Ana:Tell me you’re not bailing. Xmas cocktails @ Clementine’s. Mariah is already playing!
Another message buzzes in my hand when I don’t reply.
Ana:Francesca.Don’t make me come over there and personally shove a candy cane up your ass.
I snort into my mug, lips twitching despite myself. Ana’s been trying to drag me into the festive spirit since Halloween. She means well, but the idea of forcing myself into a crowded bar tonight, wading through tinsel and tequila shots while pretending to be merry?
Hard pass.
Me:Appreciate the enthusiasm. Declining the rectal peppermint. Rain check?
Ana:You arethe worst.
Ana:But also my favorite.
Ana:I’ll bring you leftover curly fries and a cookie the size of your face.
Me:You know my love language.
I toss the phone gently onto the couch, the grin fading as I lean my head against the cold glass. Outside, the snow’s still falling. Inside, it’s quiet. Except for the voice still echoing in my head.
Spread those legs for me, Red.
Fuck yourself exactly how I tell you.
My thighs squeeze together involuntarily, and I close my eyes on an exhale.
I don’t even know his name.
But god, I think I want to.
Chapter two
Mason
The voice message ends, and I don’t even try to stop the grin that stretches across my face.
“Mmm… hope you dream about me, Fireboy. Or better yet, wake up hard thinking about this voice.”
My phone rests on my chest, the screen still glowing in the pre-dawn dark. The bedsheets are twisted around my waist, one hand thrown behind my head, the other palming my morning wood. I haven’t even made it to the shower yet, and I’m already losing the battle.
Red always messages me late, right before she crashes. After midnight, usually. Sometimes she’s flirty, sometimes she’s downright filthy. Every time I’m hard without fail.
I told myself I wouldn’t save her voice notes—that I’d just listen once and let them disappear. But I’ve got five of them saved in a hidden folder on my phone, like some fucking teenager with a crush.
I replay her new message again, just because I can. Just because her voice, soft and sultry and wicked as hell, does something to me that no one else has in a long time.
Not since—
I exhale hard and rub a hand down my face. I’m not going there. It’s too early, and I’ve got a double shift ahead. One of the guys is off sick, and Beck’s already warned me he’ll be grumpier than usual.
Still, I don’t move right away. Just lie there, letting her voice echo in my chest a second longer while I remember last night. That soft littlepleasewhen she begged me to let her come.
Breathless. Frantic. RedRiot.
That’s all I got. A voice and a username. The first time I saw that handle in the app, I was locked in. I’ve got a thing for redheads, always have. It’s a weakness, and once I’d assumed the ‘red’ in RedRiot stood forredhead, I never stood a chance. I asked her once, early on. She got all coy and said maybe she was, maybe she wasn’t. Good enough for me.
So I picture her that way. Red hair fisted in my hand, lips parted, her body twitching under my tongue. All flushed cheeks and fire, mouthing off until she can’t anymore.
