Oakley opened her mouth to protest, but he was already at the door.
He turned back to look at her, as if he wanted to say something else, then his gaze flicked to the coffee table where her phone sat. He put his back to her again. “G’night, Oakley. Don’t stay up too late.”
When the door closed, she sank back onto the couch, head in her hands. It would be so easy to call him back in. So. Easy. She could tell him about her secret job, unload that burden. She doubted Pike would care. It’s not like he wanted to date her. He wanted to sleep with her. Who cared what she did for a living?
He could be in her bed tonight and sneak out by morning before Reagan woke up.
But then what? Awkwardness and hurt feelings, probably. She’d learned early on that she sucked at casual. Maybe it was her conservative upbringing, but she had trouble separating out feelings from sex. She didn’t have a ton of experience, but when she let someone inside her body, it left a mark.
She didn’t need any more marks. Especially ones meted out by fly-by-night musicians who bedded women for sport.
Her life was complicated enough.
So what if her libido had decided to make an appearance after a long hiatus? That didn’t mean she had to appease it with the nearest willing heartbreaker. She didn’t need some guy to fix it.
Tomorrow, she’d take a trip to one of those stores with the suggestive names and tinted windows. She’d handle this herself.
But for now, she had other people’s libidos to satisfy.
Her phone was ringing before she shut her bedroom door.
“Hello, this is Sasha …”
EIGHT
By quarter to one, Oakley was running on fumes. She’d taken seven calls tonight and the last had been a guy who’d wanted her to humiliate him pretty much non-stop. She’d had to pull out all her reserves to find creative enough insults because he’d complained that other women he’d called only said things like “You’re such a naughty boy.” He needed more than that. He wanted to be verbally assaulted. That took energy.
She let her head sag onto her pillow, her headset like a weight pressing down on her brain, and waved the white flag. She’d planned to work until one but she didn’t have it in her tonight.
After yawning loudly, she sat up and reached for her laptop to sign out of her shift. But before she could hit the button, the phone rang.
“Son of a bitch.” Once a call was in her queue¸ she had to take it.
She clicked the Sign Out icon on her laptop so she wouldn’t get another call after this one and slammed her laptop shut, then she sank back onto the pillows and hit the button on her headset to answer the call.
“Hello, this is Sasha. Ready for a fantasy night?”
God, she hated that cheesy scripted intro the service required. It made her teeth grind.
The caller cleared his throat on the other end.
Great. A breather. “Hello?”
“I’m here.” The voice was quiet, still.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to put some effort into it. “Well, hi there, handsome. How you doing tonight?”
A few seconds passed, and she thought maybe the call had dropped, but then he spoke. “You sound sleepy. Are you in bed?”
“I am. All alone. How about you? You want some company?”
“I want you.”
The words were ones she’d heard a thousand times before, but for some reason these sent a bloom of heat through her. Her body prickled with awareness. Huh. Weird. “Well, I’m right here for whatever you want.”
“I just got what I wanted.”
She frowned. “And what’s that?”
“To hear your voice one more time tonight.”
Her eyelids blinked open. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name, have we already talked?”
The sound of sheets rustling filled the phone as he apparently shifted in bed. “Yes. And I’m still waiting for you to sing to me.”
Her heart jumped into her throat, time slowing around her and alarm bells blaring in her head. She grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand and flipped it over. A name she’d programmed into it only tonight showed on the screen.
Pike Ryland.
She hadn’t checked the phone before she’d hit the button on the headset. She’d been so tired she’d forgotten to look. Who the hell called after midnight? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Her hands trembled, adrenaline chasing her panic. “You must have the wrong number, sir.”
“You know I don’t,” he said, his voice slipping into his normal tone now that he knew she’d figured out who it was.
“I’m sorry, I have to—”
“Oakley, take a breath. It’s okay,” he said, his words gentle. “I’d already pretty much figured it out. It’s why I thought I could get away with calling you so late. I knew you’d be up.”
She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Pike, I—We—No one can know I—”
“Shh, hey, calm down. I told you tonight I’m not into telling other people’s secrets.”
“This is—No one knows this, Pike. No one can know.” She closed her eyes. “God, this is mortifying. You must think—”
“That it’s incredibly hot? That the woman who I thought probably said fudge instead of fuck actually has the ability to talk dirty enough to get paid for it? Yeah, that’s exactly what I think.”
She groaned, tapping the back of her head against her pillow. “Of course that’s what you’d think, isn’t it? Guys are so ready to buy into the fantasy. You probably think I’m dressed in a silk nightie and have come seven times for my seven callers tonight.”
He laughed. “Oh, no. We allow ourselves the illusion, but most of us know that we’re probably talking to a Chris Farley lookalike who’s watching infomercials on mute while she talks to us about how bad she wants us to give it to her.”
“Sounds like you have some experience.”
“Totally. Fourteen-year-old Pike was a big contributor to the Dial-A-Girl industry.”
“Oh, God. Don’t say that. I need to have my own illusions that the measures they have in place to keep kids from calling me actually work.”
“Sorry. You’d probably be able to tell. They’d just want to talk about feeling up your boobs.”
“Ha. Welcome to half my callers.”
“Really?”
“No. That’d be too easy. Most require more effort than that.”
He got quiet for a second. “So do you get into it? I mean, it’s got to feel kind of powerful knowing you’re turning someone on.”
She blew out a breath. “We’re so not going to talk about this.”
“Aw, come on. I want to know.”
“No, Pike. I do it for the cash. My position at Bluebonnet is great and I’m hoping for a promotion, but I could never afford Reagan’s schooling on a receptionist salary alone. I do this because it’s good money that I can earn from home. It doesn’t turn me on. If anything, it numbs me. Makes me immune to things most people would find sexy.”
“Well, that would explain how you’ve so easily resisted my undeniable charms. But sexually immune? No fucking way.”
“Believe what you want.”
He sniffed. “I saw how you looked at me in the restaurant, Oakley. That look did not come from a woman who’s numb.”
“That look is called shock. I thought I heard something I didn’t. And seriously, how do you and your ego fit in the same room?”
“We work it out. And that was more than shock. You wanted me.”
“Whatever.” Great. Now she was sounding like the kids she worked with.
“Close your eyes, Oakley.”
“What? Why?”
“Humor me.”
“We’re not going there, Pike. I was not issuing a challenge.”
“Come on, close them. What can it hurt? I’m all the way across town. You’re safe from me.”
Lie. Lie. Lie. She closed her eyes. She couldn’t help it.
“Are you still wearing what you were earli
er?” he asked.
“Oh my God. Seriously? The what are you wearing question? You could at least—”
“Tell me.”
“Ugh. The shirt but not the pants. Super hot.”
He made some sort of pleased sound on the other end. “Good. That’s exactly how I’m picturing you now.”
“Fantastic.”
“And though you didn’t ask, I’m wearing nothing. Just my sheets. I like the way they feel against my skin.”
She rolled onto her side and pressed her face into her pillow. Shit on a stick. Pike was naked. This was a stupid, stupid idea. She needed to hang up. She adjusted her headset. “You are making crap up right now. I know this game way better than you.”
“Don’t taunt me, mama. I’m not above sending you a dick pic.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Play nice then. Now, where were we?” he said, in a sleep-soft, sexy voice—all cool sheets and hot skin and long nights. “Right, you on your bed in just a thin T-shirt and panties. I bet you’ve taken your bra off, too.”
She had, but she wasn’t going to confirm it for him.
“Mmm, I can imagine that shirt is pretty see-through with nothing else beneath it. I wish I was there to brush my fingers over the front of your shirt, see your nipples rise against the cotton so I could put my mouth on them.”
“Are you charging me by the minute?” She kept her voice even, but her hand had drifted to her breast. She drew her fingertips over her nipple, casually at first, then with more purpose, sending a hot bolt of sensation down through her belly. Her toes curled.
God, what was she doing? She went through this scenario all the time with callers and never once had the urge to actually participate.
“First call’s free.” She heard the glide of sheets again. “Especially since I’m going to enjoy this, too.”
She clamped her lips together. She would not ask him if he was touching himself. Would. Not. Ask. And she would not picture what he might look like laid out naked, thighs spread, cock in hand.
She shuddered and the spot between her thighs pulsed with awareness. “I’m going to hang up now.”
“Don’t. You don’t have to pretend to hate this. I told you I’m honest. Do me that courtesy, too. This is a no-risk proposition. We don’t even have to talk about it face to face. Work is work. Fine. This—this is just a no-pressure, late-night anonymous phone call. Give yourself a break, mama. Indulge a little.”
She let out a long breath, the weight of her limbs pressing into the bed. It’d been so long since her body had tingled and ached, so long since she’d fantasized about a man. The offer was so damn tempting.
“I’m hard for you, Oakley.”
Well, hell. That fucking did it. How was she supposed to stay cool after that? Hard. It was such a filthy word when he said it. She licked her lips, tried to find her voice. “Is that right?”
“Have been since you answered the phone. Your voice does it for me. I keep hearing your song in my head and picturing you in nothing but a T-shirt. If I were there, I’d peel it off of you and tie your hands with it so I could taste your skin and feel you against my tongue, watch your green eyes go black with want.”
She let out a soft, needy gasp. One he had to have heard. But she couldn’t help herself. Those sinful lips of his running over her body, tasting her? The image was too decadent to block.
“Still with me, Oakley?”
“I’m here.” It was all she could manage to say without totally giving herself away.
“Are you wet for me?” he asked, shameless and bold. “Because I’m leaking for you. You should see how slippery the head of my cock is getting just thinking about you.”
God bless America. A rumble of need moved through her like a possessed freight train, gears that had long gone rusty coming to life and spinning too fast. She could see him there, fist around himself, thumb rubbing the fluid over the tip, making his erection glossy and flushed. Could imagine being there with him, lowering her head and swiping her tongue across that little slit. She could almost taste the salt of him. “This is such a bad idea.”
“My favorite kind. What are you thinking about, baby?” he asked, voice gruff. “Don’t censor, and I won’t either.”
She swallowed past the tangle of protests in her throat. She could do this. Hell, she did this every night. She’d just never said the words and really meant them before. “I was imagining what you’d taste like.”
He groaned, and that gave her a strange thrill of satisfaction. She was getting to him, too. “Answer my other question. I want to know.”
She knew the answer but let her hand slide down her belly anyway. Her fingers dipped beneath the band of her panties and found the slickness waiting there. She stroked a finger over her clit, the simple touch making her thighs clench. “Yes. I’m wet.”
“Fuck,” he said in a strangled whisper. “You’re touching yourself, aren’t you? I can fucking hear it in your voice. God, you’re driving me crazy. Hold on.”
Something squeaked on his end of the line. “What are you doing?”
“Grabbing lube out of my drawer,” he said bluntly. “I want to imagine how sexy and slick you’d feel around me.”
“How very prepared of you,” she teased, her words getting looser the more she stroked herself. “Were you a Boy Scout?”
“Not in this lifetime or the last, mama, but I’m always prepared to get off.” Mattress springs creaked as he got settled again. “Ah, fuck, yes. That’s better.”
“Tell me what you’re doing,” she said, reaching down to slide her panties off and to turn off the bedside lamp. Darkness enveloped her, keeping her safe, secret. This wasn’t really happening if it was in the dark.
“I’m on top of my sheets and have my hand tight around my cock, rubbing slow and teasing myself, losing myself in your voice and imagining what you’re doing right now. Help me fill in the picture.”
“I’m in the dark and have a headset on so my hands are free. I’ve taken my panties off and am touching myself.”
“No,” he said, gravel in his voice. “Use the words for me. I know you’re not that polite on your calls. You don’t have to pretend with me.”
She inhaled a long breath, trying to find the courage. She said filthy things to men every night, but they were just words to strangers she’d never have to face. That was Sasha. She’d never gone there as Oakley. This felt altogether different—vulnerable. She’d have to see this man again, have to own this part of herself in front of him. She released the breath. Jumped off the cliff. “I’m pushing my fingers inside myself and rubbing my clit. Everything feels tight and achy, like I could come at any second. My pussy is clenching around my fingers just from me thinking about what you’d feel like inside of me.”
“Fuck, yes, baby. You’re perfect. And don’t deny yourself. Get a toy and give yourself more than your fingers.”
Her back arched, the pleasure building fast. It’d been so long since she’d done anything but snag a cursory orgasm in the shower. “I don’t have any toys.”
“What? I thought all women had a stash.”
“Not numb ones.”
“You’re not numb, baby.” She could hear his slick hand moving steadily on his end of the line. It was a familiar noise, but it’d never sounded so damn lewd and sexy. “Feel how hot and slippery you are against your hand. Feel it all. How awake and alive you are. How much you want this.”
She moaned, unable to stop the sounds now.
“If I were there, I’d fill you up. Give you more.”
Her fingers were pumping, pumping, pumping now but instead of the empty darkness of her bedroom, she saw Pike looming above her, his cock pumping into her, those inked arms sweating and flexing as he drove her into the bed.
“Oh, God.” Choppy, choked sounds spilled out of her—so different from the practiced, porny noises she made for calls. Raw. Real. She’d forgotten what that sounded like.
“Yes,” Pike said, his voi
ce broken with sharp breaths. “Take it. Feel me there with you. Come for me, mama.”
The command was unnecessary because she was already tipping over, her hips lifting off the bed and her free hand grabbing her breast with a too-rough touch. She cried out, turning into her pillow to muffle the sound. Light exploding in the darkness.
Grinding, erotic noises filtered through the phone—unh, unh, unh—as Pike fucked his fist. Oakley only sailed higher. And when Pike cried out, she saw it all in her mind. His head tipped back in ecstasy, his cock pulsing in his hand, fluid painting streaks across his chest. She’d never wanted to transport herself somewhere else so desperately.
But, of course, she wasn’t there. And he wasn’t here. When they both panted their way down from their orgasms, chilly reality settled in around her like a wet blanket.
She was alone. And she’d just exposed more than one secret to a man she’d promised to keep at arm’s length.
Pike let out a long breath on his end. “Wow, that was …”
“Something we can’t do again.”
“What?”
She closed her eyes, tried to slow her heartbeat. “I expect you to honor your promise and not bring this or my night job up ever. When I see you again, we won’t talk about this.”
“I’ll keep my promise, but Oak—”
“Good night, Pike.”
She yanked off her headset, her blood still rushing through her ears and her body having aftershocks, and threw the damn thing against the wall.
Stupid, stupid Oakley.
NINE
Oakley stared at the collection of personal massagers in the Wicked boutique, already overwhelmed by all the choices and the prices. How could they possibly be this expensive? She’d had a makeshift vibrator once before, but it’d been a simple massage thing she’d bought at the drugstore. One that she could pass off as a non-sexual device. Back then, she’d been young and convinced everyone was staring at her while she made the purchase. Now she honestly didn’t care. But how the hell was she supposed to know which one to pick? It’s not like she could return it after trying it out if it was no good. And after the other night with Pike, she definitely needed one. Pent-up lust made her do idiotic things. She wouldn’t allow herself to be that desperate again.