Page 53 of 13 Rules For Fantastic Phone Sex

He laughs out loud. Like an actual guffaw. “You’re a ruthless manipulatrix, wrapping me around your finger, wheedling everything and anything you want out of me, and I sit here and smile while you have your way. Me and probably every other man you talk to.” He sounds oddly pleased about it.

“I resemble that remark, but maybe I’m feeling sweet today. I can use my powers for good, not evil.”

“I doubt it. Feisty, horny, controlling, demanding, challenging, funny, sure. Sweet, not so much. I know you too well now—I also know you’re wound up today. Like I said, feisty.”

He’s not wrong. I’ve been planning ways to tie him in knots all day long.

“Since you can’t take care of business,” I say, using my sexiest phone harlot voice to encourage him to do what I want, “you could tell me secrets instead.”

“What do you want to know? Something in particular?” he asks.

“Yes,” I purr. “I want to know my ringtone.”

“No, thanks for playing,” he grumbles. “And moving on.”

“You’re the no-fun man, Henry Martha Stewart Sterling. Have I mentioned how much I want another one of your, ahem, demonstrations sitting in my chair?”

Henry groans like he’s in the ER with something broken. “Kait, dammit, now I’m fully hard. Distracted driving is bad.”

My smile grows at his casual use of a dirty word. We’re an uber-secret club where I get authentic Henry. He can pretend to be whoever he wants to be with the rest of the world, but I get the version that speaks his mind and asks for what he needs.

“You know I’m an open book,” he says, his blinker clicking in the background. “Ask me anything you want.”

“Okay, since you won’t tell me the first one, what is your second middle name?”

“You’re obsessed.” He laughs, and I can’t help but smile. I’m really not. I could probably google or look for his bar registration and find out his initials at the minimum, but that wouldn’t be any fun.

“It gives me great pleasure to deprive you since you always get exactly what you want from me. Please understand I won’t be telling you my middle names at any point in the foreseeable future.”

“Famous last words, Henry.” Now it’s game on. “I’m going to edge you until you beg to tell me, then once you do, I’ll edge you for hours. Days.”

“Oh, really?” he asks. “Is that a threat or a promise, sweet Kait?”

“Fine. Fine,” I say, bratty, even though I’m secretly thrilled he keeps holding the line. “Moving on. I want you to tell me what you’ve been holding out on me. I know there’s something that gets you hot and bothered. You’ve resisted my efforts to figure out what it is. I want to know your secret kink, then I want to use it to tease you, edge you, hold you at your limit, and then maybe let you come after tormenting you for a good long while.” At least I’m honest.

“I’m a pretty simple guy, Kait,” he says, and I have to give him credit for sounding completely forthright, but I don’t believe him. Gut instinct. “I don’t have any secret fetishes or anything like that.”

“Think harder, because everyone has a thing. It’s okay to say you don’t want to talk about it or that you need to think about it, but we’re in the cone of candor.”

“I’ll think about it. Nothing springs to mind. I mean, obviously, there are things I prefer, but nothing that rises to the level of a true fetish or anything. If I come up with a thing, do I get to hear your thing?”

“I don’t have a thing,” I reply, too fast. “No secrets here.”

“Kait.” And with that single word, he manages to say that he knows I’m lying and caution me about it.

“Sorry, cone of candor,” I backpedal. “Quid pro quo and all that.”

“Are you using legalese on me?” he asks. “That’s kinda hot.”

“Don’t get too excited about it,” I reply. “I learned it from Silence of the Lambs.”

“That movie is older than you are. I think. I mean, I obviously wouldn’t know for sure since someone won’t tell me how old they are.”

“It’s older than you too, Henry, but you know the reference,” I say, ignoring his low-key complaint. “My dad is addicted to movies. We never had money for cable, but if you could get it from the library, we watched it. If you could buy it at a garage sale for a dollar on VHS, I’ve seen it. Stop changing the subject.”

“Fine,” he says. “You were saying?”

“Of all the things we’ve talked about, sexual things, what got your attention the most?” This conversation is both something I’m feeling incredibly curious about and guaranteed to keep him hard while he drives home.