Getting to my feet, I flipped my hair over my shoulder, power and desire thrumming through my veins as I turned my back to the mirror, holding my phone over my shoulder to get a good shot of the thong tucked neatly into my cheeks; making my butt look like the perfect heart.
I sent it.
The next two minutes had my heart hammering against my chest and my pussy growing wetter. Was he staring at the photo? Was he busy with something else and didn’t really care all that much? That last thought made my midsection cramp. The second I recognised that feeling as doubt, I mentally slapped myself. I wasn’t doing this for him. I was doing it for myself. He wasn’t the one who held the power here.
I sat cross-legged on the bed, giving myself a pep talk, when my phone started ringing in my hand.
His face filled the screen and something uncomfortable twisted in my chest.
I pressed the red button again.
George: Rosie, please, answer.
The pleading in those three words rang through and guilt niggled its way into my stomach. When his face popped up on the screen for the fourth time, I took a deep breath and accepted.
A chair squeaking was the first sound I heard before his low breathing echoed down the line.
‘You answered.’ The thick note of arousal in his voice nearly made me moan out loud.
‘Eventually,’ I said.
This was a bad idea. Areallybad idea. I should have bit the bullet and taken out my trusty vibrator and watched porn. Anything but this.
Seconds away from laughing and saying,just kidding,I shifted uncomfortably on the bed when his voice rumbled down the line.
‘Are you wet, Rosie?’ What in the holy hell happened to his voice? It dipped so low it was barely more than a growl. The George that held the door open for me and brought me food at work faded into the background. ‘Is your pussy wet and desperate for some relief, sweetheart?’
My eyelids fluttered shut as I stifled a whimper. ‘Yes,’ I breathed.
‘And you called me?’ The hint of surprise cut through his lust.
‘Don’t overthink it,’ I practically begged. This was sex. No need to make it into something it wasn’t. A little voice in the back of my head cackled pityingly at that declaration.
A sharp exhale burst from his mouth. For one heart-stopping moment, I thought he was going to end it. End this call and the back and forth we had going on. The lines between helping a friend, and helping me win this bet were getting blurry. Right now, I had no desire for him to straighten them out. I wanted him to dive into this fantasy with me, forgetting why it couldn’t work.
‘Fuck, do you know what you do to me, Rosie?’ An agonised sound echoed down the line. I leaned back on the bed, my head against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling, feeling every part of my body ache.
‘Don’t call me that.’ I hadn’t expected those words to come out, but the moment they did and George went silent,my eyes pinched shut. Hearing him say my name, the name countless people had used and called me in bed, felt wrong. George already had a name for me, and every time that word fell from his lips, it chipped away at a wall I’d carefully erected.
One word, and I started to crumble.
‘Sweetheart,’ he said in a long drawn out tone. ‘You like when I call you that?’
I nodded. That’s how fucked up my head was at the minute. George apparently knew the answer from the brief grunt of pleasure he elicited.
‘Where are you right now?’ he asked.
‘In bed,’ I replied, my voice breathy and wanton.
‘Are you touching that pussy?’
My entire lower half clenched at hearing him say that word. ‘No.’
‘Put the phone on speaker.’
My brows drew together. ‘Why?’
‘Sweetheart.’ His tone turned sharp. ‘Put the phone on speaker.’
