Page 4 of Wrong Number

“Just listen. Feel,” his deep voice drawled in a demanding tone that had my free hand moving down my body. “Cup those pretty, little tits for me, sweetness.” I did as he asked and moaned.

“Viv. Fuck,” he cursed. “Those little sounds you make,” he growled in a low tone. “They drive me insane, beautiful.”

Beautiful. He was very generous with compliments. I’d had men tell me I was pretty, but I never believed them. But I believed Nix. I believed a man who had never laid eyes on me because that’s exactly how I felt when he talked to me.

“Last night, listening to how wet that tight, little pussy got for me.” His words sounded strained. Like he was barely holding on to some kind of control. “All fucking day, baby, all day, those sweet sounds have been bouncing in my head, driving me crazy.”

“Mine, too,” I confessed in a soft tone. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Never thought I’d get this from you, Viv. My beautiful, dirty girl. I love listening to you. I can tell when you do something different, when you touch a different part of your body all by the way you breathe. Did you know that, kitten?” I turned onto my back and opened my leg wondering if it was true. The moment I grazed my already swollen clit, he made an animal-like sound.

“Just like right now.” I could swear, I had no idea how, but I knew he smiled in that moment. “Fuck.” He gulped for air. “Open those sweet legs for me.” I did as he asked, and somehow, he knew. “Wider,” he demanded deliciously. “What would you want if I were there?”

“Nix…” I had no clue what I would want. I’d had sex one time and one time only. And if I was honest, it hadn’t been much of an experience.

“Tell me.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Yes, you are. You know. Don’t get shy on me now, kitten, tell me.”

“I’d want your hand on my, umm…” God, I was lame! I was twenty-five! I wasn’t some blushing teenager, yet talking like this made me shy. I didn’t know why.

“Pussy?” The dirty word rolled off his tongue, and it felt like a shock of electricity hit the very spot he asked about.

“Yes.” I licked my lips. “I’d want you to tap it.” I had no idea what I was saying. I felt like it wasn’t coming out right. I wasn’t the best with dirty talk, and I really had to up my reading game with some yummy smut for the future if these late-night phone calls were going to keep happening.

“Tap it or smack it?” he asked roughly, and I could almost imagine him licking his lips before baring his teeth.

Like a man wound tight.

Just then, an image of a man popped into my head. One I’d only seen once during one of my cleaning shifts at the police department. Tall and strong with an intense expression on his masculine face. He hadn’t been classically handsome like a pretty boy. No. That man had been rough around the edges with a slight bump on the bridge of his nose that hinted at a really good story.

“Talk to me, kitten.” I felt slightly guilty for imagining a complete stranger while talking to Nix. Though, to be fair, he was a stranger, too.

“Smack,” I whispered with a tremble.

“Good girl.” The praise made me feel like I glowed from the inside out. “What else would my kitten want?” My kitten. His. Why did that possessiveness make me ache?

“You’d check how wet I am.”

“And how wet are you, baby girl?” he drawled slowly. A low sound escaped from the back of my throat when I slipped my fingers between my legs.

“So wet,” I whispered.

“Keep touching. Just pet that pussy for me. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Yes.” I licked my lips, and my breath hitched. The pads of my fingers skimmed back and forth between my folds. “I’m so wet, Nix,” I whimpered. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet,” I admitted, and suddenly, it was like a dam had been broken inside of me. I wanted, no, I needed him to know what I wanted. “I want more.” I could have easily just done it. slipped my finger inside of myself and started to work my body up, but I didn’t want to. I wanted him to lead and take control.

“Not yet. Keep teasing it. Imagine me there.” My eyes skated to the darkened corner.

He’d sit there and watch. Would his eyes be dark? Light? Intense? His hands, big and strong, would hold on to the armrests with a white-knuckled grip.

“Nix,” I whined.

“Fucking love how you say my name. Keep going.” I did as he asked, and when he told me to rub my clit, there was relief, but not enough. “Good girl. Just like that,” he encouraged, and I didn’t try to muffle the sounds I made. I couldn’t. I couldn’t think about anything but him and coming for him.

“Fuck! You have any idea how hard I am?” he grunted. I could make out the faint sounds of his hand working his dick. The slapping of flesh. Would it sound that way if he were in bed with me? Would he play with me? Let me play with him?

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