Page 34 of 13 Rules For Fantastic Phone Sex

“Do not slow down, Henry.” It’s another command. “Faster, Henry. Harder. Give me what I want. My name on your lips when you come.” Her direct order is too much. My skin is too tight, and the traitorous buzz in my lower spine screams that I’m reaching the point of no return.

Her tone softens. “Come for me, Henry? I’ve got you, babe.” She’s not just saying it⁠—

“Now, Henry.” Commanding me to come… works.

The frisson of heat in my low back grows until it flashes. I fling off the covers, welcoming the cold of the room against my damp, overheated skin, but I still ignite. I stroke once, twice, then a third time, and I fragment as she peers into my soul, listening as I come.

“Kait, oh, fuck, fuck, Kait, I’m—” Her name tumbles out of me, again and again, as I empty hot in my hand. Wave after wave crashes, euphoria pounding through my body.

“Exactly what I wanted,” she whispers. “So much better than I imagined.” One last tiny spurt slips out, knowing she was thinking about this too. “That’s it, sweetheart. Give me every drop. I’ve wanted that for so long.” It’s phone sex talk, but her words will fuel my fantasies forever.

“Kait.” Her name is a sigh as I slowly, so slowly, come back to earth.

I clean up with my T-shirt, toss it on the floor, cover back up in layers of soft blankets, and close my eyes. She watches me, holds me, presses her body into me with a sexy sort of half smile, and kisses me while I am racked with the aftershocks of pleasure. I’m drained. My arms and legs and eyelids are heavy, and I’m like a leaden, liquid version of myself.

Real Kait makes a sound of deep-seated pleasure. “Henry, you do something to me. I don’t understand it. It scares me sometimes, but I love it.”

Me too. I’m not sure if I say it or think it. Think, I hope.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart. You’re going to sleep like a baby tonight.”

“Is tú mo stóirín. Oiche mhaith.” My exhausted body and foggy thoughts slide closer to oblivion.

Her voice is the last thing—the only thing—I know. I drift toward her, filled with wispy thoughts of gratitude, but when I try to speak the words, her soft shhhhhh hushes me as lavender, soft sheets, and cool night air twist into a dream as I slip into welcome sleep.

CHAPTER TEN

KAITLIN

RULE #6: THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS BRAIN BLEACH. NEVER, EVER LOOK CALLERS UP ON SOCIAL MEDIA.

My spinning thoughts keep whirling around Henry. He hasn’t called since we had phone sex, and my texts are unread.

I didn’t violate my no-touching-juicy-bits rule because there isn’t one. We never get off with a caller. It’s not one of the 13 Rules of Fantastic Phone Sex because that implies it needs to be stated. It does not. Phone sex is fake. There, I said it, and I’m not taking it back. It’s an acting job for women with a naughty streak and a high tolerance for the unusual.

I’m going to have to make it a rule.

I’ve never wanted anything the way I wanted to hear Henry saying my name while coming. Shit. That’s a bold-faced lie too. I’m the High Priestess of the Lying Liars of Lies because I wanted to get there with him more than anything in the history of ever. Emotions about phone sex have never been a thing for me, yet here I am, angsting.

One day, I found myself asking, “What do you smell like, my love?” except “my love” was silent. The answer? L’Occitane Verbena. And now I’m officially shameless, spending money on bath products that aren’t from the lowest, cheapest shelf at the grocery store.

How far I’ve fallen. Swept away. When it comes to Henry Sterling, I’ve been swimming against his tide, but he’s overcoming me. I fight his current and lose, but he doesn’t even know I’m swimming.

“Jess, I need your advice,” I say, emptying my shopping bag on the kitchen table. We’re both home and awake, so I embrace the opportunity to talk despite dreading the conversation.

She stops, fixing me with a perplexed look. Fair. I’m more the giving-unsolicited-advice type. “What’s up?”

I hold up my fancy French bath products. “Sniff this verbena one and sniff that almond oil one and tell me which is better?”

She sniffs. “Trick question—they’re both fabulous. That was easier than expected.”

“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “That wasn’t the advice question.”

“What’s up?” she says, looking me over.

“Never mind,” I say and start to walk to my room. “And, uh, thanks.” Conversation over, I wander toward my room.

“Oh, Kaitlin, my dearest, oldest, best, and cheapest friend?” She squints at me. “You’ve been acting weird the last few days.” I nod. It’s obnoxious but true. “Spill. You know you can’t keep a secret from me.”