Just what I fucking need.
I try Bea’s number. It doesn’t even go to her message bank, just rings out. I suppose she’ll be having too much fun with her friends, maybe hanging out with a couple of Dylan’s movie star mates. I’m not the kind of man to begrudge anyone a good night, though I try not to feel so flat about not hearing her voice.
Yeah, her voice. How pathetic is that?
I give it half an hour and call again; only this time there isn’t even a tone.
Something else I’d forgotten; how crap the cell coverage is up here.
I’m not feeling up to having company or the hovering of well-meaning staff, so I order a rare steak and a pint to be brought to my room and do something I’ve never done; go to sleep with my phone in my hand.
It must be the reason I dream—dream of Bea calling. Of us having phone sex.
‘So you’re not going to make it for dinner?Her voice purrs down the line, increasing my longing tenfold.‘And I can’t come to you there?’
‘I wished you could, darlin’, but I don’t see how, beyond getting one of the old fishermen to bring you. But it’s too dark and too cold and dangerous.’In my dream, I sigh like I mean it.Because I fucking do. ‘I’m sorry, honey bee. I had such plans for tonight.’
‘Maybe you could tell me about them? That might be a nice second best.’
‘Phone sex?’My dream dick twitches, my dark mood lifting just a touch. ‘Well, I’ve been booked into the master suite. I was planning on living up to the name.’
‘Oh, that sounds special... ’
‘There’s a freestanding bathtub in front of a bay window.’ A copper tub that I glance at as I speak.
‘Uh-huh,’ she purrs, increasing my need exponentially.
‘And this fantastic chair that looks more like a throne,’ I say, rubbing the arms.In my dream, I feel the soft fabric under my fingers, imagining what she would feel.
‘That’s so hot. Whisper more decoration terms to me, baby.’ Bea laughs a little hiccupping giggle, making dream me realise one thing.
‘You’ve been drinking.’ I prop my elbow on the chair’s arm and my chin in my hand. It sounds like I’m missing out on all the fun.
‘Why yes, can you tell?’
‘Drinking without me makes you a bad girl.’
‘Tell me more about that chair,’ she says with a cute snort.Ah, man. Is it normal to dream while physically feeling the effects of your hard-on?
‘It’s velvet. Cushioned arms, the sort that would be kind to your legs.’
‘They’re called armchairs, Kit. Not leg chairs.’
‘I’ll strip you,’ I continue, not rising to her bait. ‘Set your lovely arse down on the soft velvet. Lay your knees over the arms and spread you so wide you’re displaying everything. Then I’d get down on my knees, kiss your thighs, and slide my tongue through that lush ribbon of pink flesh. I’d lick you so hard. Worship your cunt.’ I hear her swallow thickly as a small sigh escapes her throat.I palm my dick through my pants. It’s throbbing so hard, it hurts.
‘Then I’d carry you over to the bed and lay you down. I’d fuck you so hard you’d lose control of your legs.’
‘The things you say, Kit Tremaine.’ She sighs as though I’ve just slipped between her legs. ‘I have no words.’
‘Just let it happen, honey bee. Some things can’t be fought.’
When I wake, the curtains are open, and the night still pitch black. I stretch along the mattress, my eyes flicking to the chair as I try to hold the dream for just a few moments more.
She’ll be here tonight, I tell myself, palming my hard-on through my clothes.Good job I own the hotel because I’m breaking her tonight, right there on that chair.
