Page 5 of Wrong Number

“You got a clue how fucking much I want you, Viv?”

“Nix!” I cried. I needed more.

“Yes, finger that pussy for me. But with two fingers now. Stretch it nice and wide for me because I’m not a small man, beautiful,” he ordered.

Again, that cop from a month or two ago popped up in my head. He wasn’t a small man in the least. He’d pin me down on my bed, his wide, strong body tucked next to me, sharing his body heat with me while he fingered me. Hard and ruthless. His wide, long digits wouldn’t show me any mercy, and I wouldn’t want it. My toes started to curl, and sweat started to form over my brow.

“Nix, oh, oh…”

“Find it, kitten,” he hissed. “Come for me, pretty girl!” And just like that, like he had some kind of detonation button, I shattered. My body thrashed as wave after wave of bliss took me over before I floated back slowly to my body snuggled tight in my bed. It wasn’t until a moment after that I heard him come, and the sound made me horny all over again.

“Fuck,” he cursed, and I could tell he was having a hard time catching his breath.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. I snuggled my face into my pillow. “I’m fucking great. You?”

“Good. Cozy.”

“Shit.” He swallowed. “I wish I were there.”

“Mmm.” I breathed in with a smile as my eyes started to flutter shut. I wished he were here, too. “What would you do if you were here?”

“I’d be your big spoon.”

“That sounds nice.” I’d never done that with anyone.

“It would be fucking great. You could be my little spoon.”

“I think I could manage that.” My eyes stated to grow heavier.

“I missed talking to you today,” he noted, and I sighed.

“I’m sorry. Work was really busy. I wanted to text you at lunch but?—"

“What?”

“I had to work through it.” I hated my job. I hated calling people and asking them to pay their bill. I hated that I had to be mean and listen to their stories of hard times and act like I didn’t care.

“Work through lunch?”

“Yeah. My boss was on one. You know how they can get.” He grunted again, and I snuggled deeper into my pillow. “How was your day?”

“Boring,” he muttered, and as sleepy as I was, I giggled.

“Tonight was fun.” I winced at my words. Tonight was fun. God! I was so lame!

“You think tonight is over?” My eye popped open to glance at the digital clock on my nightstand because taking him away from my ear to look at my cell phone felt like it’d somehow make him farther away than he already was.

“I wish we could keep talking but?—"

“You gotta work?” he guessed. I nodded despite the fact he couldn’t see me.

“I’m sorry.”

“There's nothing to be sorry about,” he muttered.

“I know, but for the record… I just… I’d rather talk to you than get up and clean.”

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