Page 22 of They Call Me Wicked

It’s been too long since I’ve gotten laid. That’s all it is. I just haven’t had a release in a while. That’s got to be it.

Maybe I should call Emmerson, my long-term fuck buddy. He’s reliable, safe, clean, and always down for a booty call. We have an agreement that works. Both of us are allergic to commitment, have far more issues than any sane person should, and have chemistry in the sack. What more can you ask for?

I mean, it’s been, like, a year since I’ve summoned his…particular skills, but it’s a no strings kind of relationship. I get in. I get mine. I get out. It’s easy.

Banging my work colleagues who are currently my babysitters? Yeah, not so much.

Maybe I’ll call Emmerson.

I pull my phone out of my back pocket, my hands shaking as I consider how the hell I’m going to manage to sneak the fuck out, without my caretakers finding out. I switch the phone on and tap the screen.

“Unlock button.” The disembodied robot voice tells me oh so helpfully.

“I know. Thanks.” I unlock it with my thumb print and tap where I think the next app I need is.

“Messages.”

“No.” I slide right on the screen.

“Internet browser.”

“Omg. No. Stupid fucking phone. Did you move my apps?” I slide my finger across the screen to the left instead.

“Phone.”

“Yes!” I pump my fist before double tapping to go into the app.

“Contacts.”

“Thank you, robot lady!” I scroll through them, getting only slightly annoyed at all the names the phone reads to me until she finally says Emmerson.

The phone only rings twice before his deep voice sounds over the line, and I smile at its familiarity. “Wicked! Long time no see!”

“Hey, Em! What you up to?”

“Same, same.” He’s a man of few words, and I appreciate that about him. We’re not friends, we’re not a couple. Just a man and a woman who understand that we have needs and who use each other to fill them.

I’m just about to ask him for a littlewham, bam, thank you ma’amwhen Kai’s face flashes through my mind. My heart starts racing. Then Nic’s. Fire licks along my nerve endings. And then, surprisingly, Ezra’s. My stomach flips.

I pause with my mouth open to speak, but nothing comes out.

Then I picture Emmerson’s face. An attractive man by anyone’s standards, with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Strong features, strong arms, though nowhere near as stacked as my men. But it’s still like my vagina was dipped in a bucket of ice. The heat stops churning, my thighs stop clenching, and my heart slows to a normal rate.

I let out a sigh. “Sorry. Nevermind, Em.”

“Cool. Call me if you change your mind.” The sound of wind rushing through the phone like he’s outside accompanies his answer and I hang up without saying goodbye, knowing he won’t give a shit for the formalities.

Walking over to the bed, I deposit my phone on the side table and collapse onto my pillows.

Great. This is just fucking great.

I rifle in the top drawer of my side table until I find what I’m searching for. The smooth silicon of my favorite vibrator feels silky under my fingers and I quickly undress and slide beneath the covers. Grabbing my remote, I turn the TV on and blast the volume.

No need to let my house guests know exactly what I’m up to in here. Talk about awkward.

“Guess it’s just you and me tonight, Dildo Baggins.”

Let’s just see if we can avoid thinking about the men who drive me bonkers while we do it.