Page 62 of Callback
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Marly
Icollapsed ontothe bed, the ringing phone pressed against my ear. “Come on… pick up. Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up…” I dropped one foot to the floor in an effort to stop the room from spinning. Stupid bourbon.
“Marly,” Omar said, his voice sleep-laden and graveled.
I sniffled, closing my eyes against the hot tears threatening to spill over my cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” Omar asked, concern replacing the grogginess.
“It’s Jude,” I whispered. “Well… Jude and bourbon.”
On the other line, I heard another man’s voice, muffled… murmuring, “Who is it?”
I stiffened, pressing the back of my head harder into the pillow. “Oh, God. You have someone there with you,” I whispered, as if Omar’s date could hear me. Hell, maybe he could. Was that smart? For him to have taken someone home? Then again, was it freaking smart for me to be here at a BDSM club with Jude Fisher? “I’m sorry, Omar. I’ll just—I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Marly, wait,” Omar said and I heard the rustling of covers and a door shut on the other line. “Talk to me. What happened?”
“Nothing,” I sobbed. “Andeverything.” I launched into the story of the last two nights. Everything from chatting with Ash, to wanting to explore another Dominant’s force, to changing my mind when standing there with Ash and looking out at Jude. “I want to be with him,” I said, finally. “And not just to hook up for a night. I want to cook dinner with him. Go shopping together. Decorate a Christmas tree. Meet his mom, who by the way, sounds badass. Oh, God, Omar…” I clenched my hand against the silk dress, the delicate fabric rippling beneath my tight grip. My other hand flew to the antique choker and I ran the tips of my fingers over the cameo. “I love him.” My sobs deepened, heaving in my chest, and the tears spilled down the sides of my face.
“Then why are you crying?” Omar asked, his voice soft.
“Because I don’twantto love him. I told myself I wouldn’t do this again. That I wouldn’t wind up with another Jack—”
“Whoa. Okay. I don’t know Jude all that well, but Jack’s an ass. And from the little encounters I’ve had with Jude, he is nothing like your ex. Besides, you weren’tin lovewith Jack.”
That was true. I cared about Jack. But we barely had a chance to fall in love before he was using his power as director over me. I inhaled a shaky breath, my tears quieting and swiped my palms over my damp cheeks. “What do I do? I tried to tell him earlier tonight about our fake engagement, but… I don’t think he’s going to listen to me.”
“Baby… you’re inlove.” Omar chuckled. “However you tell him… it’s got to be bold. Just because you’re a submissive now, doesn’t mean you’re notfierce. Besides, you got that liquid courage thing going for you at the moment.”
My eyes traveled to the nightstand and I opened the top drawer. A smile replaced my tear stained frown.Be fierce. Hell, this idea was fierce… it was sexy as hell. But was it smart? I would never do this sort of thing soberly. But with a glass of booze coursing through my veins? “I can be fierce,” I whispered, running my fingers along the edge of the nightstand.
“Oh, I know you can. Go get him, Boo.”
I disconnected the call and jumped to my feet, washing my flushed, tear-ridden face and splashed some cool water on my swollen eyes. “I love him,” I said to myself.The strongest people feel the pain, understand it… and accept it.I closed my eyes. That’s what this feeling of love was. The ultimate pain. Tearing my once wounded heart from my chest and placing it in another person’s hands to tend to. Isn’t that what BDSM was all about? Giving yourself, mind, body, soul—pleasure, pain, everything. And trusting your Dom to do right by you? Was there much of a difference between BDSM and love?
I launched myself off the sink and rushed for the nightstand, not bothering to change out of my dress. I tugged open the drawer, pushed aside the box of Ben Wa balls Jude had given me the other day—later. I’d use those later. Instead, I grabbed a collar with bells on it and the vibrating tongue ring.
Rule #6– If Poppy chooses to masturbate, she must call Jude and wear her collar of bells so that he may listen to her as she orgasms.
Nerves collided in my belly, bouncing around and off each other until I thought I might be sick. I cinched the belled collar around my neck, over the Victorian choker. Then, laying back against the bed, I slipped the tongue ring on my thumb, pressing the small button to turn it on. Vibrations slammed against my knuckle, sending shivers up my arm.
Turning my head on the pillow, I dialed Jude’s number and set the phone beside my ear. I then slid my hand beneath the tight elastic of my panties, gliding my finger over my clit. The sharp vibrations brushed over me and my sex clenched hard with wanton desire.
His phone rang twice before he answered.
“Marlena?” he said.
I sighed a quiet moan and the bells gave a light jingle with the movement. The low rumble of his voice sent nervous electricity shooting through me. What if he never spoke to me again after this? What if he hated me? Wanted nothing to do with me? Despite these doubts, the fears, my body responded to the vibrations against my clit, arousal budding. My hips pulsed as I used my thumb to circle the slick rubber toy over my tight, wet nub. My back arched, sending the bells on my neck into a chorus of jingles.
“Marly?” he gasped. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, God,” I whispered and slid my free hand up my body to cup my breast. Tugging at the neckline of my dress, I freed one nipple, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger as I plunged my other finger deep inside my wet core. I tensed around my fingers, my muscles squeezing and aching for release. I pictured Jude’s face. His stunning green eyes inches from mine, searing into me as he propped his body over top of me.
I slid a second finger inside, pumping them faster while my vibrating thumb worked my clit. His voice… Jude’s voice was so sexy, especially when saying my name. So deep and masculine with perfect diction—and I wanted to hear that proper voice lose it. Cry out my name. Convulse in pleasure. Gasp in my ear as his teeth came down scraping across the fleshy part of my earlobes.
I moaned again, my lower back arching off the bed. The jingling of the collar was getting faster, louder as I pulsed my hips in rhythm with my hand.
