Page 63 of Roughing
I shrugged.
“What do you guys think about this serial killer in Portland? I’m a little disturbed that one of the missing women is a regular at the Puck and the other was a regular at the Irish pub a block down the road. The places we hang appear to be his hunting grounds.”
“Yeah, that’s not good.” Grady sat across from us, adding his two cents. “Aspen knew Pria. I’m not sure if you guys realized Aspen’s mother is missing and has been for a few years. She was last seen in Portland, though closer to the area around the Rainbow Unicorn Studio.”
“Do they think she’s one of the victims of the serial killer?” Trent reached for the hot sauce and drowned his steak in it. I watched him with shocked curiosity. I’d never seen anyone coat their food in Tabasco and live to tell about it.
“I haven’t heard that they’ve made a connection.” Distracted, Grady eyed the steak floating in a hot sauce lake in horror. I totally understood his reaction. I probably had the same one.
“There’s something unsettling about all of this,” Dash agreed, but he, too, was waiting for Trent to take that first bite.
I listened with interest but was reluctant to volunteer information on Michella’s involvement and how much it bothered me. I’d never been the type of guy to dump my problems on others or express my concerns.
I called it a night around midnight and returned to my room. A contented warmth spread through me. I hadn’t felt this good in a very long time, and it wasn’t just those few beers I had talking.
Lounging on the bed, I video dialed Michella. She answered on the second ring, and her beautiful face filled the screen. I grinned, happier to see her than I’d been anyone in recent memory.
“Hey, baby,” I said.
Her eyes widened in surprise before her brilliant smile lit up my screen. “Someone’s in a good mood.”
“I’m talking to you. What’s not to like?”
“I am pretty special, and don’t you forget it.” Her soft laughter filled me with joy, even though I had this impending feeling of doom, as if things were too good to be true, and I didn’t deserve such good fortune. I shoved those negative thoughts into a dark corner and refused to let them regain any of the ground they’d lost recently.
“I won’t. Promise.” I crossed my heart. “Are you doing okay? Everybody’s talking about the body they found.”
“I’m good. Sad because they haven’t caught this guy yet.”
“Do you still think it’s Gordon?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, but he looks better than most of the persons of interest.”
My gaze slid to the bottom of the screen. I could barely make out sleeping elephants on her shirt. “Are you dressed for bed?”
“Do you think I’d wear this to work?”
“Not on your life.”
“I’d planned on reading in bed, but now that you’ve called, I’m thinking we might come up with a better source of entertainment.”
I perked up, certain I wasn’t misconstruing her meaning. “Aren’t you a little warm in those pajamas?”
“Now that you mention it…” Her wicked grin told me all I needed to know. We were on the same page. Michella wasn’t one to play games. She pulled her top over her head and discarded it. The position of her phone only allowed me to see the swells of her breasts, but we’d be getting to the good stuff soon enough. I yanked off my T-shirt and set it aside. Second-guessing her next move, I unzipped my fly and freed my dick. Holding the phone away from my body, I gave her a good look before lowering it.
“I see you’re ready for action,” she said.
“Sure am, baby. But you aren’t.”
Her slow smile lit a fire deep inside me that would never totally extinguish as long as she was in my life. She leaned the phone against the nightstand lamp and shimmied out of her pajama bottoms and panties. I squinted at the screen, making a mental note to purchase a tablet with a larger display for future road trips.
Phone in one hand, cock in the other, I waited with anticipation.
Keeping her eyes on me, her hands trailed slowly down her body, across her breasts, past her naval, to rest at the apex to her thighs, one of my favorite places on earth.
“Do you miss me?” I croaked, arousal clogging my throat.
“I do.” She used what I referred as her sex voice, deep and throaty and hot as fuck.
