She unsnapped the clutch and gasped when she read the word “Restricted.” Quickly accepting the call, she brought the phone to her ear, hoping this wasn’t a courtesy goodbye. “Hello.”
“Good evening, Ms. Farrow.”
Her voice shook with trepidation. “Good evening, Mr. Stone.”
She silenced the compulsion to apologize for all of her awkwardness. It seemed the aftermath of her exposure was a lot more difficult to cope with than the actual moment she was exposed. Vulnerability and inadequacy were living-breathing things inside of her, strong enough to destroy everything.
“Why do you sound upset?” The sharp tone of his voice caused her to wince.
Because I’m overanalyzing the crap out of everything like I always do until I squander any hope or confidence I have left. “I’m…I’m not upset.”
“Lies, Ms. Farrow. I assumed we were past that.”
She swallowed. Earlier she’d decided to bare all. It was time to practice that concept—as difficult as that was for her. His clipped tone didn’t make it any easier. “I am upset. But first I have to thank you for everything you did today. It was amazing. No one’s ever treated me to such an experience.”
“The pleasure was mine. Now, tell me why you’re upset.”
Her throat constricted as she confronted her greatest fear. “Is it over?” Tears rushed to her eyes, blurring her view of the pretty suite.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You…you didn’t come to dinner.”
“Who says I wasn’t there?”
Her body drew up tight and she looked around nervously, wishing she were back at the restaurant. In a breathless whisper, she asked, “You were there?”
“You looked exquisite, Scarlet. Emerald suits you well.”
Her insides melted at the compliment followed by the use of her first name. However, par for the course, there came a great sense of grief. He’d been there and she’d missed him. Right before her eyes and she hadn’t known he was there.
Her mind played over every other patron at the restaurant. “Were you alone?”
He chuckled. “Where would the fun be if I answered that?” Still he answered her anyway. “I was sitting with others, Ms. Farrow.”
Her body shivered as chills chased over her arms and legs. “I wish I had known. I was hoping to finally see you.”
“And what if I turned out to be beneath your expectations, Ms. Farrow?”
“Impossible.”
“Interesting. So have we changed our emphasis on physical appearance?”
She lowered herself to the chair and her phone beeped. Crap. Her battery was running low. Discreetly digging in her purse, praying she’d packed her spare charger, she explained, “It doesn’t matter what you look like. I want to meet you.”
“In time, Ms. Farrow. What are you doing? It sounds like you’re rummaging around for something.”
She huffed, not finding the charger. “I’m looking for my charger. My phone’s not going to last long.”
He was silent for a minute. “Do you have a charger with you?”
Dumping the contents of her bag on the bed she flung the items around, not finding it. Voice laced with distress, she said, “No. It’s not here.”
“What kind of phone do you have?”
“What?”
“I’ll have Pennyworth run out and pick you up a charger. What kind of phone, Ms. Farrow?”
She laughed. Why was she surprised? “It’s the new iPhone.”
“Very well. Hold on please.”
She was placed on mute and wondered if he was in the same room as Pennyworth. She considered paying the chauffeur a visit, perhaps running into Mr. Stone.
“My apologies. Your new charger should be there soon.”
“Are you sharing a room with Mr. Pennyworth?” she blurted.
“Full of questions this evening. No, Ms. Farrow. I called him from the landline. Now that we have that straightened out, let’s move on to more important things. Tell me how it felt to eat alone this evening. I trust the fare was to your liking.”
She sighed and eased back on the bed. “Everything was exceptional. I wish you’d have joined me, but I’m beginning to think you like making me wait.”
“Very much so, Ms. Farrow. There’s something quite intoxicating about stimulating such longing that it becomes physically evident. Now, once you realized I wouldn’t be dining with you, what did you feel?”
“Hurt.”
“Why hurt?”
It was difficult to put her emotions into words. “Because I thought you’d be there.”
“I was there.”
Her lips tightened. She didn’t want to think about him being there and her being too blind—might as well have worn the damn blindfold—to see him. “I thought we’d actually have a date.”
“Is that what you’d prefer, a typical date? I assumed the way we were doing things was a touch more interesting.”
He was right, of course. A collective look at her dating history absolutely paled in comparison to her experiences with Mr. Stone. Even without all her senses, he was safe and securely holding the title of best rendezvous partner ever. “No, I like the way you do things. I was just hoping…”
“We have time, Ms. Farrow. Now, after your surprise settled in, what did you feel?”
“Like I was on display.”
“Was that a pleasant feeling or an uncomfortable one?”
“Uncomfortable.”
He chuckled. “So no little exhibitionist hiding inside that body of yours?”
She blushed and then scowled as her phone beeped, informing her she had five percent battery life remaining. “I’m afraid not.”
“Yet, you managed to enjoy the meal anyway.”
“I had to get over it or I wouldn’t have been able to eat at all.”
“It pleases me that you made the best of an unexpected situation. Today you were very exposed. You dealt with your circumstances rather well.”
She smiled at the compliment, but flushed again at the attention to how exposed she’d actually been. “Thank you.”
“I enjoyed touching you this afternoon.”
Her body immediately called to attention, her sex contracting and heart racing. “I enjoyed it too,” she whispered.
“Did the massage arouse you, Ms. Farrow?”
How could it not? “Yes.”
“Are you aroused now?”
“Yes.” She swallowed.
There was a sharp knock at the door and she jolted off the bed.
“That will likely be Pennyworth with your charger. Thank him and tell him goodnight.”
She went to the door and opened it. Pennyworth handed her a package. “There you are, Ms. Farrow.”
“Thank you.”
“Goodnight, ma’am.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Pennyworth.”
She shut the door and placed the latch over the bolt for extra measure. She quickly slipped open the box, grateful Apple didn’t package things in a way that required a chainsaw. Finding a plug at the base of the lamp, she quickly hooked the phone to the outlet.
“Better now?”
“Yes. Thank you so much.”
“You’re quite welcome. I believe we were discussing your arousal.”
The interruption had been a distraction, cooling her body, but the moment Mr. Stone mentioned anything sexual she was right back in a state of excitement. Sucking in a breath she waited to hear what he’d say.
“Are you still aroused, Ms. Farrow?”
“Yes,” she confessed quietly.
“What is it that’s arousing you?”
“You.”
He paused. “How can you tell you’re aroused? Describe it to me.”
“I feel it. My heart’s racing and I’d do anything to have you here.”
“Anything?”
She tried to think of something she wouldn’t do. Nope. She was pretty desperate in that moment. “I’m pretty sure anything.”
“Interesting. Do you masturbate, Ms. Farrow?”
Her eyes closed as humiliation choked her. Creeping carnal delight provoked her answer. “Sometimes. I think everyone does.”
“Does it arouse you to know I’ve masturbated while thinking of you?”
“Oh, God.” She couldn’t recall ever being this turned on. “Yes, very much so.”
“Are you still in the dress, Scarlet?”
Her name. She savored it, but couldn’t help the panic that it hinted to a goodbye. “No. I hung it up because I didn’t want anything to happen to it.”
“Describe what you’re wearing.”
“The hotel robe.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Where are you sitting?”
“On the bed.”
“Good. I want you to follow my directions. Are you ready?”
Her sex pulsed with need. She was beyond ready. “Yes.”
“Lie back and extend your legs. Keep your knees together.”
She scooted onto the pillows and slowly moved her ankles down the mattress. “Okay.”
“Don’t let go of the phone. Use your free hand to untie the robe and then carefully spread the lapels wide, exposing your body.”
Her fingers trembled as she fussed with the knot of the tie. Her own breath ricocheted through the receiver and she winced. Once she had the knot undone, she separated the lapels. “Okay.”
“Is the room cold? Did exposing yourself make your nipples hard, Ms. Farrow?”
Biting her lip she clenched her thighs tight, needing the pressure. “They were already hard, Mr. Stone.” She smirked when she sensed she’d discomfited him. Maybe she could be sexy after all.
His voice turned gravely. “Touch your breasts, but you are not to touch your nipples. Move your hand slowly. Take your time and feel every caress. I want you to shut your eyes.”
Her lashes lowered and she arched as her fingertips slowly traveled between her breasts, over the slope of chilled flesh, circling close to the areola, but not touching.
“Whose touch are you imagining, Ms. Farrow?”
“Yours. Mr. Stone.” His name came out as a second thought, as if he were a lover holding her and she were pleading his name.
“Good Girl. Now drag your hand lower. You are not to touch your sex, but tease the skin closest to your clitoris with your fingers.”
Her belly filled with liquid heat as she trailed her fingers lower. Her knees remained closed, but her bottom lifted off the bed.
“Describe what you feel.”
“Soft hair.”
“Red,” he breathed the word, giving away a bit of the effect the conversation was having on him.
“Mmm, yes, red.”
“I bet you’re very pink there, Ms. Farrow.”
She moaned. “I wish you were here.”
“What would you want if I were there?”
“Your hands on me, your mouth, everything.”
There was a slight rustling over the line and she wondered if he was touching himself as well.
“Part your thighs for me, Ms. Farrow. Show me all those glistening pink folds.”
“Oh, God.” Her knees slowly parted and cream trickled from her sex.
“Take your finger and circle your opening. Do not penetrate yourself, just tease your outer layers and do not lay a finger on that clit.”
Her digit circled her sex and she moaned.
“Are you wet?”
“So wet. I’ve never been this wet.”
He groaned with appreciation. “Now sink your longest finger into that wet pussy and keep it there until I tell you to remove it.”
Her finger plunged deep and she arched, her shoulders digging into the bed as she let out a guttural moan. “Mr. Stone…”
“Is it hot?”
“Burning.”
“And wet. Swirl your finger around without withdrawing it.”
She did as he directed. Her body was so stimulated every slight motion caused her to twitch and moan.
“How close are you to climaxing, Ms. Farrow?”
“So close.”
“Remove your finger.”
She whimpered, but did as he instructed, immediately missing the presence of her little digit.
“Tell me what your fingers look like.”
“They’re wet and coated with my arousal.”
“I want you to take a picture of your hand with your phone. Later, when you look at it you’ll remember what I do to you. Do that now.”
Lifting her phone from her cheek, she trembled as she keyed in the command for her camera. She focused the lens and stilled. This was the raunchiest, hottest thing she’d ever done in her life. Click. She definitely wanted a keepsake. “Done.”
“Good girl. Now put that finger back in your pussy and fuck yourself to orgasm.”
She panted, literally panted as her finger plunged into her wet sex. Her moan filled the room as she rolled to her side. “May I touch my clit?”
He cleared his throat meaningfully.
“Please,” she amended.
“Touch everything, Scarlet. Those beautiful breasts, your strawberry nipples, your throbbing clit. I want to hear you come.”
She arched and carried on like a skilled harlot. Never before had she behaved so carnally, not alone, not with a lover, not ever. Only for Mr. Stone. “Mr. Stone. Oh, God. Oh, God!” Her cries turned into whimpers as her body rocked under the quickening pulse of her sex. “I’m coming—”
All sound disappeared as the most intense orgasm of her life ripped through her. Her spine tingled, sending shivers to her scalp, fingertips, and even the soles of her feet. Her fingers rubbed and pressed, prolonging the pleasure as her body continued to quake. As the waves slowly subsided, she squeezed her eyes shut and caught her breath. It was then she realized she wasn’t the only one with labored breathing.
Her face heated to a deep burn as she became aware of what she’d just done. Contemplating hanging up and hiding under the covers, she swallowed back her self-consciousness as Mr. Stone whispered, “Beautiful.”
Reassurance flooded her and she sighed, pressing her heated face into the pillow. Softly, she confessed, “I’ve never done that before—with someone else listening.”
“Well, I’m pleased you shared your first time with me.”
So many unspoken words wanting to be said rushed through her mind. She didn’t want to freak him out or scare him away, so she bit down on her lip, forcing herself to remain silent.
“Your wake up call is scheduled for tomorrow at six. I trust that’s enough time for you to get ready for work and have Pennyworth drive you in.”
No! She didn’t want him to go, but recognized he was preparing to say goodbye.
“Ms. Farrow?”
“Yes. That’s enough time.”
“Then I’ll wish you a goodnight. Sweet dreams, Scarlet. Eight encounters left.”
Her chest constricted as she grieved his withdrawal. “Goodnight, Mr. Stone.”
The line silenced and she felt him leave her, suffered his departure. Dropping the phone into the twisted blankets, she groaned. How could she get him to open up to her?
Chapter Twelve
“O”
“What do you think of the word pussy?”
Elliot looked up from his sandwich and dropped it into the paper wrapper. “There goes my lunch.”
“Because I said pussy?” Asher asked skeptically. “What would you like me to say, vulva?”
Elliot marched his lunch to the trash and dropped it in the bin. “I’d like to get through one day without having to discuss your personal life.” He left the room.
Asher glanced at Hunter and Jet. “What’s up his ass?”
Jet shrugged and continued devouring his meatball sub.
“He’s been in a mood since dance class,” Hunter mumbled.
Jet snorted. “He’s been in a mood since sophomore year.”
Shaking his head, he ey
ed the guys. “What do you think of the word pussy?”
Hunter shrugged. “Sort of demeaning.”
“I. Love. Pussy.” Jet hummed, sounding an awful lot like Bill Clinton.
“How is it demeaning? Other words sound silly.”
“I guess it depends what context you’re using it in. I mean, you aren’t offending me, but you clearly offended Elliot. I wouldn’t use it in front of a woman.”
Hunter’s opinion surprised him. “What if I already did?”
“Did she slap you?”
“Nope. She had an orgasm.”
Hunter stilled. “What?”
Jet chuckled. “Atta boy! Get some!”
Asher smiled, the reverberation of such a victory still astonishing him. “Yup. A real one. At least I think it was real. Either that or she should get an Academy Award.”
“Wait,” Hunter said, plopping his soda on the table. “You gave Scarlet Farrow an orgasm? How?”
He stretched back in his chair and grinned. “On the phone.”
“No way.” Hunter argued, now rapidly shaking his head. “She faked it. You can’t even give a girl an orgasm in person. There’s no way you did it without touching her.”
He brooded. “I can give a woman an orgasm in person.”
“Have you ever?” Hunter challenged, raising a dark brow.
“No, but I also never lit a building on fire. That doesn’t mean it’s outside of my ability.”
Hunter laughed. “Lighting a building on fire is a lot easier than lighting a woman on fire.”
“Man’s got a point,” Jet agreed.
“Well, I did it. To Scarlet Farrow.”
“Did what?” Elliot asked returning to the room.
“Ash gave her the big O.”
Elliot ruminated. “You gave Scarlet Farrow a character from Game Boy Advance?”
Hunter burst into peals of laughter and Asher crumpled the trash from his lunch and tossed it at him. “No, you one dimensional moron! I gave her an orgasm, not the freaking automaton from Super Robot War Destiny!”
He shrugged. “I’d rather have the action figure.”
Hunter’s laughter turned into a roar of hysterics.
“You’re so full of shit. Who wants toys when they could have orgasms?”
Elliot rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe someone not obsessed with sex.”
“Bet you’d give up a whole collection of action figures to watch Nadia come,” Jet said and Elliot scowled.
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