Page 14 of The Cruiser
ChapterSix
MORGAN
I’m lyingin bed at the Fairmont, the California sun beaming across my naked torso. My earbuds are in, I’ve dialed her number, and I find myself in the unfamiliar position of having to beg. My balls are swollen and close to bursting at the thought of hearing Mademoiselle Hillman’s voice. I’m putting money on her not answering her phone, but she surprises me.
Like she did last night.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, Vandana. It’s Morgan.” So pretty, her name. Rolling on my tongue like velvety custard.
“How are you?” she asks.
“Very good. Just packing up. Enjoying the view from my suite.”
The view across the room is impressive: the full and straining length of my cock in the mirror. I’m not usually one to watch myself in the act of self-love, but Vandana is the kind of woman to push a man beyond his comfort zone. All morning, I’ve dreamed of tongue-fucking her, her helpless body a melting puddle, all the neighbors knowing my name. Now that she’s on the line, I start to stroke myself, imagining her generous mouth taking all of me.
“Where we ended last night,” I continue. “I didn’t want there to be any lingering confusion. I’m very interested in working together.” I hope my sincerity rings true. It’s not my best quality, and often in short supply.
“Yes, well, we’re—I’m,” she corrects to my amusement, “interested too.”
“Fantastic. I don’t suppose you’re free for lunch today. I can sign whatever you need me to.”
In the background, someone does a poor job of muting a whisper. “Unfortunately not,” she says. “I’m busy today. But my assistant can draft the contract and send it so you have it first thing Monday morning, your time.”
Dammit. Even while denying me she’s smooth as butter. It fires me up so much, a warm ooze of pre-cum trickles out. “Do you need a deposit? I can have that wired over immediately.”
She hesitates. “You should look over the contract first. We never discussed figures.”
“Sure, send everything to my attention. My accounts person will review it. Schedule-wise, we need to be in Genoa on Friday. I’ll arrange for my jet to pick you up Wednesday, for a Thursday morning arrival in Monaco. That gives you a day to overcome the jet lag.”
Silence.
Usually I love it, crave it. Nothing but waves lapping on the side of my boat, land nowhere in sight. But Papa taught me to never allow the opportunity for a no. If money prevents her from coming to Monaco, I’ll never forgive myself.
“It’s all-expenses paid,” I add. “My company will cover everything.”
There it is again, another background whisper. A silent coaching committee?
“Can you give me until Monday to finalize a day and time?” she asks. “I need to sort out a few things on my end.”
With her unequivocal yes, my cock spasms in glorious anticipation. I close my eyes and increase my tempo. “Let me know if I can do anything to speed things along.”
My active imagination is a blessing and a curse, and the danger of jerking off on the phone is that I might momentarily drift off. Sure enough, visions of sweet Vandana spool through my mind and off I go, fantasizing about my hands fisted in her lustrous hair. Vandana heat-slicked and begging for mercy, her ripe, swelling body arching against mine. My dark, corrupted soul insatiable with need.
“Are you still there?” she asks.
My eyes flash open and an inarticulate gurgle spills out before I can stop it. “Yes, I’m here.”
“It sounds like you’re running.”
I back off, biting my lip in agony. I’m so hard, it aches. “Ah … yes. No. Just heading outside for a walk.”
Another silence. I’ve been involved in many awkward pauses, but none quite as embarrassing as this.
“I have to get going,” she finally says. “But thank you for the follow-up. Travel back safely, and I’ll make sure Timothy sends you everything by tomorrow.”
“Very good,” I manage. “Until next week.”
