Calendar Girl (15 page)

‘How so?’

Balls, balls, balls! How?

I stammered and settled for, ‘In a biblical way.’ Then I repressed the urge to beat my head on the wall. Fuck!

His laugh was so deep and genuine the urge passed fairly fast. ‘I figured that. But I mean, how? Was I good to you?’ His voice had grown deeper, despite that seeming impossible to me. He sounded interested, amused and highly aroused.

God. Were we having phone sex?

‘I ... well, um, I ... Jeeze, Penn, I don’t think I can say it,’ I gasped. ‘I mean, it’s really dirty.
Really dirty
. So dirty when I woke up I had to–’

Oh shit.

I bit my tongue and shook my head at myself. No, no, no. I had not just gone there. I had not just verbally shot myself in one foot and then turned and joyfully shot myself in the other! I had not done that, right?’

‘You had to what, Merritt?’

Fuck it all, I had.

My nipples didn’t care that I felt stupid. My nipples felt that taunting, alpha, insistence in his voice. Felt him willing me to tell him and spare no detail. My nipples, effectively, had become lethal weapons. Stupid nipples.

‘Oh, please don’t make me,’ I whispered.

He was silent for a moment and I prayed and prayed and prayed for leniency. Finally, Penn said, ‘Tell me. And tell me everything.’

Chapter Twenty-four

‘O
H, GOD
, I CA
N’T
,’ I said. I thought I might actually up and die if he made me say it out loud. Dirty talk was hard for me. I felt shy and self conscious and over analysed every word I chose. If I said cock, then I worried should I have said penis? Or thing? Dick? Schlong? And then I panicked and tended to cry. I was not a sex siren. I did not know how to say all the dirty things in my head without cracking. Sometimes I managed but mostly I failed.

‘Why not?’

‘I have a hard time with the sexy talk,’ I said, honestly. Then I swigged a pirate-sized gulp of wine and felt the warm trail of blissful alcohol as it went down.

‘Then I will tell you my dreams,’ he said.

I stared at the phone like it would bite me. ‘Your dreams. You’ve dreamed of
me
?’ I asked as if that was the most insane thing in the world.

‘Why do you sound so surprised? I just told you I can’t stop thinking about you and I also told you I’ve literally thought of things to tell you so I could call. Why would dreaming of the girl with storm-coloured eyed be so odd?’

‘I have no idea,’ I said.
The girl with storm-coloured eyes.
It made me feel intense and special. It had been a long time since I had truly, deep down in me where the truth of myself lived, felt special. ‘Tell me, please. Please tell me,’ I said, putting my feet up and tilting my head back.

‘My first night here I dreamt you were in my bed. You were in my bed and you were wrapped in this perfect white nightgown. Old fashioned and prim. Loose cotton over lush curves.’

He was only describing a nightgown but my pulse was tripping over itself in my throat. I sucked in a breath and it stuttered into my lungs. It was hard to breathe. Like I was in a humid room. ‘You dreamed of me clothed?’ I said. ‘That is wise.’ And there it was. Classic Merritt Evans’ self deprecating humour.
Fuckitall
.

‘Hush, woman,’ he said and I hushed. My pussy was keeping time with my heartbeat and I felt a rush of want and need so intense I wanted to climb out of my own skin.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said and I meant it.

‘The nightgown was nice because it covered you and when I wanted you, I had to uncover you. I started with burrowing up under that flouncy skirt and the lace was rough on my cheek. It had a ring of lace along the bottom like a wedding gown. I pushed up under there and you were so warm, so very warm. And you parted your legs for me. So I could taste you.’

Firstly, yes, we were having phone sex. Secondly, it was hotter than hell in my house, or so it felt. ‘Taste me?’ I veritably wheezed.

Why had I been fine and flirty and great with all the others but with this guy, every time I opened my mouth, I felt like dumb came out? Flustered, tongue tied, girlish, crazy, looney, flighty. All of these applied when you added Penn Fratila to the equation.

‘Yes, you parted your thighs for me and let me hold your thighs wide with my hands.’ His voice was deeper still and his accent had thickened so it seemed to drip from every word. ‘And you let me bow my head between your legs and taste you. Lick your clit and suck at the wet juices from your pussy.’

I moved around on the sofa like crazy. But no position was comfortable. I felt like I would spontaneously combust at any moment. Or come.

‘I like that,’ I breathed. I almost said
in general
but bit my tongue and finally, blissfully saved face. ‘I mean. I think I would very much. With you.’

He smiled. I don’t know how I knew, but I did. My pulse was pounding in my temple and I felt it beat against the cell phone mashed to my ear. ‘You let me rise up over you and straddle your chest. So that my thighs pinned your arms to our side. Does that scare you?’

‘Yes, a little,’ I said. The honesty flew out of my mouth with no hesitation. So did, ‘But I would let you.’

‘And you let me push my cock into your mouth. I traced your naked, full lips with my tip and when you licked me with your flower-pink tongue, I lost control and slid into your mouth. Thrusting gently but firmly so that you took all of me.’

A little sigh escaped me and I shifted yet again. I could feel the cotton crotch of my sunrise coloured panties and they were wet. Soaked with my own juice and my desire for Penn. ‘I would like to know what you taste like,’ I admitted and found my panties with one hand.

I tried to behave, merely resting my fingers on the outside, pressing against my clit with my fingertips but with the chaste third party of the fabric keeping me in the good girl zone. ‘Are you touching yourself?’ he asked.

‘What? No!’ I yelped, blushing.

‘Well, I want you to. Will you? For me?’ he asked almost coyly.

There was my green light. I slipped my hand down into my panties and touched my clit. The zing that shot through me told me that Penn had me to the point of no return. A few more sentences and he would have me coming, begging, gushing all for him. I slipped a finger into my cunt, pressed. Hummed low in my throat. ‘I am now. Will you?’

‘I am,’ he chuckled.

I listened, heard the subtle rasp of hand on cock and smiled. My chest and pussy and face warming all at once. ‘Good,’ I said. ‘Then what happened?’

‘Do you really want to know?’ he asked, his voice a bit fractured, his breath harsh in the receiver.

‘Yes, of course. What happened?’ I glided wet circles and patterns over my clit. Pressed either side of my labia to feel that pressure build. I pushed my fingers into my pussy, waiting for him to reveal.

‘Ask me nicely,’ he whispered. I heard faster, furtive sounds and imagined his big artist hand on his cock. Long and hard and the colour of unripe plums from his arousal. I wanted to slip my lips over the length of him, lick away that salty gem of precome. I wanted to know what kind of sweet and salt and heaven he tasted like.

‘Please tell me what happened next. Please tell, me, Penn.’ He had me begging and I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t like it.

‘I lost my composure sliding in and out of the wet heat of your mouth. I pulled back and forced your knees wide and you moved up under me a bit, to open your cunt more for me. To bare to me the rosy flushed ripe colours of your sex.’

My orgasm started to build in my pelvis. A purple kind of pressure that made my womb feel full of potential pleasure and release. I sighed, moving my fingers faster. Chaos and order working hand in hand to get me to come. When he talked, it was like hearing one of his paintings in words. ‘Yes,’ I said.

‘I drew a line down your wet, wet opening and you moaned for me. You begged me, Merritt.’ His voice had gone from dark and deep to guttural and raw. I had never been more turned on by a voice in my life.

‘I did. I do. Please, finish me,’ I said, forgetting myself. Forgetting to be embarrassed or a force of nature or any of it.

‘You whispered to me, little pleas and tempting words and I slipped into you. Almost without effort. Like breathing. Your proper white nightgown pushed up around your breasts, bare and pink tipped for me to bite. And I did bite them, just hard enough to feel the pain and pleasure resonating in your pussy. To feel your pleasure wrapped tight and wet around me as I fucked you.’

I moved my hands to his words, doing a seated erotic dance on the sofa cushions. So close to coming my whole pelvis felt wound tight like a top ready to spin. ‘Fuck me,’ I said.

So he fucked me with his words. I didn’t know it was possible, but he did it. As surely as a hard cock would make me come, the picture he painted his picture in my mind with a sensual brush and revealing words.

‘You wrapped your legs around my waist. You pulled at me. Strong legs and ankles that tugged me deeper so that I couldn’t hold back any more. I kissed you, Merritt. Your tongue was soft and insistent on mine and your mouth tasted like the sweetest, reddest berries from my youth. I kissed you until I simply fell into that kiss, your sweet pussy tightening around me and when you cried out into my mouth and nipped at my lips I ...’

I was coming. The spasms working through me as my fingers continued to fly and I heard his breath catch at my small cries and he forced out the last, ‘... spilled into you, kissing you until every single flutter of pleasure had ceased for us both.’

I sat there on my mussed sofa, dazed and flushed, pussy beating in time with my pounding heart. ‘Wow,’ I said. ‘That was better than real life sex I’ve had,’ I blurted. I was too loose and calm to be embarrassed by my words, for once.

‘I agree,’ he said. He laughed and said, ‘My family will be here any moment. I hope I wasn’t too ...’ he trailed off with a deep laugh that made me laugh.

‘What? Don’t embarrass me!’ I wailed, flopping back on the sofa after a nice sip of wine.

‘I was going to say too forward, but I think we passed too forward a while back.’

‘Around the time you made me beg for it,’ I snickered.

‘Yeah, somewhere around there.’ I heard a doorbell and he exhaled loudly. ‘They are here,’ he said, sounding very foreign in that sentence.

‘Have a fun day,’ I said. ‘I’m off to bed soon.’ Then a yawn overtook me.

‘Can I call you tomorrow?’ he asked.

‘I’d be sad if you didn’t,’ I said. It was true.

‘Sleep tight, Merritt.’

‘I will. Have fun.’

‘I will.’ The doorbell rang again and he said, ‘I’m sorry I have to–’

‘It’s fine! Fine. Go. Have fun. I’ll talk to you soon.’

‘Dream of white nightgowns,’ he said softly.

‘And sweet kisses.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Goodbye.’ And he was gone.

Oh ... I was so not going to sleep tonight.

But I did sleep with decidedly sexy dreams. White nightgowns and a dark-haired man between my thighs. My fingers in his cocoa-coloured hair when his face was between my legs. My face in the crook of his neck later when he was fucking me. I woke feeling ripe and flush, so ready for Penn Fratila to be back in the country.

But he wasn’t.

The phone rang and I jumped. If it was Matthew I wasn’t sure what I’d do. I wasn’t sure how I felt or what last night meant for my calendar boys. Even the current one who loved to get his fingers in my hair and his cock deep inside me.

It was Jeffrey. ‘Where’ve you been?’

‘Hello to you too,’ I laughed.

‘Hi, darlin. Now. Where you been?’

‘Grammar,’ I yawned. I rolled to my belly and snuggled under the covers. I had an appointment with Michelle today for a tour and with Trudy MacDonald to start on her mother’s soon-to-be room. We had to make piles of donate, keep and trash so I could actually
get
to the room.

‘Where have you been, my dear lovely Merritt?’

‘Better,’ I laughed. ‘I have been around. Working. I have a new client, dating a new guy, talking to ... another guy.’

‘The vampire?’

‘Artist,’ I said.

‘Whatever. Why do you sound all bubbly when you mention him?’

‘I don’t.’ I was lying and we both knew it.

‘You gonna come see me at the club any time soon?’

‘Maybe. How’s Jack?’

‘Fine, and I mean that in all versions of the word.’

‘Bleh,’ I said.

‘Beyatch.’

‘I know it. How’s my mother?’ I yawned again but forced myself to catch up. It was nine and I had an hour before Michelle and three before Trudy.

‘Fine, actually. She is now bugging us about moving in together.’

‘What?’ I yelped. I found a pair of fashionably distressed jeans, a plum-coloured cowl neck tunic and some copper-coloured leather sandals. ‘She was just ready to tie herself to the railroad tracks over him being gay.’

‘She’s accepted it. Now she’s trying to get him settled down. Like you,’ Jeffrey chuckled.

‘Like me?’ I gasped. ‘I am divorced and sleeping with, well with ...’

‘Everyone!’ Jeffrey shouted.

‘That is your fault, mister!’

‘Yeah, I’m standing there with a gun to your head while two guys share you.’

‘Shush!’ I said. ‘That’s a secret.’

‘I know. No one’s here. Is anyone there?’

‘No.’

‘Then what are you worried about?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe someone is listening,’ I whispered.

‘Do you need me to make you a tinfoil hat?’ Jeffrey asked.

‘Shut up,’ I said. ‘I have to go. I need a shower and I’m running late.’

‘Did you have phone sex?’ he said.

‘How di– I mean of course not.’ Too late. I’d faltered.

‘I am a psychic,’ he said.

‘A fake psychic,’ I said. ‘You even put that on your cards.’

‘And folks eat it right up. They think it’s funny.’

‘Har har.’

‘How was it?’ he persisted.

‘Good. Really, really, really good,’ I confessed.

‘Awesome. See you tonight?’

‘Yes, yes! I need to go!’ I yelped.

‘Are you bringing the boy of the month?’

‘I don’t think so. I think tonight I’ll be flying solo.’

‘I’ll call Lisa, then. Cool?’

‘Yes!’ I yelled. ‘I have to go!’

‘Diva,’ he laughed.

‘Bitch,’ I said.

‘You know it,’ Jeffrey said and hung up.