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I whimper softly, my eyes half-closed, my fingers moving. My pulse is racing. I’m terrified and aching and so turned on I can barely think.

Then my phone starts ringing.

Unknown number.

I freeze for half a second then hit the red button, there is no way I’m talking to him. He calls again and I decline again.

Unknown number.

If you want to relax, you’ll answer the phone.

I stare at the message, and then he’s calling again, and I stare at the phone for a lot longer than I need to before I answer, pressing the speaker button.

His voice is low, calm, and terrifyingly intimate. It’s slightly distorted, like he’s using something to hide it, but it’s still smooth and warm.

“You’re doing so well, Sadie,” he murmurs. “I can hear how fast you’re breathing. Keep touching that pretty clit for me. Just like that.”

Why does his voice sound so sexy? I wonder if it’s just as sexy without the distress of it.

I bite my lip hard, a helpless sound escaping anyway, as I circle my clit. “How… how can you see me?”

“I always can,” he says softly, almost tenderly. “You look so beautiful right now. Flushed and needy. Slide a finger inside, baby. Deep. Tell me how it feels.”

I obey before I can stop myself, gasping at the sensation. “It feels… full. Warm. I shouldn’t be doing this…”

“You should,” he cuts in gently, his voice like velvet. “You need this. You’ve been so tense all day. I hate how hard you push yourself. Let me take care of you. Add another finger. Slow strokes. Imagine it’s me opening you up.”

My hips roll into my hand. I’m panting now, shame and arousal burning through me in equal measure. Part of me is horrified. The bigger part is melting under his calm, possessive tone.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, low and rough. “You’re getting so close. I can hear it in every little sound you make. Come for me, Sadie. Let me hear how pretty you sound when you fall apart for me.”

The orgasm crashes over me hard. I moan into the phone, my thighs shaking, and my back arching off the bed as pleasure rips through every exhausted muscle. He stays on the line the whole time, breathing steadily, listening to every gasp and whimper like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever heard.

When I finally start to come down, boneless and trembling, his voice returns, soft and soothing.

“There she is. My beautiful girl. I bet you taste good Sadie, taste yourself for me.”

My face burns with fresh embarrassment, but the command sends another pulse of heat through me. I slowly pull my fingers from my shorts, glistening, and bring them to my lips. I lick them tentatively, then deeper, tasting myself while he listens. A low, approving hum vibrates through the phone.

“Mmm. Just like I imagined. Sweet. Perfect.”

I whimper softly around my fingers, completely undone.

“Now sleep, you’ve earned it. I’ll stay right here watching over you. The violets will be waiting when you wake up.”

He ends the call, and I’m still on a high from what’s just happened, but God, did I need an orgasm right now. My body feels relaxed now.

I lie there staring at the ceiling, my phone still clutched in my hand, my heart pounding and my body is humming with aftershocks. I should feel violated. Disgusted. Terrified.

Instead, I feel seen. Wanted. Protected in the most twisted, intoxicating way possible.

I pull the covers up to my chin, the faint scent of violets drifting in from the kitchen and let sleep drag me under faster than it has in weeks.

Twelve

Miles

The line goes dead, and I place my phone face down on the desk and lean back in my chair. I watch her slowly falling asleep, she looks so beautiful, and so peaceful.