Oh my God. I don’t understand what just happened.
I sit in my chair, blinking fast and sniffling, staring at my phone. I don’t know how long I sit there, my eyes glued to the screen, hoping it’ll ring again. It’s probably been only five minutes, but it feels like hours.
Taking a deep breath, I set my phone aside and head into the bathroom washing my tears away. I take my time, slathering on some moisturizer and brushing my teeth, and after a few minutes, I’m starting to feel normal again. A little less shaky.
When I come out, Richard is standing there leaning against the wall, hands stuffed in his blue jeans. He’s smirking, his shoulders are shaking with silent laughter, and looking at him, at the knowing look in his eyes, I know he was eavesdropping.
My temper flares white-hot.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his smirk stretching, turning into a full-blown smile. “You get into a fight with your little convict?”
I glare at him, long and hard. “Don’t call him that,” I say sharply, enunciating every single syllable. “He has a name.”
Richard only laughs, and I spin around, walking back into my office, slamming the door behind me.
God, I hope he doesn’t stay long.
6
Best Sex Ever
It’s been a long day, mostly because I barely slept last night. My stupid brain kept replaying the conversation with Joshua over and over, trying to make sense out of it, but yeah, I couldn’t. Still can’t. We’re friends. Just friends. And friends don’t freak out when someone doesn’t answer the phone.
When I gave up on sleeping, I spent a few hours seriously considering shutting down the phone line, and cancelling my prepaid calling account. The problem with that, though, is that every time I think about not hearing his voice again, my heart feels like it’s cracking.
Then, I spent a few more hours trying to figure out what I did that was so horrible that he’d yell at me the way he had, wondering how I can fix it, and if he’ll even give me the chance to try.
Ugh. Who am I kidding? We’re not just friends. We’re … well, I don’t know what we are, but just friends isn’t it.
The cold hard truth? I’m … attached and I don’t want it to be over, but the question remains: what is it?
It’s a little after two o’clock in the afternoon and I’m hiding in my office since Richard’s still home. I can hear him cursing from across the hall. The boat project must not be going well today. He hasn’t done his laundry or picked up his dry cleaning yet, so I assume he’s staying overnight, but he won’t tell me either way.
I should be working, but I can’t concentrate. I’ve been checking my phone constantly since I woke up this morning, making sure it’s on, checking if the ringer is turned up.
I’m agonizing, I know.
I don’t know what to do about the argument.
I don’t know what to do with myself.
I glare down at my phone again, because it hasn’t rung all day, not that I expect it to. After the way Joshua ended things last night, I won’t be surprised if I never hear from him again.
A shrill ring echoes through the room. My heart stops, and then races. I snatch up my phone, my heart stalling for a second before I glance at the caller display.
Please be him. Please be him. Please be him.
It’s him. Holy shit! It’s him. He’s calling.
My heart thunders in my chest, beating like a jackhammer as I answer it, impatiently waiting for the recording to end, for my chance to accept the call.
“How’s my beautiful angel doing?” Joshua says as soon as the line clicks through. He sounds upbeat today, happy even.
Not what I expected. Not at all.
I hesitate. “I’m fine. How are you?”
I’m a mess really, but I’m not about to admit it.
“I don’t believe you,” he says. “You’re a shitty liar, baby girl. You’re still mad about yesterday, aren’t you?”
Despite myself, I smile at that. I can’t believe how well this man knows me.
“You yelled at me,” I say quietly. “Then you hung up on me and I thought I wasn’t going to hear from you again. So, yeah, Joshua, I’m a little mad.”
“You didn’t answer your phone,” he says simply. “You need to learn.”
I snort out a laugh. “Are you kidding me right now? I’m not always going to be around to answer the phone for you.”
“You should be,” he says, a tinge of irritation seeping into his voice. “I waited in line for hours yesterday. People watched me wait in line and call you over and over, and you didn’t pick up your fucking phone. It’s fucking embarrassing. You wasted my time. You made me look like an idiot.”
I blink. I don’t even know what to say to that. Embarrassed. He yelled at me because he was embarrassed. Really?
“You always pick up every time I call,” he continues, “and when you didn’t, I got extremely worried about you. I didn’t know if something happened to you or if you and Richard got into a fight. I’ve lost a lot of people while I’ve been locked up and I was afraid I’d lost you, too. I caught feelings for you, baby girl, and I thought something happened to you and there was nothing I could do about it. I was fucking worried, and when you finally picked up, you were being a bitch about it. I’ve showed you the sweet loving side to me because I felt like you deserved it. It’s a side that not too many people get to see, but I’m not going to let some bitch speak to me like you did yesterday.”
“Really, you’re calling me a bitch now?”
“You were being a bitch yesterday.”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter. And I am. The truth is, I’ve been sorry since I realized I forgot my phone.
Joshua laughs, all seriousness gone from his tone. “Say it again, this time try to make it believable.”
“I’m not sure I can do that yet,” I say teasingly, laughter in my voice. “Give me an hour or two, okay?”
My response makes him laugh again, this time a full, loud laugh. It’s an amazing sound, packed full of raw energy and when he speaks again, his voice is deeper than normal. “Is your pussy wet, baby?”
I blink and let out an awkward laugh, surprised by the question. Some of our calls and letters have touched on sexual stuff, but he’s never been this blunt before. What is he doing here?
“No,” I say after a moment, though my voice doesn’t come out nearly as confident as I would have liked. The truth is, as soon as he asked, I could feel the dampness gather between my legs.
He hums. “Again with the lying. I hope this doesn’t become a habit.” He pauses for a beat, and when I say nothing, he continues. “Stick your hand in your panties and tell me.”
“No,” I repeat, this time a little firmer. “Joshua, I can’t do this with you.” And I can’t. Even if Richard wasn’t home, playing with that stupid boat right across the hallway from my office, engaging in phone sex just isn’t right.
I’m still married.
I still live with my husband—kind of.
It’s just … not right, even if Richard knows it’s over between us.
Joshua chuckles. “Yes you can. I know you want to be my little slut. Be a good girl and reach into those panties. I want you to tell me how wet your pussy is.”
I swallow hard, feeling heat coil through my body. Shit, I want to. I really, really want to, but again I say, “I can’t. We can’t. Richard’s home and …”
He doesn’t listen to me. Actually, he right out ignores me, cutting me off. “You know what I’m picturing? I’m picturing you in nothing but a garter belt and thigh high sheer stockings. You’ve got on a pair of stiletto heels, and you’re in the kitchen cooking me dinner.”
I laugh awkwardly. “No one cooks dinner in a garter belt, stockings, and heels.”
Again he ignores me. “I walk up behind you, slapping your ass once nice and hard, and then I lean down and start kissing your neck.”
“Please stop,” I whisper, though I don’t mean it, and he he
ars it. He knows.
“You don’t really want me to stop, do you, baby girl?”
I don’t respond, but I don’t have to. This man who has only known me through letters and a handful of phone calls knows me better than anyone else. He knows me better than anyone ever has.
I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“I grab you by the hips, spinning you around, and back you up against the wall. My hands slide around, cupping that perfect ass of yours, squeezing hard as I lift you up, telling you to wrap those thick thighs around my waist.”
My heartbeat picks up, thrumming away in my chest, and I make a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper.
If he hears it, he doesn’t let on. “I dip my head, taking one of your hard nipples into my mouth, biting down, then sucking the sting away, before moving on to your other perfect breast. After I’m done sucking on your nipples, I walk you over to the kitchen table, and in one solid motion I knock everything off, and set you down. I kiss my way down your body until I’m on my knees, placing your legs on my shoulders. Then, I start kissing the inside of one of your thighs until I reach your pussy, making sure it’s nice and wet. I stick my tongue inside your cunt, tasting your juices and trailing my fingers up your legs to your inner thighs, gliding a finger into your tight pussy while my tongue starts doing circles on your clit.”
My stomach is in knots, and my breath is short. Jesus, what is this man doing to me? I’ve never been so turned on before. My hands are shaking and my voice whispers softly as I say, “You make me so wet.”
And it’s true. I don’t have to reach into my panties to feel the wetness—I’m so saturated I can feel it soaking them.
It’s unreal.
It’s amazing.
I’ve always had trouble getting wet with Richard. It doesn’t matter how much foreplay we have, we still need lube. But with Joshua, all he has to do is say a few words and my pussy is soaking.
“Good,” he says. “Touch yourself for me, baby. Rub your clit a little.”
“Okay,” I whimper, my voice cracking on the word. God, I feel like a gawky teenager, all shaky and blushing. But … my pussy has never, and I mean never, been this soaked.
I undo my jeans, hesitantly reaching down and running a finger along my clit. It’s throbbing, my wet channel clenching, begging to be filled.
“I start working my tongue faster, flicking your clit,” he says. “Every time I pull my fingers in and out of your pussy, you moan a little louder and your legs start shaking on my shoulders. I know you’re liking what I’m doing. Your nails are digging into my head. I know you’re ready to come, so I keep moving faster, thrusting my fingers in and out, until your pussy starts to clench and you come around my digits.”
Gasping at the image, I rub my clit and pump my fingers inside me. My body shudders, and my heart races. I want more, need more. More of him.
“Once you finish coming, I pull my fingers out of your pussy, standing up and sticking them into your mouth, telling you to lick them clean. Then, I undo my jeans, taking my hard cock out. It’s dripping with pre-come and I press it deep inside you. Baby, I love how wet and tight your pussy is. As I’m working my hips back and forth, I dip my head sucking on one of your hard nipples, and then the other.”
Pleasure explodes inside of me, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I close my eyes, swallowing down the moan that’s creeping up my throat. I’m close, so, so close …
“I grab your throat, and my lips meet yours, my tongue darts into your mouth as my other hand grips your ass. I start fucking you harder, slamming my cock in and out of your tight cunt. Your hand goes down to your clit and you start rubbing it. Our warm bodies are pressed so tight, our hearts racing in our chests, and I feel like I’m going to come, but I want you to come again, so I lean down, whispering in your ear, “Come for me, my little slut.”’
And I do. My orgasm grabs me, and I let out a soft moan, arching my back as my wet walls convulse. “I’m coming,” I say, though my voice is barely a whisper.
Joshua pauses, giving me a moment to catch my breath. I relax back in my seat, panting as the sensation subsides, my body feeling like Jell-O.
We’re both quiet for a moment, my breathing, the only sound filling the line between us. When he speaks again, his voice is soft and sweet. “Did you come good, baby girl?”
“Yes,” I whisper, and then I say, “Yes, thank you.”
“Anytime, baby.”
And then, the one-minute warning plays on the line.
“I’m going to go jerk off,” he says. “I’ll call you later.”
“Okay,” I say, and then he hangs up.
I set down the phone, slowly doing up my pants, before curling up into my chair, resting my head on the plush pillow. I never thought that the steamiest sex I’d ever have would be on my phone.
Shit. What did I just do?
I’m a horrible, horrible person.
7
New Hobbies and Garden Shears
“My legs hurt.”
Joshua laughs. “I’m sorry, baby. You still driving?”
“Yes,” I mutter, readjusting in my seat. Note to self, indoor spin class equals muscle agony. “It’s like my legs are on fire, and I hurt everywhere. I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea.”
Okay, that’s not entirely true. I know exactly why I thought trying out a spin class was a good idea. Not only has my weight loss slowed down over the last couple of weeks and spinning is supposed to be a great cardio workout, but I figured that it might be easier than running since there’s a seat.
I was totally wrong.
“You did it because you needed to change up your workout,” he says, his tone hinting at his amusement. “Don’t be a pussy about it. When you get home, put some BENGAY on your legs. They’ll feel better.”
“Right,” I say, squirming a little more as I flick on my signal, changing lanes. Then, feeling a little uncomfortable complaining to him about how out of shape I am and wanting to talk about something, anything but my burning muscles, I say, “I have a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“If you found a spider in your house,” I say, pulling up to a stop light, “would you kill it or put it outside?”
He laughs. “Well, I’ve been bitten by two poisonous spiders, so I’d kill it. Where did that come from?”
The light changes to green, and I give the car some gas. “I’m not really sure. It just came to me.”
He laughs again. “Aww, changing the subject. Was I making you uncomfortable, beautiful?”
“Maybe a little bit,” I mumble, feeling my face flush. I don’t know what it is about him calling me beautiful that makes me squirm, but damn, I like it. I like it a lot. “So what are your plans for the day?”
“I’ve got REC at eleven, twelve your time,” he says, still chuckling under his breath. “If a movie’s on later, I’ll probably watch that, but other than that, my day’s wide open. You?”
“Not really sure yet.” I hesitate, running through my schedule in my mind. “I’ll probably work for a bit, but Richard was still home when I left, so …”
“Really? Doesn’t he have to work?”
“I don’t know. I asked, but all he’d say was that he was going back to work when he felt like it.”
Joshua lets out an aggravated huff. “I don’t know how you put up with his shit. It drives me crazy knowing that you’re stuck there with him, dealing with him, and there’s nothing I can do about it. You really need to start thinking about getting out, beautiful. Make a plan.”
“Yeah, I guess I do,” I agree, because he’s right. I do need to make a plan, an exit strategy of sorts.
Joshua keeps talking, rambling on about the weather and his workout. He tells me what’s on the menu for the day, grumbling about how much he hates fish and mayo, and I fill him in on all the errands I have to run, and the housekeeping I’ve been slacking on. The conversation flows easily, just falling from the tongue
naturally, and it strikes me, when was the last time I’ve felt so comfortable with someone that we could fill a conversation with mindless chatter without getting bored? I can hardly remember.
Maybe never.
When I pull into the driveway, the garage is wide open. Richard is there, standing in front of the house, eyeing my rosebushes with what looks like a pair of garden shears in hand.
I freeze, my hand resting on the gear shift as my eyes take in the mess. I’m guessing he’s been out here for a while because the beautiful bushes have been … trimmed, half the blossoms now covering the lawn.
My rosebushes.
The rosebushes I planted when I moved in with him.
Really?
Stomach sinking, I let go of the gear shift, turning off the car, eyeing Richard cautiously. “Joshua, I think I have to go. Richard’s, uh … outside, and it looks like he’s gardening.”
“Really?” Joshua sounds confused. “He’s gardening?”
“Well …” I hesitate. “He’s doing something with the garden.”
“Is there a problem?” Joshua asks, his tone changing, hardening.
“Not sure yet,” I tell him. “I’m sure it’s nothing. He’s probably just in a mood. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“No,” he says. “I want to stay on the phone with you. Make sure everything’s okay.”
“I, uh …” His tone is chilling, cold and angry. I have no idea how to make him feel okay again, what to say to bring back the playful, talkative man from moments ago. Shit. I shouldn’t have said anything. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”
“Victoria …”
“It’s fine,” I repeat, cutting him short. “I can handle him. Besides, you can’t do …” I stall mid-sentence, biting off the words, hoping like hell I didn’t offend him.
Way to make him feel better, Vic.
Ugh, I’m such an insensitive bitch.
“Right,” he says, his voice losing all emotion, turning blank. “You’re right, there’s nothing I can do. Just don’t let him push you around, okay? Stand up for yourself.”
If I Could Do It Again Page 5
