“I’m never wrong.” Lindsey put her mug to her lips.
Lindsey’s profound confidence swayed Rayne. Maybe she needed to stop thinking and start making a concerted effort with Trent. But where to begin? She turned to Lindsey as an idea percolated.
“So how exactly do you have…phone sex?”
Lindsey put her coffee down. “Are you interested in trying it out with your riding instructor?”
“Technically he’s a riding master at our stables. The person in charge of all the other—”
“Rayne,” Lindsey roared. “I could care less if you call him your scout master and let him tie you up in his pup tent. What I want to know is…does this guy turn you on?”
Rayne already knew the answer to that question. She had been thinking about his luscious body ever since the first day she had laid eyes on him.
“Don’t laugh, but….” She nodded her head. “Yeah, he really does. I don’t know how to describe it.”
Lindsey’s evil grin betrayed her angelic features. “That’s good. Now we’re getting somewhere.” Her plastic office chair squeaked on the linoleum floor as she jerked it closer to Rayne. “If you want to get him to have phone sex with you, you have to start out by letting him know you’re interested in trying it,” she began.
“How do I do that? Just ask him?”
“No, you have to be subtle about it,” Lindsey suggested, with an insistent shrug of her shoulders.
“Subtle? About phone sex?” Rayne snickered, sitting back in her chair.
“I usually start out by telling Casey about how much I miss him and how lonely I am without him.” Lindsey playfully leered. “That really gets him going.”
“But I can’t stay that. I hardly know Trent.”
“So use another approach. Flirt with him.”
Rayne’s dark eyebrows rose up. “Flirt?”
“You do remember how to flirt, don’t you?”
Biting her lower lip, Rayne clutched her coffee mug. “I think it should come back to me, eventually.”
***
Driving back from the stables after a quick work out with Bob, Rayne stared at the iPhone on the car seat next to her, waiting for it to ring. Ever since her tutorial with Lindsey earlier that morning on the finer points of phone sex, she had been a complete wreck. Sex had always been awkward enough for her, but now having to describe it over the phone to someone was more than a little intimidating. But Lindsey had promised that it was a sure fire way to find out how interested Trent was in their relationship.
As she pulled into her driveway and hit the remote on her garage door, her anxiety increased, knowing his call could come at any minute. After flying in the back door, petting Frank, and then banging her backpack down on the beige kitchen countertop, she went to her refrigerator and lugged out the carton of orange juice. As she chugged the sweet liquid, she yearned for something with a bit more substance. Remembering the bottle of amaretto she kept in the cabinet below the sink, she put the carton of juice down on the counter and went to retrieve the liquor.
With a tall iced tea glass of orange juice and amaretto, and her cell phone in the back pocket of her blue jeans, she made her way to her bedroom door. Just as she was putting the glass down on her dark pine dresser, she heard her jazzy ringtone.
“Hey, Trent.”
“Hello, Rayne.” He sounded worn out and his voice lacked the smoothness she had grown addicted to.
“You okay? You sound tired.” She took her drink and had a seat on her brass bed.
“I spent the day in meetings with a few of the staff around here. I guess I’m talked out.”
“Then why don’t we make this a short call and you can get some rest?” Rayne sipped from her glass.
“No,” he insisted in a firm tone. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
Her heart beat a little faster at his disclosure. “You have?”
“Now why do you sound surprised?” He sighed heavily into the phone speaker. “If you don’t know how I feel about you by now….”
She took another bolstering gulp from her drink. “I think I can guess.”
“I promise after this weekend, you won’t have to guess anymore,” he asserted in his sexy, husky voice.
His determined tone made Rayne tremble with anticipation. She pictured his hands roaming over her body as his words repeated in her mind. Instantly, Lindsey’s advice from earlier that day popped into her head.
“But what exactly do you plan on doing to me this weekend? I mean, to show me how you feel?” She hoped she sounded flirty enough for him to get the hint.
He was very quiet on the other end of the line, making Rayne wonder if she had gone too far.
“Where are you?” His voice was darker and edged with insistence.
“Sitting on my bed. Why?”
Another moment of silence from him tore at her nerves, and then he whispered, “What are you wearing?”
Unhinged by the lust in his voice, Rayne took a swig from her drink. “I’m in my riding jeans,” she answered.
“Are you going to put on your sweats?”
She put her drink down on the dark pine nightstand by her bed. “I was.”
“I have an idea.”
Rayne’s hand gripped the phone. The captivating change in his voice was alluring as hell. He was not the friendly Trent she had spent the past few nights talking to; he was different.
“I’m listening.” She focused on keeping calm.
“I want you to…undress for me.”
When she heard the sensual throatiness of his voice, she began to panic. What Lindsey had described sounded fun at the time, but with Trent…she was not sure she could go through with it.
“Rayne? Do you want me to go on?”
Spurred on by the sound of his voice, she murmured, “Yes, Trent. I want you to go on.”
“Unzip your jeans and slide them down your thighs.”
Rayne placed the phone by her jeans so he could listen as she slowly lowered the metal zipper down the track. Then, she scooted back on the bed, put the phone to the side, and inched the jeans down around her thighs and all the way to her ankles.
“I’m on the bed and my jeans are off.” She kept her voice soft and breathless, just like Lindsey had told her.
“Tell me you want me to go on, Rayne.”
His voice was killing her. She took a breath, and then turned to the phone on the bed next to her. “Go on, Trent. Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Take your hand and run it lightly up and down your stomach, and then across your breasts. Tease your skin with your touch.”
She closed her eyes and tried to relax as her hands scraped across the outside of her T-shirt.
“Imagine it’s me doing this to you,” he suggested over the speaker.
“I wish….”
“What do you wish, Rayne? Tell me.”
“I…I wish it was you.” She slapped her hand over her mouth, completely embarrassed that she had even mentioned such a thing.
“Soon, Rayne, soon.” He paused. “Take off your shirt and bra.”
She fumbled with her clothes as he waited patiently on the phone.
“All right, they’re off,” she told him, reclining back on the bed.
“Now slide your underwear down and drop them along with your jeans to the floor. I want you naked on the bed. Then, I want you to listen to the sound of my voice and do exactly as I say. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Trent.” She kicked off her jeans and tossed her beige silk panties to the floor. As she lay naked on the bed, the burning desire coursing up from her groin began to take over her senses.
“I’m naked. What do you want me to do?”
Nothing. There were no words, no sounds from him. The absence of any noise from the phone speaker went on for what felt like an eternity to Rayne; then, very softly, he ordered, “Open your legs, reach down, and touch yourself.”
Gulping back her disbelief at what she was ab
out to do, she slowly lowered her hand to the valley between her legs. When her fingers touched her moist flesh, she sighed.
“Do you like the way it feels?” His voice was like a drug.
“Yes,” she moaned into the phone.
“Run your fingers up and down. Think of me as you do it. I want you to think only of me, Rayne.”
She imagined Trent beside her in the bed, his muscular chest, tanned arms, and supple hands rubbing against her. She tried to taste his kiss on her lips, the way he had kissed her in the kitchen, and then a jolt of electricity zipped through her.
“What do you feel, Rayne?”
She yanked her hand away. “What do I feel?” she echoed, becoming nervous. “I’m not sure what you—”
“Relax. It’s not a test. I just want to know how this makes you feel.”
“Silly,” she confessed into the phone. “I’ve never done this before, and I’m beginning to understand why.”
“It’s just like when you do it alone, but this time I get to listen in. Now tell me how you feel. Are you turned on?”
She let out a long breath. “You have to ask?”
“What you are feeling? Describe it to me.”
“I feel warm and tingly all over.”
“Close your eyes and picture me there, lying beside you. What would you want me to do to you?”
She closed her eyes, and her mind was consumed with images of him. “I would want you to touch me…there.”
“Put your hand where you would want mine to be.”
She slowly moved her hand back between her legs.
“Think of me and do what you would want me to do,” he went on. “Your hands are my hands.”
The sound of his voice over the phone speaker was mesmerizing. She worked her fingers up and down her folds as she imagined Trent touching her in the exact same way. The urgency in her groin rose as her fingers moved faster.
“Rayne, I want to hear you say my name.”
“Trent,” she gasped.
“Do you like how this feels?”
“Oh God,” she moaned as her approaching orgasm crept up her belly.
“Do you want me inside of you?”
“Yes,” she cried out.
“Are you going to come for me?”
She ached for release as she stroked her sensitive nub. Rayne could feel the tension bending her like a taut bow. “Yes, yes, I can feel it….” She groaned as her body flexed.
“That’s it,” Trent calmly encouraged. “Let go, baby.”
Rayne threw her head back and cried out as a burst of white heat tore through her.
When she settled on the bed, breathing hard and feeling a light film of sweat covering her brow, she forgot for a moment about the man listening on the other end of her phone.
“I wish I could hold you in my arms.” Trent’s voice was like velvet.
She opened her eyes, and as if realizing what she had just done, her glow of satisfaction quickly turned into a flush of shame.
“God, did I really just…? I can’t believe I—”
“Hey, don’t do that,” he cut in. “It was wonderful, Rayne. You brought you and me pleasure, and there is nothing wrong with that.”
She clapped her hand over her eyes. “I feel so cheap.”
Trent’s warm laughter made her smile. “Just think about this weekend, and when I have you all alone, I will do everything you just did and so much more. I promise you that.”
Biting back her returning desire, she picked up the phone on the bed next to her, cradling it in her hands. “I was going to tell you to go to hell the other night. I was going to say we could only be friends, and nothing more.”
“But you don’t feel that way about me anymore, do you?”
She hesitated before she answered. “No, not after…what we just did.”
“That’s good, because I would never have let you just give up on me like that. I can be pretty determined, Rayne.”
She blew out a long breath, stretching out on the bed. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
“Next time you feel the urge to run, talk to me. I want you to come to me whenever you’re nervous or scared. All right?”
“Sure, Trent.”
“Promise me, Rayne.”
She nodded her head. “I promise.”
“Good girl.”
“I can’t wait to see what we do tomorrow night.” She giggled and wiped her hand over her face. “Might be hard to top this.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to be tied up in meetings for the next two nights. I have a dinner party to attend tomorrow night at Tyler Moore’s house in Dallas. He’s the CEO who hired me for this job, and he wants to introduce me to a few of his friends in the oil business.”
“A dinner party at an oil tycoon’s fancy mansion? Poor you.” An image of him rubbing elbows with the rich and powerful fueled Rayne’s doubts about why he was pursuing her.
“It will be all about business,” Trent’s low voice broke into her thoughts. “Then I have the wrap-up meeting Friday night with Tyler’s department heads to discuss my findings. So we won’t have a chance to speak again until Saturday at the stables.”
A trickle of disappointment tightened her throat. “I understand. You have a job to do,” she said, sounding upbeat.
“I’ll be thinking of you the entire time, trust me.”
“Trust you?” She took a breath, leaving him hanging, and then added, “I’m not there yet, Trent.”
“But you will be, Rayne. One day you will trust me.”
“We’ll see.” She sat up in the bed. “But in the meantime, you should get back to work, and I need to feed Frank.”
“How is fluff face?”
Rayne spotted Frank waiting at her bedroom door. “Looking hungry?”
“Better see to him while I get back to my reports. With the way I’m going, I’ll be pulling another all nighter to get everything finished in time for my meetings.”
“Don’t work too hard,” she offered, feeling a little sad he had to go.
“Not to worry. I have thoughts of you and this weekend to keep me going.”
Rayne’s insides ignited with his words. “Do you want to hear something funny?”
“Absolutely,” he cooed.
“I think I’m nervous about seeing you again.”
“Don’t be nervous, Rayne. Tonight was only a prelude of what is to come. Pleasant dreams.” Then Trent hung up, leaving a mystified Rayne staring at her cell phone and wondering how she had let things progress so far.
“I must be crazy.” She tossed her iPhone to the bed.
Jumping up, she went to her favorite sweat suit laid out on a flower print high back chair by her bedroom door. After slipping on the gray sweat pants and sweater top, she clapped her hands at Frank.
“Come on, buddy. Let’s eat.”
With a happy Frank at her side, she made her way down the short beige hallway to her living room. As she crossed the plush burgundy carpet to her kitchen, the reality of what she had done with Trent hit her and the heat rose in her cheeks.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look him in the face again.” She spotted Frank dancing beside her, anxious for his dinner. “Maybe if you had chewed his face off that first night he came here, I wouldn’t be in this situation.”
Frank let out a loud “woof.”
She nodded her head. “Yeah, I know. I like him, too.”
Chapter 7
Existing. That was how Rayne saw her life evolving over the next two days. It was if she were going through withdrawal by knowing she was not going to hear from Trent. She was anxious, jumped every time a cell phone rang, and found her mind continuously drifting back to their night of intimacy over the phone.
What struck her as odd was that she had grown comforted by his phone calls. When she returned home that Thursday night from a long afternoon with Bob, Rayne had been sad knowing that she would not hear from him. She had occupied her time by paying bills and doing yoga,
but as her bedtime hour came and went, she was unable to sleep.
Visions of Trent’s dinner party slowly turned from the business dinner he had professed to an orgy with prostitutes and horny businessmen running amuck. Rayne knew her overzealous imagination was getting the better of her, but she questioned if there was more to Trent Newbury than the simple life he described. After all, what did she really know about the man?
By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, her casual second-guessing about Trent’s lurid life away from the stables had morphed into something akin to a porn movie. As she envisioned him with a boatload of girlfriends, having affairs with wealthy, married women, and living a lifestyle even a gigolo would envy, she would talk herself out of seeing him again.
“He could be toying with me,” she told Frank that evening as she sat at her breakfast bar and picked at her frozen dinner of rice pilaf with chicken tenders marinated in a white wine sauce. “Maybe I’m just a distraction until something better comes along.”
Frank tipped his ears forward, but seemed more interested in her microwave dinner than what she was saying.
“I knew I should never have listened to Lindsey. That’s what you get for letting a girlfriend talk you into—”
Her cell phone ringtone reverberated inside her backpack on the counter next to her. She bolted from her stool and grabbed at her backpack. When she spied the number on her phone, her heart sputtered. With a slight shake of her head, Rayne flipped her thumb across the iPhone screen and took the call.
“Hello, Estelle.”
“You would think you’d be over that adolescent phase you’ve been in for twenty years and start calling me Mom,” a raspy voice drenched in a Texas twang came over the speaker of her phone.
“How many scotches have you had tonight, ‘Mom’?” Rayne returned to her stool and eyed her half-eaten dinner.
“Why didn’t you come and see me today?”
Rayne jabbed at her rice pilaf with her fork. “What makes you think I was coming to see you today?”
“It’s Saturday. You always come to visit on Saturday.”
“It’s Friday, Estelle, not Saturday. And I stopped coming to visit on Saturday’s when I started teaching my riding classes last year, remember?”
The Riding Master Page 7
