Page 18 of Caught A Vibe

I mean, I would still have ended up here for the shows tomorrow, but I could’ve ended things better between us. He had come by the booth, Nic said. What would have happened today if I’d been there instead of in the security line? Regardless, I can’t let him linger in uncertainty. That would be cruel. I don’t mind being mean when it is deserved, but cruelty is never appropriate. “I’m in New York.”

It’s his turn to go silent on the line. I feel his sigh as if we are in the same room, chest to chest again. After a long pause, he finds his voice. A true reporter, he leads with an open question. “How did you end up there?”

I recap the rest of my day, adding, “I have to be up to go live on a national morning show in a little over five hours. Thanks to your friend Anonymous I’ve gotten more exposure than I dreamed was possible. The article is amazing. I’m sorry I yelled at you.” I curl the pillow under my head and wish it was his chest.

“If I’d known it would take you away from me, I wouldn’t have sent it to so many colleagues,” he grumbles. I hear a door slam and rustling on the other line.

“If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting here wishing I could kiss you again.” I do wish I could see him again. I wouldn’t normally share that information with a person I’ve just met. I shouldn’t be giving him this ammunition. But the truth slips out.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

He lets out a huff, and I imagine him collapsing in the club chair in his hotel room at the end of an exhausting day on the conference floor. It’s far too tempting a mental image, and I push it away with blunt words. I need to get myself back under control. I don’t have the energy to wrangle chaotic emotions tonight. “As a rule, I don’t pine for people who walk out on me.”

“You’re pining?” I can practically hear the smirk through the phone.

“That’s the part you heard?” I shoot back.

“Last night was…” He pauses to search for words.

“Regrettable? A hit-and-run? A mistake?” I roll to my side, hugging the pillow to my chest as if it will ease the growing panic over my uncharacteristic behavior. So he wrote the article. So what? He still snuck out on me.

“What? Were we in the same bed? No! I was debating between amazing and unforgettable. Was it that bad?” His voice drops, crestfallen, and I feel a small, petty pleasure.

“What was I supposed to think when I woke up this morning alone?”

“You looked exhausted, and I had deadlines breathing down my neck. I couldn’t wake you, or I’d never have left. I figured I’d go write and then see you down on the floor. Maybe convince you to have dinner with me. I never thought you’d leave.”

Ooooh, you’re good. The warmth of his response rolls through me, making it harder to shut the door between us.

Do I really need it shut? Maybe this one time I can make an exception and leave it open a crack. There’s something about Dash Hall that’s gotten under my skin. “Next time, wake me up. I can be quick,” I say.

“So you’re open to a next time?” he asks. The hopeful lilt in his voice makes me grin.

“Next time we’re in the same place, we’ll see.”

“It’s a date. Where do you live?”

“Los Angeles,” I reply. How have we not talked about this yet? Oh, right. We skipped over the small-talk portion of the mating ritual yesterday.

“Damn it.”

I do not like the sound of that. “You?”

“San Francisco,” he groans.

“Same time zone at least.” I try not to let the disappointment into my voice. I’ve already given him too much.

“Yeah.” He sounds just as fake positive as I do. It strokes my wounded ego.

A yawn catches me off guard and I glance at the clock. “Right now it’s tomorrow on the East Coast, and I’ve got to get up in a few hours to get ready, so I’m going to sleep. Give Anonymous a kiss for me?”

“I’ll give him more than that… Sleep tight, angel.”

The endearment throws me as I hang up. He’s calling me angel and making future plans. My one-night stand is expanding rapidly, and on top of all the other complications of the day, my brain refuses to make it make sense. I lie back on the bed and contemplate my options. I can lie here and ruminate until I exhaust myself with anxiety, or I can bliss out my brain and body, burning off the questions, and get to sleep sooner. The tension our flirting aroused isn’t going to go away on its own. His voice alone invoked all of the good memories from last night in a rush of heat. And I do need to sleep…

I get back out of bed and rummage through my bag until I find my personal MiO and lube. Closing my eyes, my imagination rebuilds the night before in my mind. I always visualize when I touch myself. Dash added plenty of content to my spank bank, and now that I’m not pissed at him anymore, I have no qualms about using our night together to turn the MiO into more than a silicone-covered machine.

The memory of Dash’s tongue getting me wet is enough to do the same for me now. I warm the toy in my hands as I apply my favorite lube and get comfortable. I tease it into place, remembering his determination to please me. I close my eyes and let it work me inside and out. In my mind’s eye, it’s Dash’s cock stretching me, teasing my G-spot, and his tongue on my clit instead of the machine I made. The most intense orgasm I’ve achieved with MiO to date shatters me, and I fall asleep with my toy in my bed and Dash in my head.

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