Page 10 of The Last Call
“I’m glad.” He nods toward his phone resting on the textured glass top. “I’ve got one more call and then I’ll join you inside.”
And like the good girl I’m pretending to be, I hop up from his dismissal and place another lingering yet chaste kiss on his cheek before I sweep inside. An enticement of things to come.
The huskiness of his voice remains throughout his discussion. It’s been two weeks, and I know how much he needs this. How much he needs me. I bundle my hair into a ponytail with the thin black band on my wrist, and shrug off my dark apricot ruffled dress. Revealing his outfit hidden underneath for him.
He stands in the doorway watching me. Julius would walk right in.
Damn it! I can’t be thinking about him now. I’ve got to get my mind and my body back to David.
My fingers strum over the bare skin of my midriff, tempting him with everything above and below my hand. I look up and shiver, pretending I’ve caught him checking me out. “Oh…hi.”
That earns me a slow approving nod. “You’re cute. Real cute.”
“But, do you think my skirt is too short?”
I twist around, with enough twirl so the thin plaid fabric flutters. Lifting the hem to reveal my pure white panties embellished by tiny red hearts on the ass.
“No, not at all.” Desire strains his voice, and if we hadn’t role played this scenario twenty times before I wouldn’t have been able to make out his words. “How old are you?”
Feigning hesitation, I fiddle with the turquoise jewel in my belly button. “I just turned eighteen. Barely legal.”
He sucks in a deep breath. Not pretending anymore. Not faking at all how much that turns him on. His head bobs again. “Barely legal.”
“Yes.” I step closer. Licking my lips as his hands clench and release. Over and over. Desperate to touch me. To strip me. To take me. But not quite yet. Savoring the buildup is his choice, not mine. “Is that okay?”
“What do you want from me, little girl?”
Now he sounds frustrated. Almost angry. More at himself than me. I know how much he wishes this was real. The bulge in his luxurious black dress pants twitches when I reach out and tug his belt. So close to where he wants my hand and my mouth, but too soon. Still not quite yet. “I want you to be my Daddy.”
“To always love you and take care of you and never leave you?”
Damn, he really is fucked up over his father. Even more than I am from mine. “Yes.”
Unable to hold back from my breathless whisper, he advances. Following the same trail across my stomach that I did. Brushing the waistband of my scrap of a skirt. I flex my abdomen muscles that feels like a flutter in response to his touch. Thanks to years spent in the gym giving me—or more accurately him ? a little confirmation of arousal when there really is none.
As always the trick works and he groans, deep and guttural, and his fingers slide lower. Breaking the final forbidden cloth barrier to my smooth pussy. Playing an uncertain teenager from his bold move, I gasp and drive my hand down with his. The perfect opportunity to coat my lips with the hidden lube drizzled on my fingertips. A slick technique I learned long ago since no man has ever been able to get me off. He moans again when together we glide through the wetness and I guide him to my clit, where I lead him through the touches I need to make me really come. Letting him think all along it’s him. Letting every man think it’s them.
His buzzing phone mingles with his heavy panting. A rare interruption since his staff knows his Sundays are dedicated to the Lord. They just don’t know it’s me he’s worshiping instead this morning.
“David?”
Annoyed with the disturbance, he strokes too hard. His caress impatient and hurried. Ruining the orgasm slowly igniting inside me. Which is fine. Like most women, I’ve learned to fake my pleasure. At least I’m lucky enough to be paid for my performance.
“Ignore it.”
His game, his choice. “Okay, Daddy. Whatever you want.”
My body jerks upward. Forcing me to stand on my tippy toes from his sudden harsh yank of my tee shirt. “What I want is to watch you come all over my hand.”
The answer growls out through gritted teeth. Making me pretty certain he’s going to come first and probably the only one between us unless he lets me take over again. “Then touch me. Fuck me like a baby girl needs to be fucked.”
He shoves me backward, and I free fall onto the bed. Sprawling very unladylike with my legs splayed open and my shirt pushed up enough to show the alluring swell of my breast line. The lust flaming in his gaze confirms he doesn’t care about the lack of sophistication in my wanton display. Only wants more than the preview I’ve teased him with. Stalking toward me until he stops, biting out a curse word in reaction to the clatter of jangling flatware from the vibrating cell shaking closer to the place settings. He jerks around. Flying back to the balcony and swiping the offending technology off the glass.
“What the fuck is this?” His head flies up from scanning the screen. Absolute fury raging within him. “You’re fucking blackmailing me?”
A shudder rolls through me. More from his accusation than his anger. The allegation the last thing I ever expected him to say. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know.”
