“Okay.” He considered the question for a moment. “I’m a nutcase about my dog—like two steps away from buying him outfits and carrying him around in my bag.”
She laughed. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Crazy about him.”
“What else?”
“Hmm, let’s see. Horror movies scare the shit out of me. If I watch one, I can’t sleep for days.”
“Really? I love scary movies. What about things like Scream where it’s kind of funny, too?”
“That one has a guy in a mask. Fuck that.”
She laughed. “Are you trying to be adorable? Because you’re being kind of adorable right now.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ. Adorable is definitely not what I’m going for.” He let out a beleaguered sigh. “You’ve completely lost your erection haven’t you?”
She smiled into the darkness. “Quite the opposite actually.”
“Is that right? Well, then adorable is exactly what I’m going for,” he said, that deep voice all playful and sexy. “I also like bunnies and romantic comedies starring Meg Ryan.”
“God, I’m getting so hot now.”
“Oh, no you don’t. No Sasha for me. Only the real Oakley.”
She shifted under the covers. “It’s not entirely a lie. Some crazy man sent me instructions all night. I’ve been tortured with hot baths and silky clothes and sex toys on ice.”
“Mmm, this guy sounds exceptionally crafty and smart. Tell me more about this silk.”
She let her fingers play along the edge of her camisole. “I’m in bed in a purple cami top with lace edges and a matching pair of bikini underwear. How about you?”
“In bed, just a pair of boxers. The lights are off and Monty is snoring in his bed in the corner.”
“Did you think about me tonight?”
“Every damn moment,” he said on an exhalation. “My friends came over to watch the game and shoot the shit and all I could think about was what you might be doing. If you were doing it.”
“I did. Every step.”
“Why?”
She watched the blades of her fan go round and round, her heart a steady beat in her ears. “I don’t know. Why’d you set up the messages?”
“Because you said you needed what we did the other night. I know I can’t be the kind of guy you’re looking for. But I can give you this. I want to give you this.”
“What’s in it for you?”
“You are.”
Her breath stalled. “I can’t give you much, Pike.”
“All I’m asking for is your trust. Trust me to give you this kind of escape. I’m not asking for more than that.”
“Pike …”
“Take off your panties for me, Oakley. It’s time for your next instructions.”
Her body went from hum to full buzz, the quiet command in his voice like a physical touch.
“You want to stop, you tell me so. No is all it takes with me.”
She stayed quiet.
“Lose the panties and spread your legs, mama. Time to try out my gift.”
She bit the inside of her cheek and grabbed her headset from the bedside table to switch to that then shoved off the sheets and tugged off her underwear. In the black quiet of her bedroom, she lay back and let her legs fall open. Cool air moved over her exposed skin. “Okay.”
“You did it?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl,” he said, a caress in his tone instead of the patronizing one that usually accompanied those words. “Tell me, Oakley. Are you natural down there? Smooth? What would I feel if it were my fingers rubbing your pussy right now?”
The words sent a hot shiver from the crown of her head down to her toes. She swiped her tongue along her lower lip. “Trimmed.”
A pleased sound rumbled through the phone. “Gorgeous. I’m there with you now, baby, inhaling your scent and feeling how aroused you are against my fingers. You feel me?”
She let her fingers slide along her flesh. “I feel you, Pike, can imagine you inside me.”
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Get rid of your top and then take that glass dildo off the ice. Bring it with you to the bed.”
Her blood pumped harder. She wanted to keep stroking herself, already a hundred times closer to release than she had been when she’d tried on her own the first time. But she also wanted this game, wanted to obey him. She rolled out of bed to tug off her cami and grab the toy out of the now melted ice. The water was still freezing cold though and the minute she had the glass in her hand, goose bumps broke out on her skin. She heard movement on his end of the phone.
She lay back down on the bed. “I’ve got it.”
“Hold it above you and let the water drip onto your nipples,” he said, his voice like warm, stroking hands against her.
She hesitated for a breath. Tomorrow she’d probably regret this. But right now, her hormones were overtaking her logic, her nipples going hard and achy at the thought of the stimulation. She lifted the glass above her and fat, freezing droplets splashed onto her chest. She arched and her breath caught. “God.”
“Feels almost painful against your hot skin, doesn’t it?” he asked, grit in his voice. “I grabbed an ice cube from my water glass and am doing the same thing.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, imagining him there, dragging ice across his chest, those tan, flat nipples glistening. If she were with him, she’d chase the drops with her tongue, lap at his skin, nibble at that muscular torso of his.
“You know what’s next, baby. I want that smooth cock inside you.”
She groaned. “It’s freezing cold.”
“That’s the idea. Spread your legs and push it in slow. I want to hear you, want to picture how sexy you look sliding it in.”
Oakley was burning with a steady heat now, but not from shame or embarrassment. Those emotions had exited the building a long time ago with her good sense in tow. No, this was pure anticipation and arousal. She brought the toy down between her spread thighs and touched it to her clit. She gasped at the bitter cold.
But it wasn’t painful. Just shocking, sending all of her senses on high alert. She dragged the head of it lower and found her entrance. The contrast of heat to cold made her muscles clench. “It’s going to burn.”
“Take it for me, mama. Heat it up inside you. Let it make you feel good.”
After forcing herself to breathe and relax, she pushed the toy into her cleft, the slickness of her arousal easing the way. She cried out at the icy invasion.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she panted, all the while easing it deeper, her nerve endings lighting up and sending sensation radiating through her body.
Pike groaned. “That voice of yours is going to kill me. You’re driving me crazy.”
Her body stretched and protested. It’d been years since she’d had anything bigger than her fingers inside herself. She’d had yet to try out the dildo she’d bought. But God, the cold lit her on fire in the best way possible. Everything coiled, alive and awake, her nipples straining and her thigh muscles tensing.
“Tell me how it feels,” Pike said, his words strained enough to let her know he was touching himself as well.
She breathed through the initial wave of sensation, pumping the smooth glass inside her. “It’s waking everything up. It feels … damn. Painfully good.”
“Stroke your clit, baby. Take everything you need to make it feel good.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. “Tell me what you’re doing.”
“The ice is melting on my chest, making a mess, and I’ve got my fist around my dick with my other hand stroking my balls.”
“You like them played with?” she asked, her words choppy as she brought herself right to the edge of orgasm and held there.
“I do. I like it kind of rough. Squeezing, tugging, dragging your nails over them. When you suck me off, feel free to explore. Nothing’s off limits.”
She smiled even as her head tilted back, release hovering. “So sure I’m go
ing to have your cock in my mouth one day, huh?”
“A boy can dream.”
Pleasure was making her near delirious. She focused on the images he was painting. Him cupping and tugging his balls as he jerked off. Thighs spread. All that maleness on display. “Do you really own plugs for yourself?”
It was a question she wouldn’t have had the guts to ask a few minutes before, but her filter had disintegrated into a pile of ash.
He grunted. “Freak you out?”
“I think it’s hot.”
And she wasn’t lying. A straight guy who had made no apologies about indulging in that kind of pleasure? There was something unbelievably sexy about that.
“What does it feel like?” she asked.
“Mmm, never tried it yourself?”
“No.”
“You’re missing out, mama. Hard to describe. Want me to grab mine?”
She bit her lip, her hand still working the toy. “Only if you want to.”
“One sec. Keep doing what you’re doing.” There was the drag of a drawer on his end then he was back. “Haven’t done this in a while, but I like that the thought is making you hot. I like this dirty side of you.”
Her hips undulated forward, the pleasure building and building inside her. “Tell me what you’re doing.”
“I’ve lubed up the plug and now I’m stroking my cock while I work the plug in with my other hand.”
Her eyelids squeezed tight. The vision of Pike penetrating himself with something was making her inner muscles clench and sending desperate need rolling through her. Never before had she considered that something like that would do it for her. But Christ the image was hurtling her toward release.
Pike let out a low groan. “Fuck, that feels good.”
Oakley pressed against her clit, trying to hold off her orgasm as long as she could. “Tell me.”
“The plug’s inside and vibrating. It’s making everything feel full and tight, and every stroke I give my cock feels more intense. I want to come, but I’m stroking slow, teasing myself, thinking of you here, your fingers on the plug, my cock in your mouth. The scent of you in the air.”
“God,” she whispered.
“Maybe I’ll try this on you sometime. Fuck you while you have a toy in your ass, my fingers stroking your clit. You’d feel so filled up, baby.”
She moaned, the image almost too much. “I’m close.”
“Take it, baby. I want you fucking yourself good and deep. Let me hear you come around that hard, cold cock.”
She lost it then, the dildo buried deep and her fingers working. She cried out freely, no one home to hear. “Pike!”
“Fuck, yes.” Pike’s grunts filled the phone line, and she could hear the slick pace of his fist even as she gasped her way through her orgasm—light breaking behind her eyes. Pike came with a shout and a string of curses. But before he finished, she heard her name on his lips. Over and over again.
Oakley, Oakley, Oakley.
Not Sasha. Not baby. Not some filthy name. Oakley.
It’d been a long time since she’d heard her own name said in the heat of passion like that. She liked it. More than she probably should.
She pulled the toy from her body and collapsed back into her pile of pillows in a panting heap. After they’d both been quiet for a few moments, listening to the pounding of her heart in her ears, she found her voice again. “Wow, maybe I should be paying you.”
The chuckle on the other end was sated and sleepy. “The feeling’s mutual. Plus, don’t bother. You couldn’t afford me.”
She smiled as she set the toy aside and pulled the sheets over her body—the cruise down from the orgasm letting reality slide in. Awkwardness would soon follow. Then regret if she didn’t hurry this along. “Well, I guess we better get some sleep.”
“No, don’t hang up yet.”
“Why?”
Sheets rustled. “Because if I was there, I would never let you sleep alone after that. I’d be curled around you, taking up all the room in the bed and stealing the covers.”
“Pike.”
“Shh, we don’t have to talk. Just picture me there with you. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“But—”
“Sweet dreams, mama. Get some rest.”
She waited for the dial tone but none came. She heard a few quiet movements, maybe him cleaning up. But then the bed squeaked again and a few minutes later, steady breathing.
She listened to him for as long as she could, falling into the soothing pattern of his breath. But soon her own lids were drooping. She pulled her headset off, left her phone on speaker, and closed her eyes.
When she woke up the next morning, her phone was dead. But neither of them had hung up.
The man on the phone had stayed the night.
No one had ever stayed the night.
FOURTEEN
Oakley walked into the main office at the Bridgerton Academy, hair dripping and the bottom of her pants soaked. Her shoes squeaked on the floor as she made her way to the desk.
Mrs. Daley, the secretary, lifted her head and got to her feet when she saw Oakley’s state. “Oh, you poor thing. Let me take your jacket.” She grabbed Oakley’s windbreaker and now-useless umbrella and hung them on a peg by the door. “Do you want me to grab you a school sweatshirt or something? You must be freezing.”
Oakley waved her off. “Thank you, but I’ll be okay. The umbrella flipped inside out halfway across the parking lot.”
Mrs. Daley frowned at the scene on the other side of the glass doors. “Another half hour of this and the street is going to flood.”
Oakley lifted her leg and pointed at her black slacks. “Already about three inches deep in the lot.”
“I’m so sorry we had to call you out in this. But—”
“It’s fine,” Oakley said quickly. “I want y’all to call me when she gets like this. I can deal with the weather.”
To get to her kid, she’d take a damn canoe here if she had to.
Mrs. Daley nodded. “I understand. She’s in Mr. Craig’s office. She’s settled down a lot since the lights came back on.”
Oakley thanked her and headed toward the back where the offices were. Sure enough, when she entered the school counselor’s office, she found Reagan curled into a chair, headphones on and eyes closed. Her small fingers were interlocked and flexing, the only outward sign that she wasn’t as peaceful as she might appear.
Mr. Craig looked up with a sympathetic smile. “She wasn’t up to talking, but she’s done a good job calming herself down in the last half hour or so. The music does help.”
Oakley nodded. “Thank you for letting her take a break in here.”
“My door’s always open for her. It was an unsettling day for all the kids with the lights flickering and the tornado siren going off.”
She appreciated his attempt to make her feel better, the sentiment being that if the typical kids had been affected, Reagan wasn’t all that different. But Oakley knew that the level of anxiety was not near the same. With Reagan’s sensory issues, alarms and sirens hurt her ears in a physical way. And ever since Rae had seen a documentary about a destructive tornado in Oklahoma years ago, she’d held a deep-seated phobia of bad weather.
Oakley crouched down in front of the chair and touched Reagan’s knee. Reagan jumped and opened her eyes. Relief filled her reddened eyes. “Mom.”
“Hey, baby.”
Reagan hit Pause on her iPod but didn’t take off the headphones. “Is it still raining?”
“It is, but the worst is past us. No more sirens. Just a lot of rain.”
She chewed her lip. “There’s a front coming through. More storms could pop up. I heard the weatherman say that last night.”
“That part’s done. I promise.” She gave her knee a little squeeze. “Classes are almost over for the day. I thought I’d bring you to Bluebonnet instead of riding the bus today. How’s that sound?”
She glanced toward Mr. Craig then back t
o Oakley. Oakley could tell Reagan was having that debate between two things that stressed her out—facing the rain, which would mean breaking her routine, or being left here to ride in the storm on the bus alone.
“I’ll go with you.”
Oakley nodded. “Okay, baby. Let’s get your bag and head out. I know the kids at Bluebonnet will be ready to start working on the new song once school lets out. You can get a jump start.”
Oakley helped her gather her things, but Reagan wasn’t giving up the headphones. She wanted them just in case any sirens went off while they were driving. And when they left the offices, Reagan made Oakley walk to the other side of the school to exit through the doors she’d normally leave out of to get to the bus. On a different day, Oakley may have urged her daughter to try to go against the routine, to go out a different door. But Rae was so on edge already, it was worth traipsing a few more yards through the flooded parking lot to avoid the added stress or possible meltdown. She’d learned to choose her battles.
Luckily, besides the rumbling thunder, the drive to Bluebonnet was quiet. Reagan listened to her music and kept her eyes closed. Oakley prepared herself for a trying evening. Once Reagan had a bad episode, the rest of the day was usually a loss, leaving her emotional and edgy. The only Reset button was a low-key evening and a good night’s sleep. But they wouldn’t get to that part until after rehearsals at Bluebonnet with Pike.
Pike.
Oakley rolled her shoulders to try to loosen some of the tension. She hadn’t talked to Pike much over the last few days. He’d been busy and any exchanges had been texts about the project. But he’d promised to be there this afternoon to help get one of the original songs the kids had chosen in shape.
The kids would be excited, but nerves had her gripping the steering wheel harder as she got closer to the center. Her and Pike’s last night on the phone had been more than a silly fantasy thing like the first time. Way too intimate and personal. They’d slept together over the phone. How was she supposed to face him after that?
She didn’t have any extra time to prepare for it, though. Because when she walked into the music room, Pike was already there. Bradley, their aspiring drummer, was sitting in front of the drum kit, and Pike was instructing him on how to loosen his arms so he could move from snare to cymbal more quickly. Bradley, normally Mr. Tough Guy, looked ready to pee his pants. Guess she wasn’t the only one nervous around Pike.