and auction items, so we have a rotation of the room rather than a stacked approach.” I quickly make adjustments on the piece of paper to show them what I’m talking about.
Silently, Audrey picks up the paper and examines it more closely, occasionally peeking her head up to take in the space. Finally, she says, “This is brilliant, Kate. We’d have room for the band, and if we use the circular curve of the space rather than go against it, I bet we could fit more tables and expand our ticket sales.”
“By fifty,” I say. “We can only go up fifty more people because of the fire code. Since we took out the eight-foot rounds and replaced them with high tops, we granted ourselves more space, but we can only max out at fifty more. And we don’t want to mess with fire code at a fundraiser for firefighters.”
“True.” Audrey laughs. “But fifty more people will work for me. Let me go find Sherry and see if I can talk to her about draping the projection. Hold tight.”
Audrey takes off toward the back of the banquet space, leaving me alone with Vivian, who nudges my shoulder in excitement. “Look at you being all design smart.”
I fluff my hair with one hand, showing off. “You can call me Master to all Special Events.”
She chuckles and then studies me thoughtfully. “You know, you’ve been different the last couple of days.”
“Yeah, how so?”
Studying me some more, finger pressed to her chin, she says, “Happier.”
Well . . . probably because over the last week and a half I’ve had two of the naughtiest sexual experiences of my life and I wasn’t even naked for one of them.
Three nights ago, I came so hard on my hand and just from the thought of Walker hovering over my body, doing all the dirty things I was saying. In that moment, I was an inferno. I could feel his mouth over my skin, his voice rumbling over me, soft and sexy. Even though he was hundreds of miles away, it felt as though he was in the room, and the more he swore and encouraged me, the more my arousal spiked, and before I knew it, I was coming the hardest I’ve come in a long time.
I’ve had my fair share of flings that have been amazing, but there’s something different about Walker. It’s as if he’s burie
d himself deep inside my bones and I can’t shake him.
It’s why I answered the phone when he called.
Why I called him back.
Why I allowed him to FaceTime me.
Why I stuck my hand between my legs and fingered myself to completion while listening to his heavy breathing and the stroke of his strong hand over his incredibly thick cock.
What I wouldn’t give to have his hands all over my body. The sexiest pair of hands I’ve ever seen. Worn and weathered, large and muscular, they’re the kind of hands that take control and can make a woman weep from pleasure.
“Hello?” Vivian snaps her finger in front of me.
A huge smile spreads across my face so I quickly look down. “Oh, umm, yeah. I’m happy. Job is great.”
“Ohhh no, that is not a ‘my job is great’ kind of smile. That’s the kind of smile that says ‘I’m infatuated with a penis.’”
I blush as I think back to Walker’s penis hidden under his sheet. I wanted so badly for him to tear his sheet down, but if he did, I would’ve felt obligated to do the same, and I wasn’t ready for that.
“Who is it? Are you seeing someone?”
“Umm”—I look away—“not really, no.”
“But you’re smiling like a fool.”
I cover my mouth with my hand, ridding myself of the evidence. “Because you’re making me feel weird, so I’m smiling.”
“That is such a lie.” She leans forward. “Who is it?”
“No one. I was just, you know, talking to this one guy. That’s all.”
“Seems as if you’re doing more than just talking.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“We just talk.” And dry-hump . . . once.
“I don’t believe you.” Her phone rings at that moment and when she looks at the screen, she groans and then points at me. “We aren’t done with the conversation. You hear me?” She answers the phone in a sweet voice despite her annoyance for the caller.
Abandoned by both my colleagues, I take a seat on the stage stairs and pull out my phone to catch up on emails. That’s when I see a text from Walker.