Page 13

13

Phone Hog

M y attendance at the office has been limited ever since Red’s been on bed rest. Other people work at the Dayton Daily besides the two of us. We have an office manager, a bookkeeper, and an intern, but I’m not necessarily friends with them. They’re all nice enough, but they're just coworkers, not people I’d want to chit-chat with. With Red absent, there’s no pressing need to sit in my cubicle. I can work at home just as well.

It’s Friday. Two days have passed since I last saw Brick. I’m itching to do more to help the pack now that my position is solidified. All I can do is wait for Brick to schedule another date. After how we left things, I’m nervous he’ll prolong our next meeting. After all, he ran out of my house as fast as he could. I could easily text him, but it wouldn’t be believable. My hatred toward him wasn’t a secret. If I play too desperate too early, I’ll blow everything. But then again, it’s obvious he’s also using me. He hated me, too. There’s no reason for him to go on dates with me other than extracting information, and he clearly thinks he’s doing it.

I wonder if he’s suspicious of me since the Hunters were caught at Josie’s house. Multiple women have gone missing or have been murdered, so it isn’t surprising that we’d have Weres patrolling the area. Maybe he does know I set him up. I just have to hope he’s willing to allow it again at the chance of snagging useful information from me. We’re both playing a very complicated game.

I can’t let myself stew in the uncertainty of all of this. Instead, I throw myself into my work, writing my big expose article revealing all of the Hunters' evil doings. When it’s done, it will be riddled with evidence—police reports, pictures of their secret hideouts, mugshots of the guilty men. Obviously I don’t have this information right now, but I write around it, making up what I think will be the ending. I type out a paragraph on Brick, naming him as a double agent for the Hunters, using his position to gain wealth and power promised by the evil group. It doesn’t feel as good as I thought, calling him out for his shit. Maybe once I have the evidence, it will feel better.

As if the thought of Brick summons the demon himself, my phone lights up. It’s a text from an unknown number. Date this weekend?

At first, I assume it’s Brick, but then I remember I don’t have Kilo’s number. God, fooling around with two men on the same day sure has its consequences. It’s a Dayton area code, but maybe Kilo’s using a different number while he’s here. I know shit about how international phone service works. If I texted Kilo under the impression he was Brick, he wouldn’t be upset; this is what he trained me for, but I have to think of a clever way to respond. A thought pops into my mind. Should we watch The Godfather?

He’s as quick a texter as he is at emailing. What? The Godfather? No. Hate that movie. Okay, so we’ve got Brick on the line. It was kind of an odd request, so I must recover. Okay, just checking. I also hate that movie . I mean, I probably would.

I have something else planned. No movie, he responds.

Shit. A movie at his place would be the perfect situation for some spying. We’d make out, fuck, I could get him drunk again, he’d pass out, and then I could snoop through his shit. The idea excites me more than it should. I want to protest, but I hesitate. Whatever he has planned could still work. A date could always end up back in his bed.

I didn’t even say yes to the date. I might have plans.

You don’t have plans.

How do you know? I have a very active social life, thank you very much.

If you had plans, you would have said that before mentioning The Godfather.

Maybe I made plans since you’re stalling.

His reply doesn’t return immediately, and I smile, assuming I bested him. My phone rings, and horror washes over me. He wants to have a phone call. Ew. I let it go to voicemail, but he immediately calls me again. I sigh and pick up. “What?”

“What? How about hello?”

“Why are you calling? And how the fuck did you even get my number?”

He scoffs. “I’m a Sergeant. I have my ways, and I’m trying to plan something with you. Your messages are cryptic as fuck. I just need to know if you’re available tomorrow morning.”

“It depends.”

“Depends?”

“Yeah, depends on what you have in mind.”

“Can’t it be a surprise?”

Considering he’s a potential murderer, no, but I don’t say this. “Does it involve me getting hurt?”

He sighs. “Why would I bring you on a date where you get hurt?”

“I don’t know. Your last date involved you getting hammered drunk and me having to carry your huge ass back to my house. You’re lucky I’m a werewolf, or I’d never be able to manage.”

His voice softens. “I know I’m sorry. I was just… nervous.” He sounds sincere, and I feel bad for shitting on him. Only for a moment, though, and then I remember who he is. “I want to make it up to you, so I’ve planned something that will be fun and won’t involve alcohol.”

“Hmm.” I want to make him squirm.

After a moment of silence, he clears his voice. “Besides, I didn’t think the ending of our date was that horrible for you.”

I’m frozen in shock. Did he just say what I thought he said? Yes, we’re supposed to go on another date, and maybe I’m giving him a harder time than I should, but it’s an unspoken rule that we don’t bring up what happened in my bed. Especially for him since he left in such haste, obviously regretful. Does he think he can make me squirm, and I’ll fold? He should know me better than that.

“It was clearly a good time for you,” I reply.

“Clearly, but it could have been better.” Okay, ouch. Sure, I didn’t even touch his cock, but I’d like to think even my ass rubbing against his shaft was earth-shattering.

“What if that’s the best you're going to get?” I reply.

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know yet.”

His voice is low, airy, and thick. “You screamed my name with just an ounce of my attention. Imagine the sounds I could pull from you with my cock buried deep inside of you.” I pull the phone away from my ear, looking down at it with my mouth agape. There’s no fucking way he just said that to me. Who does he think he is? I adjust myself, sitting crisscross on my bed. My wet panties grab my attention. I like this more than I should. I probably made him sweat enough. I returned the phone to my ear, listening to his breath on the other end.

“And you came just from the feel of me. If I let you fuck me, you’d never recover.”

His voice shifts an octave lower. “Don’t worry about me, little wolf. You won’t catch me protesting if you want to ride me for hours.”

I scoff even as my hand clenches outside my lounge shorts. “You wish.”

“And you don’t?”

“No.” My voice holds no confidence.

“Then why are you straining to reach between your legs?” I whip my head around my room, my throat constricting. “Are you watching me right now?”

He laughs. “So you are tempted to touch yourself. You play a big game, Carmen, but I can always read you. Even now, I can feel your arousal through the phone.”

“And what about you? I bet you're rubbing your hand over your cock, imagining my ass grinding against you,” I say with annoyance.

“No, I’m imagining much more than that.”

I rub at myself from the outside of my shorts. It’s subconscious, and I hate myself for it, but his words make my body unable to control. “Like what?” I hate the question. Even as I try to mask it disdainfully, it comes out much too breathy.

“I’m imagining you straddling me, rubbing your velvet cunt up my length. Nearly getting off just from the texture of me.”

“Can’t even fuck me in your fantasies, huh?”

He tsks. “Carmen, real men don’t fuck right away. I have to get you soft and malleable for me first, so you’re squelching around my cock.”

Somehow, my hand has made its way down my shorts and beneath my soaking underwear. I move slowly as if Brick can hear me if I pick up my pace. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing what his oddly sensual words are doing to me. A heavy breath escapes me, and I clamp my lips, but it’s too late. I can hear the smile on his stupid face. He goes on, “I’d let you slide over my dick until you can’t take it anymore, clenching me in your small hands and positioning my swollen head at your entrance, but I’d pull you back.”

I scoff, my fingers now circling my clit, annoyed but too aroused to do anything else.

He continues. “No, I won’t let you ride my cock until you beg me to fuck you.”

I laugh this time. “I’d never beg you. I won’t have to.”

“Oh, you sound so sure.”

“If my cunt was anywhere near you, you’d come from the sight of it.”

“Maybe,” he offers. “But I can keep coming, little wolf.” What the fuck is with his new nickname for me? I can’t say I hate it. At least not right now, with my ecstasy mixing in with my hate. “I’d use my cum to help me fit. It won’t be easy to sheath inside of you, but I’d make it work. I’d make it so good for you.”

I’m lost now, unable to think of words, only moans leaving my lips. I’ve ended up on my back somehow, my fingers rubbing my sensitive bud without caution. My brain clouds with his words, imagining his hand down my panties.

“That’s it. Moan for me. Just like that.” I cry out, not letting up the pressure. “Oh, fuck.” he whimpers, and I realize he’s probably touching himself too. I have to know. “Where are your hands, Brick?” I ask.

“Wrapped around my cock.”

I moan, my brain picturing him lounging in a dark room, his legs spread wide as he yanks himself from tip to base. I’d do anything to see him right now.

“God, Carmen. You’d feel so much better. I’d already been filling you by now.”

My orgasm washes over me. I edged myself even to make it this long. I scream out, wringing out every last drop. Bricks moans echo in my ear, eliciting another wave of ecstasy.

Only a moment of silence passes between us as we catch our breaths. I wait for him to sputter apologies and hang up. Whenever he shows me any level of attraction, it seems to be against his will. But to my surprise, his commanding voice doesn’t waver. “Don’t make plans Sunday morning. I’ll pick you up at ten.” He hangs up. Leaving me sated, confused, and pissed the fuck off.