He wasn’t wrong, but I still didn’t feel good about it. I liked to think I’d evolved since then, as I was positive I wouldn’t be falling into that messed up pattern again.

I’d found new messed up patterns to obsess about these days.

CHAPTER SIX

I was working at my desk in my office, exactly two weeks and three days since Iris had given me extreme blue balls in a strip mall, when my phone rang.

I glanced at the lit screen of my cell.

It was an unknown number¸ but since Iris, I always picked up, no matter what, though it was never her.

“Hello,” I said into the phone, fully expecting it to be a telemarketer, who I planned to promptly end the call with. This had been the case the last three times I’d picked up an unknown number.

“Dair,” came Iris’ voice, all breathy into my ear.

“Iris,” I said, reclining my office chair enough to give me room to breathe through a suddenly tight air passage. “Where are you?”

“Nowhere close, unfortunately. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

I knew the feeling. I closed my eyes, letting her voice wash over me.

“When will I see you again?” I asked her.

“Soon. Very soon. I . . . can’t stop fantasizing about you.” Her breath caught. “All the time. I’m in the bathroom right now, masturbating again, thinking about what you do to me.”

I pinched the tip of my c**k hard through my clothes.

Phone sex? This was new, but crazy as it was, I wasn’t going to say no.

“What are you wearing?” I asked her, voice rough as I stroked myself over my gym shorts.

“A dress. I’m wearing that little white dress I had on that last time, when you took me on the stairs. Remember it?”

I shifted on the chair until I could yank my dick free.

I fisted myself bare. “Oh yeah.”

“I have the top unbuttoned. I had to sew the part you ripped, but my br**sts are hanging out. My ni**les are hard. I’m watching myself in the mirror, and I have my skirt pushed up. I’m fingering myself over my panties.”

“Shove them to the side, and rub your clit,” I ordered raggedly.

Some gasping on her end told me she was obeying.

“Send me a picture,” I tried.

“I can’t. This isn’t my phone. That would be . . . a very bad idea, but I wish I could. Are you touching yourself?”

I grunted an affirmative, fisting the middle of my shaft, then slowly rubbing up and down.

“I want you inside of me,” she breathed. “Bare. It’s all I can think about.”

I squeezed at my base until fluid beaded out from my tip. “I want that. I’m going to f**k you bareback the next time I see you. I don’t care where we are.”

I kept jerking my cock, pumping at it hard. I was going to come, and fast.

“I have two fingers inside of me, but it’s not enough. I need that big, thick c**k of yours, Dair. And your mouth. God, I miss your mouth all over me. And your hands.” She paused, her breath growing more ragged. “I’m using a dildo on myself now. My fingers weren’t enough.”

I pictured her using a toy on herself, slapping noises filling the room as I yanked hard at my cock

“God, Dair, I can hear that. It’s driving me wild. Tell me what you’re doing with your hands right now.”

“Jerking off,” I said through gritted teeth.

She was clearly better at this than I was.

She didn’t seem to mind, crying out into the phone as she got herself off.

I shot my load into the air, not bothering to try to catch it.

“I need your cunt,” I growled into her ear as I came down.

“Yes,” she gasped, still out of breath. “It’s yours, and you’ll have it soon, baby—” she broke off suddenly, and I heard a muffled voice on her end.

A deep, male voice.

Someone talking to her from outside of the bathroom?

I could only hope. There was no good scenario here, but that was the better one.

“Iris,” I said, voice tight.

“I’ll see you soon,” she whispered back.

The line went dead.

I was so angry that I threw my phone against the wall.

Four more days passed, and each one added to my frustrated rage.

I picked up a new phone, since I’d shattered my old one, and spent a lot of time at home, canceling any plans I had that involved venturing outside.

Foolish as it was, I was hoping she’d come to my house. If I saw her again, I needed it to be private.

It was three in the morning when she finally came.

I came to the door shirtless and sweating from another body punishing workout.

Against all odds, I’d been waiting for her.

She was wearing that little white dress. The one from the stair incident, nearly three months ago.

I didn’t touch her, just took her in as I stepped back and waved her through the door.

She swallowed, and I watched her slender throat work with the action.

My eyes ran down her body like hungry hands.

“Take off your dress,” I told her hoarsely, shutting the door.

She didn’t hesitate.

She toed off her white flip-flops, and tossed her big yellow bag aside, shrugging the dress over her head.

She met my eyes steadily, wearing nothing but little neon pink panties, the up-tilted globes of her br**sts swaying with her heavy breaths.

“My room,” I told her, feeling the rough beast of my need take hold of me with an iron grip.