by M. S. Parker
"Sure...but can I ask you something?" The teasing note in his voice should have warned me.
I chewed on my lower lip. "What?" I asked warily.
"Were you thinking about me when you were masturbating?"
"I...you...damn it." The click announcing another call on the other end of the line seemed like a life preserver thrown to a drowning woman, so I said brusquely, "I have to go. Bye."
I hung up on him mid-laugh and answered much more cautiously. "This is Michelle."
"Michelle!" Aunt Blair sounded as sunny and happy as she had every time we talked. "Darling, the editors love the idea. It's a go. If you get it to me by Thursday, we'll go live Friday."
Shit.
Eleven
Michelle
I texted him.
After the embarrassing way I'd been caught earlier, texting just seemed...safer. It also gave me another idea for a short article, should Aunt Blair be interested in one.
Sexting had always seemed so...dull, but maybe it just took the right guy to dream about. And damn, did I ever have sexting material with Jake. I had every kind of material with the man.
Eying the text, I read it through a second time, then a third time.
I guess you are all smug and pleased with yourself, Mr. KOO (King of the O, in case you couldn't guess).
My bosses want some articles to post to twitter and Facebook while building up to the next one the magazine releases and they left the topics up to me.
I had an idea about doing Skype sessions and seeing if your prowess can hold up to the almighty internet. Are you game?
He'd responded in seconds, saying he was absolutely game. Then, to my amusement and horror, we set the time for nine...tonight.
In an effort to feel like I had some of the control, I'd worn a robe that even I had to admit look hella sexy on me. It was sheer black and through it, my nipples were visible, but only at certain angles. I'd tested it out earlier, sitting in front of the computer, the blinds drawn and candles lit, all the lights turned down low. I'd hoped it would help hide my damn blushes.
I didn't know if it worked, but even I had to admit, I looked hot.
Sweeping my hair up into a loose knot and wearing a simple, short teardrop necklace, I'd kept everything basic, because I didn't know what else to do.
It wasn't like I was trying to make this fancy or memorable for him. I wanted to remember it, so looking good and feeling good was kind of important for my sake.
But when he called, the look on his face...wow.
For one second, that practiced smile slid away and he looked...stunned.
"Hi," I said, my voice husky, both from anticipated arousal and lingering embarrassment at how he'd caught me red-handed earlier.
In turn, his voice sounded oddly strained as he replied, "Hi, back. You look stunning." By the time he'd finished speaking, the dazed expression had faded, and the smooth, easy smile was back in place, but I had the memory.
It was a sweet one too.
Reaching for my wine, I took a sip to wet my throat. "Have you ever done this sort of thing before?"
"I've got one client." He shrugged, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. The gesture seemed out of place with him, more of a nervous reaction than anything else. "She's...into this sort of thing more than the actual act."
I could relate to that. At least I could until he put his hands on me.
"Can I be honest?" Putting the glass of wine down, I said, "I don't even know where to start."
His eyes dropped to linger on my upper chest, a smile curving his lips. "Sugar, you already did. You answered my call looking like a wet dream come to life, and my dick is sitting up and begging for mercy. You started things just fine."
"Oh." Blood rushed to my cheeks. Determined not to let modesty or embarrassment or prudery get in the way, I asked, "What are we supposed to do?"
Jake leaned forward, his eyes intent on my face, as if he was sitting there and the computer monitors didn't even exist. "What were you doing when I called yesterday?"
"I...you know what I was doing."
"I want you to tell me," he said, voice gruff, a thread of command in it. "I want to hear it in your voice, see it in your eyes."
"I was...why are you asking?" I swallowed the nervous tremor in my voice, not even certain why I was so embarrassed, but I was.
"Because...this is how I start. I want to know how and why you were touching yourself. If you came. If you thought of me." His eyes moved briefly to my mouth. "Did you think of me, Michelle?"
With the way he watched me, I had no other choice but to respond. "Yes," I whispered.
His nostrils flared. "And how did you touch yourself?"
"I touched me the way you had." My brain, my modesty, rational thought, all of it melted away bit by bit. Without even considering what I was doing, I reached up and cupped my breast through the robe.
"Were you wearing a robe?"
"Yes."
His voice was raspy now. "Was it open or closed?"
"O-open." Clearing my throat, I met his eyes. "Should I open this one?"
"No. I like seeing your nipples peek at me through the black chiffon. It's hotter than hell." A harsh noise left him. "Pinch your nipples for me, Michelle. I want to see them get even harder."
I did, and I could almost imagine it was him doing it.
Almost. And even though it was my hands on my body, it was still erotically charged, wickedly hot.
"I'm going to tell you what to do," he said, his voice still a gravelly, rough drawl. "And you're going to obey. And by the time I'm done, both of us are going to be ready to come, and we'll watch each other as we do it. How does that sound?"
Hot.
But I just nodded.
"Take a sip of your wine, but don't swallow it."
"That's–"
"Do it, Michelle," he said softly.
So I did. I hadn't even had the wine in my mouth a second before the next command came. "You can swallow soon, but before you do, I want you to put your finger in your mouth so some of the wine is on your fingertip. Then you're going to rub your nipple with it."
My eyes flew open, and I stared at him.
"Do it."
I had a feeling I'd hear that command a lot.
I obeyed, closing my eyes. The sheer eroticism of it was startling, and when he told me to do the same for the other side, I did it without question.
"Can you imagine me licking it off your nipples now? Nod your head if you can."
I couldn't just imagine it. I was ready to beg to make it happen. But I didn't tell him that. I just nodded, and when he told me to go ahead and open my robe, I followed the order without comment. "Cup your breasts for me. Show me how you like to be touched."
His voice, raw and rough, was a guide for the next few moments, suggesting, asking, observing.
I went from tugging on my nipples to sliding a hand down between my thighs to tease the heat there, but once I'd done that, he wasn't content for me to be a silent participant anymore.
"I can't see you now, so you'll have to help me out. My imagination isn't as good as yours," he said, voice teasing. "How do you feel?"
I lifted my lashes a fraction.
He seemed to be waiting for it, and that beautiful mouth quirked in a smile. "Tell me what you feel like. I want to know how your cunt feels when you touch it."
The word on his lips was shocking.
"Cunt," he said again. "It's such a filthy word, isn't it? It's short for cunnilingus. My mouth on your cunt. Would you like that?"
"Yes."
"Then tell me what your cunt feels like. I might think about going down on you, Michelle, but you have to make me happy first."
I was so turned on, I almost came, my belly cramping with hot, vicious need.
"I'm...wet," I whispered, sliding one finger around my entrance.
"Were you this wet earlier when you were touching yourself and thinking about me?"
His eyes bored into
mine.
"Not...not this fast, no."
"But you did get wet, didn't you? When you were thinking about me?"
He would keep on pushing, I knew.
"Yes."
"Tell me what you thought about, what you were imagining."
My cheeks flamed.
"You're not touching yourself anymore. Don't stop. I want you stroking that hot, plump pussy for me."
A whimper broke out of me as my head fell back. I didn't know how much of this I could handle.
"Now talk," he ordered, voice hard.
"I was thinking about you on your knees in front of me. I was in my chair at first, and I thought about you kneeling in front of me and putting your mouth on me," I said, having to force each word out.
"Where, Michelle? Where did I put my mouth on you?" he demanded.
"My cunt."
"Good. Now use your fingers and fuck that cunt, imagine it's me and my mouth."
I moaned as I followed his orders, doing exactly as he said, clenching my thighs around my hand in a desperate effort to deepen the contact.
It was pointless, but it still felt so good.
"That's it," he muttered, voice raw. "Imagine me there, biting your nipples while you take my cock inside you. Can you feel me?"
"Yes." The low, raspy sound that came from my throat was foreign, alien to me.
"You're so close, Michelle. Why don't you come for me, sugar?"
It was like the climax had hovered right there, waiting for just those words before it exploded out of me. With a cry, I came, my pussy clamping down tight around my fingers as I leaned forward and rode them, almost able to imagine it was his cock. Almost.
"That's it. Soon, I'm going to have you riding me like that, sugar."
I opened my eyes, desperate to see him. He was standing in front of the computer, a foot or so back. His cock out, hand around it as he pumped, slowly. Back and forth.
I licked my lips, and the thought of having him inside my mouth leaped into my mind.
"You look like you want to be licking cock instead of your own lips. Do you?"
The words made me shudder, and I felt another warning clench deep in my belly.
"Do you?" he barked.
"Yes!"
He fisted his cock faster, harder.
"Keep fucking that hand, Michelle. Keep it up. And imagine it's me there. I want you to think about me being there, pulling you up off that chair and bending you over your desk. I'm going to do it too. I'll bend you over that desk, pull that robe up and sink my dick into you from behind – maybe even into your ass. Have you had that done, sugar?"
"No." Naked licks of fear and lust tripped up through as I continued to watch him jerk off, and then, I couldn't watch anymore. I came so hard, my lungs shutting down until I couldn't breathe, and I stared, unable to see anything else except the sight of his hand pumping and stroking – and then he came.
Right there.
He didn't even attempt to hide it or turn away.
He let me see it, and I felt an answering clench in my womb.
"Michelle..." he rasped, sinking back down into the chair.
I met his eyes, feeling raw and exposed.
He looked at me, and for a second, I thought I saw something in his eyes. But then he quirked a smile at me.
"That's not a bad way to spend a phone call."
The screen went blank a second later.
Twelve
Jake
I hadn't lied to Michelle when I told her I had a client who preferred to Skype me instead of actually meet me.
Each time, I managed to talk her into finding an orgasm, although I was under no illusions that I had some audible compulsion to bring women sexual satisfaction.
No, we talked dirty and I convinced her to use the sex toys she had in abundance, and she reached the climax on her own once she let her guard down.
Annika was a recluse, torn up with issues of leaving her home and being around people. But the agoraphobia and anxiety around people wasn't anything I could help her with. Sex...different story.
However, I'd never once felt all that sexually interested with Annika. I almost felt like a therapist.
It was a far cry from what I was doing with Michelle in the evenings. We'd spent four of the past six nights having Skype-sex, and if I didn't get her naked and have real sex, as in her pussy snug and hot around my dick, I thought I'd explode.
But that would have to wait until tomorrow at the earliest because I had two clients on the schedule today. One was just a date. A meeting with a potential new client, then I was scheduled to meet up with Alisha.
That wasn't a date, and that was where things got complicated. Complicated because while I was currently sitting on the couch in the boutique hotel where we preferred to meet, with my hands on the curve of her very nice ass, I was having a hard time getting into it.
Alicia slid her mouth from my lips down to my neck. Letting my head fall back against the couch, I closed my eyes.
The last time I talked to Michelle had been two nights ago. Then, we'd done some seriously dirty talking and a little bit of role play where I'd teased her about showing up at her apartment. I even pushed it further than I should have by asking her for her address, and she'd given it to me. Part of me was flabbergasted that she'd done it. The other part of me had been ready to shut down the fricking computer and haul ass out of my place so I could get to hers.
All I'd wanted since then was to go to her, put my hands on her and bring every dirty, torrid fantasy we'd talked about to fruition. I was the king of orgasms and fantasies – not phone sex.
Hands covered mine. Hands. Not Michelle's.
It was enough of a reality crasher that I managed to bring myself back to the present, reminding me that I was with Alicia. I liked her. Things with her were fun and easy, no complications and she paid well.
This was an arrangement that suited both of us. Sometimes I was able to glean information from her, and she got sex. Her husband, quietly gay and very much in the closet, didn't mind her affairs as long as she was discreet, and I was nothing if not discreet.
I'd never once had trouble keeping my focus on her.
Until now.
Opening my eyes, I looked at Alicia as she slid off my lap and knelt on the floor between my thighs. She wore a sleek black dress that highlighted a figure that couldn't have been more appealing if she'd stepped off the cover of Playboy magazine.
Yet I found myself wishing for a woman with a sweet smile and rich, red hair, blue green eyes that made me think of tropical oceans.
"Have I mentioned before that I love how you look in a tux?" Alicia asked.
We'd met up at a fundraiser that was a pet project of hers. She liked it when we could meet in plain sight, talk about nothing and everything without anybody realizing what was going on, then I'd leave and come to the hotel here while she finished up playing hostess. I might wait an hour, or half the night.
That was part of the appeal for her, having a man wait for her instead of the other way around for once.
I didn't really care most of the time, but tonight it had been a big mistake because I'd spent that one and a half day dreaming about Michelle. Now I couldn't get the thought of her, the taste of her, the feel of her out of my head.
"I think you've mentioned it once or twice," I said, keeping my attention on the job at hand.
She smoothed her hands down her sides, drawing attention to the lush curves poured into the sleek black dress before she turned around and caught her hair in her hand.
"Unzip me?"
Rising, I did so, pausing to drop a kiss on her shoulder. There was no real interest in it though, and I wanted to smack my head against the nearest wall.
Get your act together, King, I told myself.
When she turned around, I cupped her face in my hands. Then I did something I'd never done.
I imagined I was kissing somebody else.
And not just somebody. A specific somebody
.
Michelle.
Her mouth, soft and hesitant under mine. Her tongue, sliding past my lips, hesitant and shy.
But the woman I was kissing was anything but shy. The kiss didn't fit. It was enough of a disconnect that every time I started to find myself getting into it, I had to do a reset.
And Alicia noticed.
She eased back, clearing her throat.
Something happened then that hadn't happened in all the years I'd been doing this. I felt awkward – awkward and out of place.
Alicia either felt it or saw it, because she eased the dress sagging around her shoulders back up into place, reaching behind her to tug the zipper up.
"Maybe it's just years of practice," she said lightly. "But when a man is thinking about somebody else and kissing me, I can tell."
I flinched, her words hitting right on target.
"Jake..." She reached up and cupped my cheek. "It's okay." She tugged me down and pressed her lips to the corner of my mouth. "I figured out a long time ago that serious emotional commitment wasn't in the cards for me and that's...okay. It's messy and painful and frankly? Those serious emotional commitments can be annoying. But that doesn't mean it's not the right fit for everybody."
"Alicia..." I covered her hand with mine, squeezing gently.
She smiled back at me, the expression in her eyes wry. "Can I offer you some advice, big guy?"
"I'm yours for the night. You can do whatever you want."
She laughed softly. "That's the thing...you're not mine. Not for the night, not for anything. I can tell. You're not into this any more than I'm into eating tofu, no matter what I tell my dietician. So...go find whoever this is you're thinking of, and lay those kisses on her."
An hour later, I sat in my car, staring up at the building in front of me.
It was ironic.
I'd had a client who lived here once.
She'd moved out of town not long after her divorce six months ago, but she'd lived here. Had I ever walked past Michelle without noticing her?
I had no idea.
I don't know what it was that had drawn me to her, but something had and whatever in the hell it was, the pull was strong enough to yank me off course.