Call On Me. Roni Loren

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Call On Me - Roni  Loren

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last, mama, but I’m always prepared to get off.” Mattress springs creaked as he got settled again. “Ah, fuck, yes. That’s better.”

      “Tell me what you’re doing,” she said, reaching down to slide her panties off and to turn off the bedside lamp. Darkness enveloped her, keeping her safe, secret. This wasn’t really happening if it was in the dark.

      “I’m on top of my sheets and have my hand tight around my cock, rubbing slow and teasing myself, losing myself in your voice and imagining what you’re doing right now. Help me fill in the picture.”

      “I’m in the dark and have a headset on so my hands are free. I’ve taken my panties off and am touching myself.”

      “No,” he said, gravel in his voice. “Use the words for me. I know you’re not that polite on your calls. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

      She inhaled a long breath, trying to find the courage. She said filthy things to men every night, but they were just words to strangers she’d never have to face. That was Sasha. She’d never gone there as Oakley. This felt altogether different—vulnerable. She’d have to see this man again, have to own this part of herself in front of him. She released the breath. Jumped off the cliff. “I’m pushing my fingers inside myself and rubbing my clit. Everything feels tight and achy, like I could come at any second. My pussy is clenching around my fingers just from me thinking about what you’d feel like inside of me.”

      “Fuck, yes, baby. You’re perfect. And don’t deny yourself. Get a toy and give yourself more than your fingers.”

      Her back arched, the pleasure building fast. It’d been so long since she’d done anything but snag a cursory orgasm in the shower. “I don’t have any toys.”

      “What? I thought all women had a stash.”

      “Not numb ones.”

      “You’re not numb, baby.” She could hear his slick hand moving steadily on his end of the line. It was a familiar noise, but it’d never sounded so damn lewd and sexy. “Feel how hot and slippery you are against your hand. Feel it all. How awake and alive you are. How much you want this.”

      She moaned, unable to stop the sounds now.

      “If I were there, I’d fill you up. Give you more.”

      Her fingers were pumping, pumping, pumping now but instead of the empty darkness of her bedroom, she saw Pike looming above her, his cock pumping into her, those inked arms sweating and flexing as he drove her into the bed.

      “Oh, God.” Choppy, choked sounds spilled out of her—so different from the practiced, porny noises she made for calls. Raw. Real. She’d forgotten what that sounded like.

      “Yes,” Pike said, his voice broken with sharp breaths. “Take it. Feel me there with you. Come for me, mama.”

      The command was unnecessary because she was already tipping over, her hips lifting off the bed and her free hand grabbing her breast with a too-rough touch. She cried out, turning into her pillow to muffle the sound. Light exploding in the darkness.

      Grinding, erotic noises filtered through the phone—unh, unh, unh—as Pike fucked his fist. Oakley only sailed higher. And when Pike cried out, she saw it all in her mind. His head tipped back in ecstasy, his cock pulsing in his hand, fluid painting streaks across his chest. She’d never wanted to transport herself somewhere else so desperately.

      But, of course, she wasn’t there. And he wasn’t here. When they both panted their way down from their orgasms, chilly reality settled in around her like a wet blanket.

      She was alone. And she’d just exposed more than one secret to a man she’d promised to keep at arm’s length.

      Pike let out a long breath on his end. “Wow, that was …”

      “Something we can’t do again.”

      “What?”

      She closed her eyes, tried to slow her heartbeat. “I expect you to honor your promise and not bring this or my night job up ever. When I see you again, we won’t talk about this.”

      “I’ll keep my promise, but Oak—”

      “Good night, Pike.”

      She yanked off her headset, her blood still rushing through her ears and her body having aftershocks, and threw the damn thing against the wall.

      Stupid, stupid Oakley.

       NINE

      Oakley stared at the collection of personal massagers in the Wicked boutique, already overwhelmed by all the choices and the prices. How could they possibly be this expensive? She’d had a makeshift vibrator once before, but it’d been a simple massage thing she’d bought at the drugstore. One that she could pass off as a non-sexual device. Back then, she’d been young and convinced everyone was staring at her while she made the purchase. Now she honestly didn’t care. But how the hell was she supposed to know which one to pick? It’s not like she could return it after trying it out if it was no good. And after the other night with Pike, she definitely needed one. Pent-up lust made her do idiotic things. She wouldn’t allow herself to be that desperate again.

      “Need some help?”

      She glanced toward the end of the aisle to find an impossibly good-looking golden-haired guy sending her a friendly smile. Jesus, what was it lately with the hot blonds?

      “I, uh …”

      He cocked his thumb. “Or if you’d prefer, I can get my assistant out of the stock room and she could help you. Get a woman’s opinion.”

      “Um, no, that’s fine. I mean, yes, I guess I need help. But no, you don’t need to bother your assistant.” She could handle a ridiculously hot guy talking to her about vibrators. Sure. She was totally cool with this. Not awkward at all. Nope.

      “Great.” He sauntered over and stopped a few inches from her to turn and face the rack she’d been staring at.

      Suddenly, the words clitoral and G-spot and anal seemed to go neon on the packages, screaming at them in the silence. The tips of Oakley’s ears burned. She could talk dirty at night, but put her in the daylight and her conservative upbringing came back to haunt her.

      “So have you narrowed it down any yet? Any features you’re really after?” he asked, relaxed as you please. Like they were discussing which coffeemaker to purchase.

      She cleared her throat and peeked his way. His name tag said Jace Austin, Owner. Okay, well if he owned the place, this probably was about as interesting as picking out a coffeemaker. “Nothing too fancy, I guess. I just—there are a lot of choices.”

      He pulled one from the display. “This is your most basic bullet vibrator. It can be inserted, but generally, it’s used for external stimulation. This brand has a few different speeds and the most intensity. It’s one of our bestsellers. And I think if this manufacturer stopped making it, my wife would picket the factory.”

      Oakley

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