NOVGO.NET Chapter 51: IS THIS PHONE SEX
Chapter 51: IS THIS PHONE SEX
LAURA
The line only had to ring twice before it connected.
Silence hung on the other end for a beat of two seconds before his deep voice rumbled into the speaker.
"Hey."
I cleared my throat and adjusted in the tub. My wetness rubbed against my thighs, leaving me breathless.
God.. Why did I call Tristan, again?
I should be keeping away from him, not calling late in the night, while I’m naked in my bathtub.
"Laura?"
"Uhhh, yeah. Here."
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah. What are you up to?"
He hesitated for a brief moment, then he gave me a smooth answer. "I’m out on my balcony, shirtless, trying to catch some air, a nice scotch dangling off my fingers."
I subconsciously licked my lips as my skin tingled. "Shirtless, huh?"
"Wanna see?"
I blinked and sat up in the tub. Could he possibly imagine what I was up to right now? Was he consciously trying to feed me a thirsttrap?
Before I could respond, my phone pinged in my ear. I pulled it away to see a photo text from his number. Below the photo was a crisp but tempting warning.
Tristan ~ Open this only if you’re bold enough.
His voice rocked into my ear, startling and arousing me simultaneously. It was a delicious feeling. "Do you like my gift?"
I scoffed and bit my lips, helpless and breathless. "Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not opening this."
"Tell that to yourself if it makes you sleep better at night." He scoffed, and his voice dropped to a low hum. "I can bet right now, one of those slender fingers of yours is currently hovering over my gift, about to rip it open."
My face flushed hot, and I hated how right he was. Because my thumb already hovered over the photo, about to tap it open.
After a moment of silence hung over the line, he asked me a simple question in a thick drawl. "Why did you call, Laura?"
This simple question still had what it took to make me stutter. "Er, I-your wife."
"What about my wife?" I noticed the shift in his tone.
Fuck, Laura.
I remembered why I called. To let him know what Madison had done and get him to tell her to stay away from me.
But deep down...I knew that it wasn’t even the true reason I called.
My body ached for release, and that was why I called Tristan. It was because this body knew somehow that Tristan was the only one who really knew how to touch me.
I guess some one-night stands really can’t be forgotten. No matter how much the subconscious tried to swallow it, the body always brought a sharp reminder. Especially when that one-night stand was with a man as hot and sexy as Tristan Pierce.
What was he doing in the world of business? He should be on the runway, an Alpha male model with a charming, yet intimidating aura.
"Laura, you there?"
I cleared my throat and forced the thoughts away. "You know what? Forget I said anything." It came to me like a sudden revelation. Why did I have to tell him about what his fiancée did?
When I’m more than capable of handling her mischief myself...
After a moment of silence, Tristan responded in a reserved tone. The light, playfulness was gone. "Whatever you say."
"Yeah, so..."
"Mmhm. What’s on your mind? Excited?"
My fingers slipped between my legs and brushed against my wetness. A wave of naughtiness washed through me. "Excited? Maybe."
"Hmm." His voice grew huskier by the minute.
"I’m just going to go ahead and tap this photo open, Tristan. And I reaaally hope it’s nothing that’ll make me sue your ass to court."
"Go on, open it." He urged gently, a tease in his voice. "I know you want to."
I rolled my eyes and tapped my thumb against the photo. And my jaw dropped. My thighs got slicker. My pussy ached harder, throbbing uncontrollably.
All this...because of Tristan’s bare, solid, tanned chest.
God, he really was shirtless. And it was hot as fuck.
The shot was taken at an angle that caught his biceps and half his jawline. The urge to run my lips across every inch on that chest and jawline snatched me from the deep ends of my stomach and spread heat across my veins.
"So, like what you see?"
"Tristan..."
"Do whatever you want with it. Stare at it all day. Maybe touch yourself while at it." He laughed, and his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "I’ll warn you, though. Get ready to be addicted."
"What are you doing, Tristan?" I hated the way my voice came out in a breathless whisper.
"Admit it. You want this. That’s why you called me. I bet you’re somewhere alone right now, with your fingers down between your legs."
Oh, fuck no. No way. Liquid heat ran down my thighs, and I reached for the wine glass with trembling fingers. As I gulped it down, my eyes darted around the bathroom, trepidation creeping up the back of my neck, a hot pressure sitting there. Could there be secret cameras I wasn’t aware of in my own bathroom? Where Tristan watched me in real time?
That would be insane.
But my body responded in the opposite direction, nipples perking harder at the thought of being watched by Tristan. Being bare to his hungry gaze without even knowing it.
The ache between my legs was becoming too much. I needed to touch myself until I came, but I wasn’t willing to do it with Tristan on the phone. So I quickly tried to dismiss him.
"Look, I’m sorry I called so late at night. I just had questions about these, uh...private strategy dinners."
A pause hung on the line.
Then. "What questions? Hit me."
"It’s late, Tristan. We’ll talk tomorrow." I clicked the line dead before he got a chance to respond. Then I stared at the blank screen for a moment, breathing hard.
What the hell was that? What just happened? Could that be the mild version of phone sex?
I mean, the things he said...the picture he sent...the voice...the tease in the husky drawl. That was what I thought it was, right?
Heaving a sigh, I sank further down the tub, into the water, soaking up every last of my juices that had mixed with the water, fingers urgently rubbing against my clit, a gasp falling from my lips, a white hot sensation building from the pit of my stomach.
A couple more vicious rubs and it became too much. I crashed hard and fast. The orgasm rolled through my veins, leaving me satiated and weak.
"Fuck," I muttered afterwards, tracing the same fingertips against my lips, sticking my tongue out and tasting myself.
I think I’m really in trouble.