Talk Dirty To Me (3 page)

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Authors: Ginny Glass,Inez Kelley

BOOK: Talk Dirty To Me
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Note absence of hetero partner features. Minimal concentration on partner suggests the male is unimportant except in the biological function of penetration. See dildo/vibrator notes.
Jarod grunted. Unimportant his ass. He didn’t care if his partners used toys—they could be fun, heightening the experience—but to chalk all men up as unimportant except in penetration? Miss Nora needed to be fucked good and proper. Some things batteries just couldn’t replace.
And why hadn’t she finished that fantasy of hers she’d started writing on the inside of the back cover? Reading that had sent his imagination tumbling through erotic space. It was only the beginning, the setup. Dark and quiet room, a voice whispering naughty suggestions, her pussy aching in emptiness and her breasts tingling from her own fingers…Damn, he was horny. And intrigued.
His erection poked straight out in his sweats and he contemplated taking care of it, but the slow burn of arousal was a powerful drug, one he didn’t want to let go of just yet.
She was the most interesting thing he’d encountered in months. The allure was simply too great.
The phone was in his hand before he could have second thoughts. He carried it into his bedroom and put it on the comforter, looking at it and rubbing at his chest. He sneezed once, twice before stripping down to his boxer briefs.
You are a low-life. You are a stalker. You haven’t even had your first date yet.
His finger acted without consulting his brain. The number rang through. Just as the ringing stopped, he sneezed and coughed. He reached for a Kleenex as a whiskey-tinged voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Nora.” His voice was scratchy, gruff and thick.
“Who is this?”
A dawning realization made Jarod grin. Nora didn’t know who he was. He thought she would figure it out, know it was him, but she had no idea. He didn’t sound like himself thanks to Puffball Meowser.
Oh, he could have fun with this. He deepened his voice to a growl. “Guess.”
“This is an unlisted number.”
“I’ve got your number. You, sweetheart, have a very dirty mind.”
Her gasp over the airwaves sent a direct current of electricity to his balls. He wanted that breath in his ear as he showed her how much better a hard cock was compared to some latex dildo. Jarod heard low voices in the background and, after a moment, silence. The TV? Her voice came as cool as the underside of his pillow and he sprawled back on the bed, one arm tucked under his head.
“I assume this means you found my book and my recordings. I’d like those returned, please.”
“Sure, once I’m finished reading it. I already listened to the tape. ‘Women on Sex ’ isn’t a great title though. You should have labeled it ‘Getting Deeper.’”
“How much do you want?”
“How much what?”
“Money. That’s what this is about, right? You want a reward or something. Fine, how much?”
Jarod let his smile spread wide and chuckled. “We’ll talk about my reward in a minute. Do you really think batteries can replace a man?”
“I am not discussing my theories with an obscene caller.”
“Obscene caller? No. Consider me an editor. Some of your thought processes are flawed.”
“Flawed?” Even her indignant snort turned him on. “And you are, of course, qualified to judge something like that. Where did you get your biology degree?”
“Backseat of my dad’s Ford. Some of what I read is spot on and fascinating but other parts…Let’s just say it’s obvious you’ve never had a multiple orgasm.”
“That is none of your business!”
“Nora, I’m trying to help you, sweetheart. You’re not a dimwit. You know your biology, your chemistry and your physiology. You’re just
way
off base on the sexual angle. If I hadn’t read page 376, I’d swear you were a virgin.”
“I want my stuff back, asshole!”
There it was—Nora had fire. He knew it. That fire sizzled from the receiver directly into his bloodstream and ignited a white-hot flame. “If you want it so bad, it will cost you.”
“I cannot believe some arrogant, obscene caller is blackmailing me! Poorly, by the way. You really need to work on your technique.”
I’ll show her technique.
“I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll give your things back. No charge. Just talk to me. Share with me. Let me see inside that pretty head and help me understand how a total and complete knockout has never had one mind-boggling experience with a man.”
“How do you know what I look like? Who are you?”
“Call me Cyrano.”
“Oh hell no. What are you, twelve?”
“Twelve inches, no. A good eight maybe.”
A soft snicker caressed his ear. “You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m not. But let’s leave measurements alone. You can call me whatever you want.”
“I can also hang up.”
“James.”
“What?”
“You can call me James. Have you ever read James Joyce’s erotic letters to his wife? Her name was Nora, too.”
“Does being a psycho stalker get you off or something?”
“If it did, would you put me in your notes?”
There was another pause. “Okay,
James,
how do I get my things back from you?”
“Just talk to me, sweetheart, that’s all. Have you never really lost it during sex? Just let go and let the good times roll?”
The silence on the line crackled with static and he sat up, worried he’d crossed some line. “Nora?”
“No way. I am not talking about something so private to a man I don’t know, and whose number shows up as out of area.”
That’s right, his cell was still registered in New York. He closed his eyes and took a stab in the dark, praying she understood or at the very least wouldn’t hang up on him. “Maybe because I
am
some stranger, someone you don’t have to face but who really wants to know. I wouldn’t laugh or judge. Hell, I’ll share anything you want me to, just talk to me.”
“I just want my stuff back.”
“Three pages.”
“Excuse me?”
“Every question I ask that you answer honestly, I’ll return three pages of the book.”
“And I don’t get it until I’ve amassed enough credit for you to return the copy? The thing is almost six hundred pages.”
“So we’ll talk a long time.”
“And the interviews?”
“Those I keep until we’re finished. Come on, you’re intrigued and you know it. Start talking.”
What the hell was he doing? He was insane. He was asking for
carte blanche
into her head. If pepper spray could come through phone lines, he’d be royally screwed right now.
“You’re an asshole and no, I’ve never lost it in bed,” she snapped.
Hot smoking hell, she answered me.
Jarod blew out a breath and blood surged anew to his cock. “Why not?”
“Three pages.”
“What?”
“I get three pages. You ask another question, I get three more, right?”
“Sure. Give me what I want and you can have whatever you want.” Jarod wanted to sprint out of bed, find Nora and watch that full mouth spill out the answers to his deepest, dirtiest questions. The phone was suddenly too impersonal, and yet he couldn’t hang up. It was a connection, a meeting place, stripped bare of social niceties and manners. Communication, words, the very basics of human interaction.
And it was wickedly, basely enticing.
“So tell me why you’ve never just let go.”
Nora’s mind raced, exasperated and panicked. She had no idea how this man—James?—had gotten her number, but he had her research and, with it, some pretty private notes on some pretty racy fantasies. Resentment rankled in her at the embarrassing position he was forcing her into.
You need that tape back. You can’t blow all that work. It’s your chance to be taken seriously.
He wanted truth? He wouldn’t know truth if she told it. What could she say that would satisfy this stranger?
Lie.
“My body doesn’t…It may be hormonal. I don’t make the nerve connections required to have an orgasm or something. I don’t get turned on.”
A choking laugh filled the static between them. “Nora, sweetheart, that is…impossible. There’s no such thing.”
He was right, at least in her case, but if he was going to mess with her, she was going to give right back. “It’s first-year endocrinology.” She bristled.
James laughed, a full-throated, sensual sound that rippled through her. “See, we’re communicating just fine. This is our first fight.”
Nora rolled her eyes. Too bad the fight wasn’t face-to-face. She’d love to aim a well-placed kick at this creep’s jolly bits. Before she could unclench her teeth, he continued.
“Your past lovers must all be blazing idiots who couldn’t fuck their way out of a wet dream. You have passion, sweetheart, they just never tapped into it.”
Nora scoffed, her anger slipping, replaced by indignation. “Stop making it sound like I slept with an army of the inept. I barely date and when I do, the men are…efficient enough.” A little truth—the ease with which she’d let it slip to this phone pervert alarmed her.
This perv has your tape. And a pretty nice voice.
“They aren’t crass, impolite strangers. You now owe me nine pages.”
He let her dig slide. His next words smacked of arrogance, as if he knew just how to loosen the buttons on her pristine lab coat. “I could show you that your body is entirely capable of not only being turned on, but capable of being played like a violin on fire.”
Her laugh was soft. He wished he had that power. What man didn’t? Nora had certainly wished it a few times herself and always came away wanting, needy and unsatisfied. “You’re so cocky. Are you going to fix me, James?”
“I don’t think you’re broken. Let me show you. Where are you?”
He had the most delicious voice. She wondered what he looked like. Nora licked her dry lips, tasting the phantom flavors he’d suddenly made her crave—smoke and dark chocolate, sweat and the sharp edge of heat the women in her book experienced with their lovers. The breathless catches in her interviewee’s tones were something mysterious she’d wondered about. She heard them now, echoed in her own breathing.
Nora closed her eyes, dead silent. So what if she wasn’t some marabou-and-lace vixen? He didn’t have to make fun of her. Her fingers tightened on the phone as he went on.
“Safe men are boring. Safe men don’t make you writhe and beg and tremble with aftershocks. I can. Tell me where you are.”
How was it that she could be enticed by the thought of a stranger making her pant in pleasure, scream in satisfaction? His voice sent erotic, delicious tingles along her bones.
Don’t be silly, Nora. Your body is programmed to respond to masculine octaves…
The silence stretched. Nora’s stomach clenched. She was tempted and that sped her already thundering heart to a near-painful clip. This was too scary. Too fast.
“Nora?”
She hung up, her pulse jumping in her throat. She dropped the phone on the coffee table and wiped her sweating palms on her pajama shorts. She’d clutched the phone so hard her knuckles were white. A foreign trill of excitement warmed low in her stomach at the same instant fear traced icy fingers up her spine.
“Because I am some stranger, someone you don’t have to face but who really wants to know. I wouldn’t laugh or judge.”
“I could show you that your body is entirely capable of not only being turned on, but capable of being played like a violin on fire.”
Of course she’d fibbed to him a little. Her body was fine, there was nothing wrong with it—it functioned. When she’d had sex in the past, the right reactions had occurred, things got in the places they were supposed to go. But she had never “lost it in bed” with anyone. She held a large measure of disdain for sexual theatrics. Some men expected screeching, wailing, thrashing sirens during sex. Nora chose quiet men, plain men, studious men, unspoiled by the porno mentality. Men who didn’t expect her to be a three-ring circus between the sheets.
Sure, she’d only really climaxed by herself, but lots of women were that way. Three of the women she’d interviewed had never had an orgasm with a man. This James character was just trying to get a rise out of her. He was probably king of the
Penthouse
and
Playboy
set, some stoner college kid with nothing better to do than rile her up. She didn’t care about his filthy mind or his opinions on her work.
So why was her heart still pounding so hard?
After one last check of the locks on her front door, Nora carried the phone into the bedroom, dropped it into the drawer in her bedside table. She slammed the drawer shut a little too hard, jotted a few last notes, took her temperature and slid into bed. Deliberately pushing all thoughts of James and his mysteriously erotic voice out of her head, Nora closed her eyes. Her mind drifted and the whispers of a seductive caller lulled her into dreams.




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