Mayhem Under The Mistletoe

by Nina Auril

  The voice that answers me isn’t Angela’s. “I hope you’re not talking about me. Cause I sure as hell don’t have any dolls in my house, let alone naked ones. What’s happening in your mind, Cat Thief?”

  I swallow. I don’t know what else to do. I’m stunned into silence by his voice; like velvet and storms or fog and rain. Strong but smooth and intense, but refreshing. The kind of voice you want to hear poems from, the kind of voice I imagine my fictional heroes have.

  “Beau got your tongue, Cat Thief? You were talking very fluently just a second ago.”

  “Stop calling me Cat Thief.” It’s the only response my mind can make up at this moment. It’s either this or pillow talk, since my writer’s brain finds this moment like a scene in an erotica book.

  “Would you prefer kitten?” he asks. His voice drops an octave, becomes huskier, sexier.

  He said kitten… just like the kinky hero in my latest book.

  Taking a shaky breath, I ask, “Why are you calling me?”

  “Because you’ve been frustrating me. Also, I’d like to prove that I’m not some old pervert. And surprisingly, it turns out you’re not some kind of Dolores Umbridge. At least your voice doesn’t sound like it.”

  A smile forms on my face. “Wow. That’s the nicest thing you’ve said about me so far, you know?”

  “I’m not that bad after all, am I?”

  I laugh, “Sorry, it’s too early to make a conclusion like that.”

  “Hmm, I’ll need more than an almost compliment to have you like me then,” he mutters.

  “I was a Cat Thief just a moment ago, and now you want me to like you? You’re strange, mister.”

  He laughs and asks, “So, what’s your name?”

  “Ophelia.”

  He repeats my name over and over. With every repeat, I like my name more. His tongue caresses every syllable, and it sounds more sexual with that hint of an accent. “What do you do, Ophelia?” he asks after a while, bringing me out of my fantasy world where he growls my name in my ear as he fucks me.

  “Why do you want to know?” My voice is hoarse with the inappropriate thoughts that fill my mind, but I can’t really be surprised. It’s a job hazard that my mind is always in the gutter.

  “Maybe I’m just trying to get to know the woman my cat lives with.”

  I roll my eyes at him, but answer anyway, “I’m a writer.”

  “What kind of writer? Do you write those raunchy, filthy, smutty sex books?” His voice is amused and seductive.

  “Maybe,” I drag out.

  “You’re getting more and more interesting each second, Ophelia,” he says, causing a shiver to run through my spine with the intensity of his voice. Dammit, he could be a sex-call operator with that voice.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Hendrix.”

  I smile. “Well, what do you do, Hendrix? Are you a sex-call operator?” I ask before I can stop myself. Damn, my big mouth.

  He laughs loudly. “Ophelia, Ophelia… why do you think that?” he says before adding with bedroom voice, “Is my voice turning you on?”

  Just as I try to find a good answer to that, the doorbell rings.

  “Doorbell. Interview. I gotta go,” I mutter and end the call before I can embarrass myself any further.

  Who would have thought my cat’s taste in owners was this good?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Hendrix

  I let out a surprised laugh when the phone goes dead in my ear. I shake my head, and I reprogram her name from Cat Thief to Sexy Voiced Cat Thief.

  All raspy and seductive and dipping a little lower when she flirted back. She doesn’t sound like the fifty-year-old spinster I imagined her to be. And all that sass. Not a man alive who’s interested isn’t peeked by a bit of sass in a woman.

  “Yuck.” I look up to find Carter looking at me, a disgusted look on his face.

  “What?” I frown, confused. I look down at myself. Yep, still have all my clothes on. And Carter just went to fetch the Chinese at the door; so I couldn’t have made a mess of myself already.

  “You have a stupid smile on your face. Like that one you get when you see a woman who…” he stops short and looks between me and my phone, then starts to violently shake his head. “No. Nope. En. Oh.”

  “No, what? I haven’t done anything.”

  “Oh, I know that look. You’ve found a piece of ass that you find interesting. No distractions. There is still way too much to be done before Christmas, and I need a goddamn vacation. No way we’re getting it all done this week with you distracted. I’m putting up with all this Christmas craziness, but I am not putting up with a woman.” He’s actually shaking a finger at me. I roll my eyes at him.

  “I’m not distracted. It was one phone call.”

  Carter places his hands on his hips and raises an eyebrow at me.

  “Whatever. Fine. No distractions. Where’s the food?”

  We continue working in silence as we eat our food. Me on finishing three Christmas comics to be posted during the month while we take a well-deserved break and Carter sorting out the admin and business side of things. At the end of the day we go over the schedule for the next couple of days and plan what needs to get done the next day. It’s late by the time he leaves, and I’m so tired I barely have the energy to drag my ass through the shower, but the thought of getting in between my clean sheets with a dirty body, grosses me out, and I get it done.

  I throw away the empty takeout boxes and rinse the plates and cutlery we used before placing them in the dishwasher and make my way to the bedroom. I slump down on my bed and set the alarm on my phone for the ass crack of dawn. I get under the sheets and turn out the lights, expecting sleep to overtake before my head even hits the pillow. But it doesn’t.

  Instead, I lay in the dark and hear that raspy, breathy little laugh over and over in my head. I scrub a hand over my face.

  No distractions, Hendrix.

  No distractions.

  No distractions.

  No distractions.

  I reach for my phone to check the time. It’s already a quarter to twelve, and I need to be up early.

  No distractions.

  No distractions.

  I wonder if she’s still awake.

  Nope. No distractions.

  Me: Are you awake?

  I groan out loud. I have zero self-control. I stare at my phone and then when I get no answer, place it back on the nightstand. She’s probably asleep.

  I turn over and close my eyes, ready to force myself to sleep, but when I hear the buzz of my phone vibrating, I can’t reach it fast enough.

  Ophelia: Just got into bed. What’s up?

  Me: Alone?

  Ophelia: No, Austin is here too ;)

  Minx.

  Me: Send me a picture.

  I laugh when I receive a picture of a beautiful sunset over a serene dam.

  Me: Nice. But that’s not what I meant. I want a picture of MY cat.

  Ophelia: Then you should have been more specific.

  Me: Can I have a picture of MY cat.

  Me: Please.

  Ophelia: No.

  Me: Why not?

  Ophelia: I don’t know where your cat is. I only have MY cat here. Can’t help. Sorry.

  I laugh again and shake my head.

  Me: Very sad. My heart hurts.

  Ophelia: I’m sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to help?

  My mind goes to a million different places. All of them dirty and none of them what she probably meant. But, no risk no gain, right?

  Me: Yes. Show me what you look like.

  I hold my breath in anticipation until my chest hurts. She’s gone quiet. Did I scare her off? I’ve just about given up on her when my phone vibrates in my hand.

  Ophelia: You first.

  My eyebrows rise. I should have seen that coming. And why am I suddenly nervous? What if she sees me and turns into one of those ditz’ s who giggle at anything I say. I’m enjoying her sass wa
y too much.

  Oh, my god.

  What if she doesn’t like my face? What if she sees it and never speaks to me again? What if she takes the picture to the police and they drape it all over town as some kind of weird cat sex offender?

  I’m being ridiculous.

  But I’m still having way too much fun to ruin it now by sending a picture. I send her a picture of my arm instead. Maybe there was flexing. So? Maybe I do still want her to find me sexy.

  Ophelia: LOL! I’ve never spoken to an arm before. Maybe I’ve had too much wine tonight.

  I frown. That’s it? No comment on my impressive physique?

  I send another of my abs. The sheets pulled down low to just enough to be obscene but without showing the good bits.

  Me: There’s more to me than just an arm ;)

  Me: Your turn.

  I sit up in bed and lean back against the headboard. Eager to see what she’ll show me. When the picture finally comes through, I start choking on my saliva. The picture is of Beau cuddled up on her lap as she’s laying down in bed. But that’s not what got my attention.

  Nope.

  What got my attention is the shirt she’s wearing. Obviously meant for sleeping, it’s Harry Potter themed. The words ‘I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good’ written across the thin material. The words stretched across her ample tits. Her luscious curves on full display. I bring the phone closer and squint at it. I swear I can see her nipples.

  I reach for my glasses next to the bed and… yep. Nipples. Hard nipples. My cock jerks.

  Me: You owe me one more…

  After a few beats, she sends another.

  “Holy fuck. Holy. Fuck.” I mutter to myself. Just lay me out and call me distracted. In this picture, Beau is nowhere to be seen. Neither are her sheets. All I see is a black triangle of fabric between her creamy thighs with the words ‘My Precious’ stamped across it.

  I save both pictures to a password protected folder which I promptly name ‘Spank Bank’ and then palm my raging hard-on while I think of something to say.

  Me: May I Slytherin?

  Oh, what the fuck you corny asshole. Way to let your geek flag fly.

  Ophelia: Oooh, I don’t think you can handle it. One night with me and they’ll call YOU Moaning Myrtle…

  Me: I’m sure you’ll find me more than able. Have you heard of Platform 9 and ¾? Because I know of something else with those exact measurements.

  Ophelia: Careful. My name may not be Luna, but I sure know how to Lovegood.

  I’m about to become dehydrated. Either by the tears falling from laughing so hard or the precum seeping out of my hard cock. This sassy girl with the great tits is as big of a geek as I am. Before I know what I’m doing, I press dial on my phone and hold the phone to my ear, waiting for her to answer.

  “Hello?” Her raspy, breathy voice sounds almost shy when she answers.

  “Are you using the Confundus Charm? Or are you just naturally mind-blowing?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ophelia

  I laugh at his quick remarks and to be honest, it’s hot. I’ve liked geeks since the age of one.

  “Are you a Lumos charm, cause you’re turning me on.” My voice gets breathier.

  “Do I now?” A smile is obvious in his voice. “What are you doing, Ophelia?” he asks. His voice is husky, and when I close my eyes, I can almost feel his breath on my ear.

  My hand was already on its way to my panties. “You must have put an Imperio curse on me,” I whisper. My fingers start to play with my already wet folds.

  “Nope. Today is my lucky day. I’ve just taken a sip from my Felix Felicis, baby.”

  I moan. He’s just as big of a geek as I am. When Harry Potter mixes with his seductive voice, all my hormones go up.

  “What are you doing?” I ask instead of answering.

  “Right now? I’m palming my dick, so it behaves.”

  I bite my lip to stop my smile. “Is it working?”

  “Nope. He likes you, or more likes your voice, a little too much.” He groans. “Ophelia, tell me what are you doing?”

  “I’m touching myself too,” I moan into the line.

  “Fuck. Are you wet?”

  “Yes. Yes, I’m so wet, Hendrix.”

  I hear shuffling noises from the other side of the line and wonder what he’s doing. “Talk to me,” I murmur.

  “Put me on speaker, baby. Get naked and spread your legs. Let me know when you’re ready.” His voice is a total aphrodisiac. Addicting. And when it’s full of lust it’s even more irresistible.

  I take off my panties and t-shirt at a lightning pace and lay back down on the bed with my legs spread.

  “Hendrix…” I whisper. My voice is urgent, needy, desperate. Knowing that I don’t know who is on the other side of the line makes this even sexier.

  “I want to see you,” he rasps to the line.

  I smile to myself and grab my phone. I want this stranger to see my body. I want him to see that I’m waiting for him to touch myself. I place my arm on my mound, strategically covering my one breast and my pussy. I snap a picture, but it’s not exactly the way I want it to be. So, turning to my side just a little, I take another photo. This time it comes out even better than I hoped. My hand is between my legs, the dip of my waist accentuates the flare of my hip, and the path follows to my breast, but my nipple is hidden. I’m only giving him a tease of what I have under my clothes.

  I hit send.

  I hear the ping of his phone and the sharp intake of breath.

  “Fuck, Ophelia. Fuck, my cock is literally weeping to be inside you right now.”

  “Tell me what you would do to me if you were here.”

  “I would tie your hands above your head. I’m angry at them for blocking my view,” he says.

  I laugh-moan at the image his words conjure up.

  “Then I would kiss your breath away. I would suck and bite your tits. I would leave a hickey on the side of that breast you teased me with. Would you like that? Would you like me to mark you?”

  “Yes,” I moan.

  “Suck your fingers, Ophelia. Suck your two fingers, lick them with your tongue. Make them wet for me,” he says, and I put my index and middle finger into my mouth before replacing them with my thumb.

  “Are they wet enough?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, play with your nipples, baby. Softly. Tease your nipples. Imagine it’s my tongue, circling them.”

  I do as he says. “Now, pull them, baby. Squeeze them between your fingers like I would suck them into my mouth.”

  I gasp at the sudden change in sensation. Closing my eyes, I imagine him, sucking and marking my breasts.

  “Hendrix,” I breathe out.

  “My dick is so hard for you, baby. All the sounds you make…” he trails off.

  “Now, move your hand down, Ophelia. Slowly. Touch your folds for me. Are they wet?”

  My breath shudders when I touch myself, “Soaking.”

  “I would lap it all off you if I were there right now,” he rasps.

  “It feels so good, Hendrix,” I moan.

  “Now spread your folds with your fingers, baby. Circle your clit.”

  My breathing becomes faster. My back slightly arches from the bed with his hard breaths in my ear and my hand between my legs.

  “Play with your nipples, too. I wouldn’t abandon them if I were there,” he says, and I reach for my nipple, twisting it between my fingers.

  “Hendrix, I… I…”

  “Take your hand away from your pussy, Ophelia.”

  “What? But-”

  “No buts. Take your hand away and listen to me.”

  I do as he says, but just as I’m about to protest his voice stops me.

  “You made me so hard, Ophelia. I’m already seeping out pre-cum for you.”

  “Are you fisting your cock?” I breathe out.

  “Yes. I’m fisting myself hard, baby. I’m sure you’d feel like a tight glove a
round me. I can imagine you under me. Hands tied, legs spread, back arched. Your lips would be parted with your moans; your eyes would be tightly closed with my every thrust.”

  I swallow. My heart is running a marathon. I’m panting. My bodies covered in sweat and my vaginal walls clench at his words and curses.

  “Hendrix… I… I need to touch myself,” I say. My words turn into a groan when I hear him grunt.

  “Are your walls clenching, baby? They would try to milk me if I was inside you right now,” he rasps, and I moan, squeezing my thighs together.

  “Hen, please,” I beg. I don’t know why I’m not touching myself and ending my misery, but I like where this is going too much to stop it.

  “Push two fingers inside your pussy, Ophelia.”

  He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I push two fingers inside me, and my back arches and I moan loudly.

  “Damn, add another one baby. Add one more finger inside you, thrust them hard like I would fuck you if I was there.”

  Pushing my fingers in and out of myself I forget everything but the pleasure. I’m thrashing, rocking back and forth on my hand to catch the release.

  “Rub your palm over your clit, Ophelia. Grind on your hand. I can hear the sounds your pussy makes,” he says. “Fuck, baby,” he groans, and I hear him grunt.

  “Hen, I’m coming. I’m coming.”

  “Come with me, baby. When I say now,” he tells me, and I bite my lip to stop my orgasm as I wait for him.

  “Now!” he orders, and I come with a cry as he chants my name over and over again into the line.

  When we catch our breaths, we both start to laugh.

  “I need to see you, Ophelia. Meet me tomorrow for coffee,” he says, and I stiffen.

  This thing is fun when everything is a mystery to us and I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to miss this excitement.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Hendrix,” I murmur.

  He stays silent for a while, but then he says, “Okay, whatever you want. I’ll try my luck next time.”

  I smile. “Who says there will be a next time?”

  “I’ll keep some of my Felix Felicis,” he says.