Page 8 of Miss Christmas

“I think I resent that question, Lover Boy. I thought we had a connection. It may have been marginally lessened by the fact that you have money, but then at least I know you’re from a good family—though I don’t want to marry you. Just . . .” She trailed off, sounding less sure of herself than she had a second ago. The way she’d spat out the word marry had him convinced she reviled the notion. That was a good thing.

“What do you mean the connection was lessened because I have money?” His interest returned to full force. She was a puzzle. Or she was lying—but he didn’t think so.

“I have a rule about men with money. I might be willing to break my rule for you… does that excite you, Will?”

“What rule is that?” His excitement was returning.

“I never get involved with them,” she said.

“What do you mean by involved? What are you looking for, Scarlet?” He loved her name. It suited her. He pictured her in a red silk teddy. He almost didn’t care what her answer was. He would give her whatever she wanted. But he hoped she wanted the same thing as he did.

“Fun.” Her voice sounded forthright, almost defiant, daring him to disbelieve her. “You intrigue me.” Then she paused and, in a more intimate voice, said, “And I just tossed my boyfriend’s ass to the curb, so I’m lonely tonight.”

“Lonely?” The way she’d said it made it seem more real than a flirting exaggeration. “We can’t have that. I don’t mind being the cure for your loneliness.”

She went back to purring laughter and he felt the grin on his face, felt his blood heat up again, had a sudden need to hear her scream his name into the phone as she shuddered in orgasm. He switched the phone from his right to his left hand.

“You don’t mind?” she said. “I’m flattered by your enthusiasm.”

He chuckled, amusement winding with desire, spurring him on. “Tell me where you are, Scarlet. Describe how you look. I’m sure my enthusiasm will perk up.”

“I’m in bed. With you. On top of the covers because I’m hot. I need to take a shower, but not yet. I want to wait for you, wait until I have a reason to cool down, wait until you heat my skin until it burns.”

“What do your nipples look like?”

“You want graphic talk, Lover Boy? I’ll give it to you. I have my right hand on my breast—and you know how large it is, and heavy. I’m lifting it, playing with the weight of it. Stroking the soft skin. It feels so hot.” She paused a beat. He was dizzy with the sound of her intense breathing in his ear.

“I’m circling the nipple now with my fingers. The nipple is tall and dark and ooh . . . so sensitive when I flick it.” He heard her suck in a breath and he moved his right hand down, leaning forward to pull his shorts off. Then he grabbed hold of his straining cock and squeezed.

“What are you doing, Lover Boy? Tell me every detail.” Her husky voice taunted him.

* * *

Scarlet’s hand trembled as she held the phone, but she managed to keep her voice from trembling, thank God. She was going to hell for letting her wild impulse get the better of her, but she might as well enjoy the ride. Needed to enjoy the ride tonight, now, with hot hunky Will Regal, fantasy man.

“I’m squeezing my cock, trying to hold it still. And you?” His voice sounded tight.

She felt her belly flop and something bubble up in her, choking and needing a way out. Slipping her hand down her body, feeling the heat, her eyes shut tight, picturing his enormous cock being held in his enormous hand, she let her fingers push aside the folds of her pussy and zero in on the pulsing wet nub. Trembling and breathing heavily, trying to control so she could speak, her voice came out a raspy gasp.

“I’m trying desperately to pretend my finger is your hard, throbbing cock.” She took a breath, listening to his rumbling breath. “And I have to say, I have a hell of an imagination, because damn if it doesn’t feel so-o-o good.”

“How wet are you? Tell me.” He sounded like a dying man, needing one last bit of redemption. And she so badly wanted to give it to him. Her finger circled and plunged as she pictured him moving his hand, faster as his breathing quickened. Feeling her own creamy heat, feeling the tight coiling in her gut, she tried to speak.

“Scarlet—I need to hear you.” Desperation was a mild word for the explosive turmoil she heard in his voice. The sound gave her a jolt of power and nearly drove her past the edge, so she stilled her hand and spoke.

“I’m an endless river of desire, hungry, pulsing, hot . . .” She felt her voice rise as her fingers gravitated back to her clit.

The pad of her index finger circled as her clit burned, swelled, contracted. His heavy breathing filled her head.

“Scarlet . . . tell me where you are.”

“I’m—I—can’t.” She ground out the words on a rising pitch, her face screwed up as she pictured him, his cock slick, bulging, and hot. Her finger dipped inside the melting funnel of her heat. She shuddered and held off even as she groaned.

“Not yet, honey,” he said. “Feel me f—cking you. Feel me inside you, crashing into you hard and fast, grabbing the flesh of your breasts, burying my face between them, burying my cock deep, slamming, in and out—Scar—”

The hitch in his voice undid her as her fingers circled and squeezed and the spiraling sting rose, snapping her legs together like a spring, as she gasped.

“Will—no—yes!” Rolling into a ball with her hand clamped between her legs, she bucked and gulped in breaths between bursts of searing cum and unintelligible orgasmic screams.