Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
But I can’t deny that I’ve saved each voice message and replay them endlessly on loop. It’s the stuff dreams are made of. Breathy and innocent. Every time I hear it, I imagine what she would sound like beneath me.
Against my better judgment, I press accept on the call. Maybe I’m tired of this game of cat and mouse. Maybe I want to hear her voice in real time. I want to know if it’s actually as arousing as I think it is.
“Hello,” I growl out the word and wait. I’m rewarded with the sound of a voice that’s far more musical than her messages.
“I reached you,” she exclaims.
“So, you did,” I grunt and squirm in the seat of my truck, trying desperately to ignore the semi that I’m starting to sport. She shouldn’t be able to do this to me with the sound of her voice, but it feels like a physical caress.
“I’m calling about an urgent matter.” Her voice is so prim, reminding me of a schoolteacher or sexy librarian. Shit, that thought goes straight to my cock, and I lose the battle with the semi. Now, it’s a raging hard-on.
“Feel free to share all your urges with me.” I can’t resist teasing her. Some part of me feels like I was made to tease her, to annoy her, to arouse her.
She ignores my innuendo or misses it entirely. “Will you be available to me this evening?”
I think of the ways I could make myself available to her and grunt because if I open my mouth and say what’s in my head, well, she’ll never call again. But maybe that wouldn’t be such a terrible thing.
“I request your presence at the airport,” she continues.
“I demand your presence in my bedroom,” I say before I can stop myself. Apparently, I have no filter. Ah, what the hell. Not like she’ll ever call me again after this.
She snorts and calls me a dirty name under her breath. It shouldn’t turn me on more, but it does. I imagine her eyes shooting daggers as she calls me filthy things. I’d take her lips under mine. I’d teach her a thing or two about what happens when she calls me names.
“What is this matter regarding?” I ask as I imagine her in my room. Bent over. Tied to my bed. Screaming for release as I drill deep. All of the filthy images flash through my mind.
“I’m afraid I can’t speak of the matter over the phone. It’s important that we meet in person.”
“Naturally,” I growl the word. She’s not going to show up. She’s making a fool of me. But I’ll play along if it means I can hear her voice for a few more minutes.
“Where would you like to meet?” I ask, thinking of all the urban legends I’ve heard. Isn’t this one of them?
Clueless moron gets seduced by a beautiful woman only for his bank account to be wiped clean and all of his assets taken.
“You may escort me from the airport,” she answers.
“Shall I bring the limo or the Rolls-Royce?” I do my best to sound bored and unaffected by the conversation.
“Your usual mode of travel will be acceptable to me.”
She sounds so formal. I can’t help wanting to shake her up. “What shall I tell my driver you’ll be wearing? Something sexy, I presume.”
“Something travel appropriate,” she answers, a definite coldness creeping into her tone.
“Pity,” I murmur, wondering what the scammer looks like. Dating isn’t really my thing, probably because people aren’t my thing. But maybe with a sweet little thing…no, what am I doing? Asking to become her next victim, that’s what.
Shaking my head at my silly thoughts, I say, “Be sure to text me your flight information. I look forward to our meeting, princess.”
I end the call without waiting for her response. I can’t wait to see how she escalates the game next. She’ll probably call and tell me her flight was delayed.
“And for the sophisticated palate, slugs, crickets, and some leafy greens,” I announce to Herbert as I add the food to his enclosure in my backyard. The box turtle had been injured on the side of the road when I found him two years ago. While I don’t believe in moving wildlife from its natural habitat, Herbert wouldn’t have survived much longer if he’d been left on his own.
“She didn’t come, Herb. But we knew she wouldn’t. Yep, just two bachelors here. Two happy bachelors.” I stress the word happy in case he has any doubts about that part.
He doesn’t bother to move from the shallow form he dug for himself. He’ll stay there overnight. In the daylight, he’ll begin to search out the dinner I’ve added to his enclosure. I did my best to mimic the forest surroundings he must have come from, but still, sometimes I wonder if he ever misses home. Does he remember his?