Heart Signs (7 page)

“So I’m making you get drunk.”

“No, no, of course not. It’s my choice.”

“Well, this is mine.” His exhalation rushed over the line and her stomach knotted.

Oh God.
He was going to tell her to get lost. That she’d been privy to enough of his soul, thank you very much, and it was time for her to go back to her ordinary, boring, flat world. The one without such devastating lows but no highs either.

She didn’t know what she’d said, but it must’ve been a doozy.

“I’m not really sure how to do this. It’s awkward and weird but after seeing you yesterday, after what happened here and then this afternoon when you came by my shop, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Or you. And I’m not stupid enough to think I can go for the real deal yet, but maybe this would work. If you’re into it. Are you?”

She frowned, probably hard enough to permanently weld lines into her face. He was great at communicating so the reason she had no clue what he was saying probably had to do with her. It was the wine. Or maybe she just wasn’t deep enough for a guy like him. Water seeking its own level and all that.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure what you’re asking me,” she said, replaying what he’d said just the same.

All at once she got it. Sort of.

Was she into it? Hell yeah. She was into pretty much anything when it came to him, as scary as that was to realize.

A smile bloomed across her face just before he blurted, “Have you ever had phone sex?”

N
ow he’d done it
. She’d likely peg him as a weirdo, some guy who wrote pedantic love letters and passed them out to unsuspecting females to try to get their panties off. Something he’d failed at miserably when he’d had his chance.

Yeah, she’d been fine with the idea of sex yesterday but that hadn’t been via phone. And he hadn’t exactly hit that ball out of the park either.

He wasn’t a good bet for any sort of sex, in person or otherwise. But he wanted her and he wasn’t about to sit here and pretend he didn’t. Not with a hard-on she’d created just from the sexy slurred tone of her voice and memories of her slick sex squeezing his fingers as she came and came.

“No to phone sex. I’ve sexted before though. Given the occasional boob flash over Skype.”

Sam looked longingly at his ancient computer. “I don’t have a webcam.”

“Too bad.” She sounded genuinely disappointed, enough that he laughed. “You could always just, you know, come over. I don’t live too far. And my kitty won’t do anything but purr around you.”

His mind shot straight into the gutter, probably because he knew
her
kitty had definitely responded positively to his touch the day before.

“You’re thinking something dirty, aren’t you?” she asked as the silence lengthened.

“Busted.”

“So share. It’s no fair to keep perverted thoughts all to yourself.”

Her voice had already dropped, turning warm and silky like rich hot chocolate. His cock twitched, but he felt asinine reaching for his zipper this soon.
Get it together.
He sat on his free hand and clasped the phone tighter with his other. “I was thinking about your kitty. Yours personally. Not like a cat or anything.”

“Oh, good.” She giggled and he heard a rustling sound as if she’d dropped the phone. “I like kinky but that’s a bit too strange even for me.”

The perfect opening.
Thank you, God.
“What kind of kinky do you like?”

He figured his voice probably sounded scratchy and overeager. Extreme horniness, sensual deprivation and nerves tended to do that to a person. But she didn’t laugh. Instead she made a long humming noise as if she were carefully considering his question.

“Honestly, the only thing I don’t like that I’ve tried so far is spanking.”

“Spanking?” he echoed, the hand under his leg flexing with the urge to move. The image of her taut ass nice and pink popped into his mind, but he quickly banished it. He wasn’t a spanker. Christ, at this point he probably wasn’t anything but a guy who’d shoot off in seconds from a round of ordinary missionary.

“Yeah. I know it’s supposed to be arousing after a while. As your ass heats up, so does your pussy. Well, that’s the theory. All that happened with me was I got a sore ass.” She sighed. “So if that’s your kink, sorry, I may not be the right partner for you.” Then she let out another wine-induced giggle. “Though I could probably manage to act suitably excited over the phone if you wanted me to.”

He was still stuck on her usage of the word
pussy
as if it were normal conversational language. Dani had always jokingly called hers “her lady parts” and he’d never dated any other women who spoke so frankly.

“Are you more shy without wine?” he asked, already on the verge of a smile. She had that effect on him.

“Um, remember yesterday?”

His hand twitched again. Shit, yeah, he remembered yesterday. How they’d barely kissed before she’d dropped to her knees and started to suck him off. His balls tightened as he imagined her lips encircling his shaft, her small pink tongue fluttering against the slit to soak up his arousal.

This was one hell of a sexy fucking woman. Maybe over the phone he could try the smooth guy act he obviously couldn’t pull off in person.

Phone sex was sounding better and better.

Besides, it was like riding a bicycle, right? If he took his time pedaling down the street, soon he’d be mastering the corners like a whiz again. He just couldn’t rush it.

“Yeah,” he managed. “I do.”

“So how do we do this? Start touching ourselves and see who moans first?”

Caught between laugher and a groan, he glanced down at the faint brush of claws on his calf. Huge, innocent gold eyes peered up at him. Looked as if Junior had awakened early from his nap.

“Um, hang on just a second,” he said, scooping up the cottony ball of fur. Junior began insta-purring and Sam grinned as he attempted to juggle the wriggly cat and the phone.

“You okay over there? Zipper stuck? You should wear shorts like me. No underwear and just a little wiggle and—oh! Is that purring?”

Sam’s grin widened as the cat scampered up to his shoulder and burrowed into the spot next to his neck. “Sure is. Junior’s feeling frisky.”

“He’s not the only one,” she muttered. “Sure you don’t want me to come over? We could avoid the phone awkwardness.”

“And swap it out for in-person awkwardness? No thanks. Just gimme a sec. Junior just woke up and needed some love.”

“Well, let him sit there or whatever. He doesn’t know what’s going on, right?”

“I don’t want him near me while I… Well, I just don’t.” Before her laughter turned to gentle and likely effective persuasion, Sam rose and laid Junior on the small blue circular bed he’d placed near the living room sofa. The kitty immediately yawned and curled up to go to sleep.

Must be nice.

Sam returned to the couch and stretched out his legs, making sure the kitten had its eyes firmly shut before he rubbed his hand over his flagging erection. A couple slides of his hand and boom, all thrusters operational. “Okay. I’m good.”

“Are you?” Her sly question traveled a one-way route straight into his cock. “I took your advice and nudged Snowy—
my
cat—to the end of the bed and she got offended and took off. So now we’re alone and I have my hand on my belly. Just above the waistband of my shorts.”

He could picture her lying in the semidarkness, her inky hair stark against her pillow, her long lashes dusting her cheeks. Those perfect bow lips caught in a knowing half-smile. Her narrow, tapered fingers resting lightly on her stomach, daring him to ask her to reveal a little more skin, maybe even that inward slash of bellybutton. Or was she an outie? He hadn’t seen that much of her to know.

“What kind of bellybutton do you have?”

Her husky laughter rolled over the phone line. “An inny. It’s tiny. Barely big enough for the tip of a finger or a tongue.”

Now that provided a visual. “Do you like that? When a guy licks your navel?”

“Mmm-hmm. As long as he doesn’t stop there.”

“God, Rory.” He shook his head. “How was it I didn’t realize you were a woman for two whole years?”

“Well, we didn’t exchange innuendoes via work emails. And you weren’t really in the place for that. If you are now,” she added quietly, the playfulness in her tone retreating.

“I don’t know what I’m in the place for, honestly. I just know I like talking to you.”

“On the phone.”

“In person too.”

“Uh huh. But you like imagining me naked so you can fantasize about what I’m doing. Gives you more control?”

That she made it a question rather than a statement of fact alleviated the feeling that he was being psychoanalyzed. Mostly.

“You’re a fantasy at all times, believe me.” His massive hard-on proved that quite well.

“So maybe it’s time you slip your hand in your pants and tell me what you’d think about if I wasn’t on the phone. If the lights were off and you weren’t stressed about your apartment or pleasing me. You’re in charge. Running the show.”

Man, she had a bead on him, didn’t she? Especially the part about letting him be the aggressor. He hadn’t realized yesterday that he needed that, even if he hadn’t quite been ready to go for it full throttle.

Who needed a psychiatrist when Rory Fowler was around?

“You’re still dressed,” he said. “What are you wearing?”

“An old 76ers jersey and sleep shorts. They’re terrycloth but they’re so worn the fabric’s almost see-through in spots. You?”

His brain hadn’t yet moved on from see-through shorts. He glanced down at his baggy jeans and gray shop T-shirt. “Jeans and a shirt. Underwear?”

“Oooh yeah, answer that.”

Sam laughed. “Standard navy briefs.”

“Like you were wearing yesterday.”

“Yep.” He cleared his throat as an image of her slick mouth working his shaft again infiltrated his mind. “What about you?”

“No panties. I don’t wear them to bed.”

“Do you…ahh, dress that way when you have a lover too or just when you’re single?”

She
was
single, right? She wouldn’t have responded the way she had if she were seeing someone. He hoped. It had been so long since he’d been a part of the dating scene that maybe anything went now.

“It depends. I don’t usually have lovers stay over. But when I do, if they’re new, I have a couple little baby doll nighties I wear. You know, the kind that are more lace than fabric.”

“What colors?”

“One’s peach, one’s purple. Light peach, so that my nipples show through.”

“Oh.” Shit, shit, shit, he had to touch himself. He’d gone as rigid as an iron brand and if he didn’t get some relief soon…

“The purple’s dark. Can’t see anything through there except skin.” She let out a breath just as he closed his hand around his cock through his jeans. He couldn’t stop the groan. “Are you…”

“Yes. I had to.”

Her audible swallow went a long way to settling his nerves. “Are you hard?”

“Yes. Have been since I heard your voice. And now imagining you wearing peach lace, I’m like a damn baseball bat.”

“You’re close to that long. Not quite as wide at the fullest point.”

He had to laugh. “Join me, why don’t you? Slide down your shorts and tell me how you feel.” His hand flexed. “In detail.”

“I can do that.” For a long moment silence filled the line. Then she made that soft sound deep in her throat and his cock jumped. “Everything’s wet. My panties, my curls, my fingers when I move them in and out. And my clit’s swollen, though I don’t really know why. We’ve just been talking. Could be your voice is an aphrodisiac.”

“Yours too,” he muttered, gripping his erection. But somehow the sight of his own fingers around his length cooled his jets a little, a visual reminder of what he was about to do. What he had to do to get off, since he wasn’t the man he’d once been.

Not yet. Maybe in time he’d find his way back.

In the meantime, he’d just turn off the light.

She spoke just as he settled back against the cushions in his now darkened room. “So if I were there and on the floor in front of you again, what would you do? Tell me.”

Her whispered question triggered a hot rush of pleasure. He squeezed his forefinger and thumb around the base of his hard-on and relaxed his spine, determined to make this last. Tonight he intended to give her a great orgasm. Yesterday’s had been good, but he was greedy. He wanted to make her come apart at the seams. Completely and totally lose her mind.

“I’d tell you to spread your legs first,” he murmured, wondering if his voice sounded rusty to her too. “So I could see the pink, wet flesh between your legs while you sucked on me. The light would have to be bright enough that I could watch your inner thighs start to glisten. Knowing all that would be waiting for me when you finished. Then I’d sip from you, circling my way into the center of your creamy Tootsie Pop.”

He expected her to laugh. Tootsie Pops and oral? Really? He’d heard something like that in a rap song they’d played at the shop.

Jerk
.

She’d probably grade him minus ten for creativity. But the line remained silent except for her jagged breaths.

“Then what?”

Sam swallowed over the dryness in his throat. Shit, was she getting turned-on? Her voice sounded thin and thready, as if all the energy in her body was already pooling in the place where she had her fingers. “Do you like it harder or softer?”

Now she laughed. “You’re supposed to be controlling the scene,” she chided playfully. “I’ve given you carte blanche to boss me around and do whatever you want to me. Or you can make me do whatever you want me to do to you. Like suck your cock so deep that it reaches way, way down, making my muscles ripple with the effort not to gag. But even that feels good. You can feel my throat locking around you and your balls are getting tighter, aren’t they? I bet you wish I could get down between your legs and suck them too. Just take them in my mouth, roll them around and—oh shit!”

“What?” He jerked up on the sofa, his hand falling away from his damn near throbbing shaft. Thank God he’d turned off the lights. Bad enough to react like a kid caught masturbating, but at least he couldn’t
see
himself act like a dumbass. “What’s wrong? Rory?”

“I almost came. Like…so close.” Her muffled giggle teased out his own smile. “I sort of got into it and then I realized I’d almost ruined our fun.”

“So you stopped.”

“Not entirely.” Her tone turned sly. “I’ve still got the tip of my finger in. Keeping the home fires burning, you know?”

“Yes. I know. Since my home fires are about to scald my hand if I don’t stop thinking about you fingering yourself. God.” He hissed out a breath and let his head fall back against the sofa. “You’re so damn tight. And when you get close, everything sort of seizes up, holds my fingers inside…”

“Yes. Your fingers are inside me, moving slowly. In and out. Making me so wet.”

That same breathy quality returned to her voice, letting him know she’d likely begun using more than just the tip of her finger. He fought not to groan. “You like to be touched slowly?”