Page 69 of Late Nights & Love Lines
“If it eases your mind to call me daddy that’s fine by me, and I’d listen to this recording over and over again, Peach. Imagine how fucking sexy that would be.”
My body goes up in freaking flames, and my fingers tap an uneven rhythm at the top of my mound.
“That’s not…can I help you with something?” I ask, attempting to keep this professional, which is already idiotic considering what we did last night.
“Your hand would feel a hell of a lot better than mine. Your mouth might ruin me.”
My hand moves on its own and circles my clit. I can’t contain the gasp that escapes on contact.
“Fuck, sweetheart. Are you touching yourself?”
“Hotline,” I say in a near sob.
I attack my clit the same way he did last night. I had no idea I wanted it so hard, so rough, so…everything. How the hell did he read my body better than I have in a matter of minutes when I’ve been with it for over thirty years? It seems completely unfair, if you ask me.
“I can still taste you on my lips.” He growls. His words are choppy, and relief makes my shoulders sag into the mattress. I’m not the only one losing their mind here.
“Seb.” Apparently, I’m now reduced to one-syllable words.
“Do you wish it were my tongue on you right now? Do you want it to be my hands that make you come undone?”
The sounds of him jacking off spur me on, and before I can process what I’m doing, the world around me flashes white and my mind falls silent. I vaguely hear his muffled curses. Even after I remove my hand, everything is so oversensitive that the thin material of my dress is threatening to make me come again.
“Shit.” Sebastian’s words are loud, and then he chuckles. That’s when I hear it. The knocking.
“Daddy. Your door’s locked. Let me in. I’m hungry.”
“Oh my God,” I gasp.
“Sweetheart.” There’s rustling in the background, and I picture him jumping around his room so he can open his door. “I really fucking love your job.”
“No,” I shout. “We cannot do that again.”
“Oh, Peach. We can, and we will. Today and tomorrow, remember?”
“I remember but…no, that’s not right. Tomorrow is today. Now you only have today.”
He laughs, and then I hear Kade squealing with carefree happiness. He must have opened his door. “No, sweetheart. You promised me today and tomorrow, that’s what I’ll have. Your todays and your tomorrows. Take a shower and come down for breakfast.”
He hangs up. Sebastian Walker hung up on me. And I think he tricked me into giving him all my days.
Mortification.
Idiocy.
Embarrassment.
Orgasms.
What? No. Focus on being mortified, Rowan Melody Ellis. That way when you enter that kitchen, every blissfully sinful thing you’ve done in the last twelve hours won’t be reflected on your face.
Gah. Why am I so bad at giving myself pep talks?
“Are you going to stand there and hover all day, or are you going to join us?” Seb’s teasing voice filters down the hall.
How the heck did he know I’m standing out here? I’m plastered to the wall and haven’t made a sound.
Little feet thwap against the hardwood, and Kade slides to a stop in front of me with a toothy grin. “Row-Row. Seren just went to sing her songs. You missed her,” he squeals with arms held high. Everything this kid does is done with the careless energy of a circus clown, and the overwhelming compassion he inherited from his father.
