“Oh.” She went quiet for a moment. “I wish you were here to watch me now.”
Then I heard it. The soft buzz of a vibrator.
Heat shot straight through me. “Hannah, are you—”
She giggled. “What are you wearing?” Then she giggled again and repeated it in this terrible, breathy phone-sex-operator voice: “What are you weeeearing?”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“No. But things fall apart when I try to do the right thing, so why not do what I want?” The playfulness dropped from her voice, replaced by something rawer. “Connor?”
My hands shook as I loosened my tie, toeing off my shoes. “My suit. Just came from work.”
“Captain Three-Piece.” She laughed, breathless. “The same one from the engagement party? When I went down on you?”
The image flashed behind my eyes—her on her knees, her perfect lips stretched around my cock.
The buzz got louder. I heard her gasp, and something about that sound—breathless and needy—made me unzip my trousers and let them drop on my way to the bedroom.
I wrapped my hand around my cock, stroking slowly. “Are you in bed?”
“Mm-hmm. Your bed.” She took a shaky breath. “The sheets don’t smell like you anymore. I’ve been here too long. It’s my bed now, not yours.”
That shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. Like she’d already moved on, already made my space hers in my absence.
“I’m so wet,” she whispered. “I’ve thought about this so many times since then. You watching me like you wanted to devour me.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, stroking faster. “I wanted to taste you.”
“Next time.” Another gasp. “Next time you can—oh fuck, Connor… I wish it was your hand. Or your mouth. Or—” She moaned, and the sound went straight to my cock. “Would you have fucked me? If I’d asked?”
“Yes.”
“Even though it’s a bad idea?”
“Especiallybecause it’s a bad idea.” I tightened my grip, stroking harder.
“I’m gonna, oh shit, I’m—”
She cried out, and I came with her, biting back a groan as I spilled over my hand. My whole body went taut, then loose.
For a moment there was just breathing on both ends. Heavy. Ragged.
Then I heard her sigh—that long, boneless sound of endorphins flooding her system. The buzz clicked off.
A soft moan, almost like she was settling into sleep. Then a snore.
“Hannah?”
Another snore, gentle and steady.
I almost stayed on the line just to listen to her breathe, but that felt too much like something a stalker would do.
Or a boyfriend.
“Happy birthday, Hannah,” I whispered. “Drink some water.”
I hung up and stared at my phone, my heart still racing, my hand still sticky with come, completely and utterly alone in this bland corporate apartment that would never smell like her.
