Home > Late Call (Call #1)(28)

Late Call (Call #1)(28)
Author: Emma Hart

I cry out as pleasure begins to build inside me, but I can barely feel his fingers working me. It’s his words. They’re making me think of what could be and how he could make me feel.

“I’d hook your legs over my shoulders while I run my tongue along your wet slit. You’d shudder and tremble and beg me to stop, but I wouldn’t. I’d lick you harder and faster until you came all over my tongue. And I bet you taste just as sweet as you used to.” He drags his teeth along my bottom lip.

I hold on to him tightly, my nails digging into his skin as he brings me closer to the edge. As his fingers sink inside me, his thumb pushes into my throbbing clit. I gasp and push my naked, wet body against his solid one. I writhe against him until he brings his mouth to my ear and whispers, “Come for me, Dayton. Hard.”

He presses his fingers deeper and pushes my clit harder and I come apart on a blissful high. Pleasure threads through my body, making my legs tremble. I am wholly consumed with the feelings flooding my body.

“Fuck,” I mutter into his chest. “I didn’t plan that.”

Aaron’s chest vibrates as he laughs. “If you think you’re going to suck me off and make me come that hard without getting the favor returned, then you can think again.” He runs his hands over my body. “Come here.”

He lathers soap in his hands and rubs it over my body before reaching for the shampoo.

“Turn around.”

“I can wash my hair,” I grumble.

“I know,” is all he says before he runs his fingers through my hair and works the shampoo in. His fingers moving against my scalp is relaxing and comforting and—

“You always used to love washing my hair.” The words are soft. Unsure.

He falters in his movements. “You remember.”

I swallow back a sudden lump of emotion. “Yep. I had a fight with Mom. She didn’t want me to get hurt by you. Because she didn’t get it. So I ran to you and you spent half an hour in the bath, sitting behind me, just washing my hair and listening to me talk.”

“And then I held you while you cried because you felt so bad for yelling at her.”

I close my eyes. “Then I dragged you to meet her properly and convinced her it didn’t matter if I got hurt because I loved you. And the love was worth the pain I knew would follow when we parted.”

Aaron washes the shampoo from my hair, and when it’s completely clean, when I think the conversation is over, he runs his fingers through it.

“Was it? Worth it?”

“I don’t know.”

***

I hear the scrape of metal as the dark curtains are spread open, filling the room with bright sunlight.

“Good morning,” Aaron says in a voice that’s way too happy.

“No it isn’t.” I burrow beneath the covers. “Go away.”

He laughs and tugs the sheets away. “I have coffee.”

“I don’t care. It’s too early.”

“I told you I had an early start.”

“Yep. You. You have an early start. Not me.”

“Wrong.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What do you mean, wrong?”

“We both have an early start.”

“But you said—”

He leans forward, smirking. “I didn’t say anything about a meeting or work, did I?”

Did he? No. Crap.

“So you left that party early why?”

“Because this is the only day this week without a meeting or a goddamn party, and I want to spend it with you.”

I prop myself up on my elbow. “And what if I have plans?”

“With who?” He raises an eyebrow in amusement.

“With myself.”

“Stop being ridiculous. Drink your coffee, get up, and get ready.”

I sit up. “Is that a request?”

“It’s a demand. Fucking do it.”

I grin at his retreating back and grab the coffee, sipping slowly. I kind of love it when he does that. When that demanding, powerful side of him I see so clearly when he’s turned on creeps into everyday life.

“I’m not waiting all day, Dayton!” he yells into the room.

“You didn’t say I had to drink the coffee fast!”

“We leave in ten minutes.” He pokes his head around the door. “So it’s the coffee or your looks.”

“You woke me up with ten minutes to get ready?” I jump out of bed, totally disregarding the fact I’m only in underwear, and run to my suitcase.

“No.”

I look straight into his amused, smirking face.

“You have half an hour. But it was worth it to see you in that lace.”

“You’re an ass**le, Aaron Stone.”

“You should see me in the boardroom.” He winks and I shake my head. I can fully believe it.

I unzip my suitcase and stare at the masses of clothes there. “What am I supposed to wear?”

“Whatever you want to wear.”

I fake a gasp. “No demands?”

“Don’t f**king tempt me, Dayton.”

I laugh quietly and grab a dress. It’s fun pushing these newfound buttons he has—even if I’ve only nudged a few of them. These are sides that were suppressed when we met, things I only ever got a glimpse of. But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe if he’d been this powerful, then I’d have run a mile.

Funny how the thing that probably would have scared me then is very thing that makes me so attracted to him right now.

“And don’t even think about taking that lace off,” he calls through when I hook my fingers in the side of my panties.

“Does it matter? You won’t be seeing it.”

“No.” He appears in the doorway again, his eyes hooded. Shivers assault my body. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t imagine you in it and f**k you in my mind all day.”

He goes as quickly as he appeared and my jaw drops. So what if men f**k me—physically and mentally—all the time? None of them have ever been quite as blunt about it as Aaron.

“Close your mouth, sweetheart, or I might be tempted to fill it for you.”

“Jesus Christ!” I pull my dress over my head and storm out of the room. He’s leaning against the small bar in the corner, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Did you swallow an erotica book or something?”

“I warned you I’d be f**king you in my mind. That includes your mouth.”

My cheeks heat.

“Are you blushing?”

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