Page 42 of Against the Clock
“The jersey looks fantastic on you. I like how you’re wearing it,” I quickly add, because why the fuck did I have to say that about my name?
“Oh yeah? You like the no pants look?”
“I fucking love the no pants look. I don’t think I can pull it off like you can, though.”
She laughs, and the sound makes me smile.
“What if I told you what else I’m wearing?”
I go silent, still, wishing like hell I wasn’t in Miami. “I would like that,” I finally answer.
“I’m wearing your jersey,” she says. “And…”
“And?” I prompt, my voice hoarse.
“And nothing else,” she finally finishes. The humor’s gone from her voice, replaced by a husky note that has my entire body sitting up and taking notice.
“Nothing else. Fuck, Kelsey.”
“Isn’t this why you called?”
“I mean, it’s a bonus, but I just called because I wanted to talk to you. Now I’m more interested in what you’re doing right now, on the phone, in your apartment, by yourself with nothing on but my jersey.”
“You just wanted to talk?” she says, and I hate the confusion in her voice.
“Kelsey, trust me, I would love to have phone sex with you. If you want to talk dirty to me right now, I am happy to participate in that. But I… yeah.” I rub the scruff on my jawline. “I just called because I wanted to hear your voice. Hear how your day was. Hear if you liked the flowers.”
“Oh,” she says, and her voice is small. “I feel stupid.”
“Jesus, no, don’t.” I could slap myself. “Please, if you want to get off with me on the phone, I’ll help you. I’d fucking love to help you.”
“I’m embarrassed now.”
“We can’t have that,” I tell her, mentally kicking myself. “How about this. You go lie down in your bed, wearing my name, my jersey, on your naked body, and you tell me exactly what you want to do to yourself.”
“Okay.” She still sounds unsure. “Are you going to…”
“I don’t touch myself the day before a game. Maybe it’s superstition, but I swear it keeps me clear-headed. Aggressive.”
“We can just talk,” she says, but I hear the disappointment.
“Fuck that,” I say, laughing slightly, even though this isn’t funny, not really. “You be a good girl and do as I say.” The words come out sharper than I intended, but she lets out a little whine that tells me she likes it.
“Okay,” she says, her breath hitching on the word.
“Are you going to use a toy? A vibrator?” I ask. My cock strains against my pants, but I ignore it, focusing on her.
“Do you want me to?”
“I want you to get off,” I growl into the phone. “I wish I was there to spread those pretty thighs and feast on you.”
A moan is my reward and I memorize the sound, wanting more of them, wanting to hoard all her little noises.
“I have my vibrator,” she says, and sure enough, a hum starts in the background.
“Are you wet?” I ask her, my voice a rasp.
“Not as much as I was last night.”