Page 10 of Our Little Cliche

Chapter Ten

HOLLY

I make tight swirls around my clit, working a delicate rhythm that only I know and love while the shower water scalds my back at alarming temperatures.

I plan on washing away the blues from my second night of sorrows down the drain by fingering myself senseless and not coming out of the water until I look like a cooked crab and my clit is swollen beyond compare.

My mind drifts back to the guy from the bar last night, setting fire to all of my senses in an instant.

With the steady burn from the shower and that man in my vision, my nipples pinch tight.

His rugged lumberjack physique, strong and stubbled jawline.

His deep, professor-like voice, so rigid yet tentative.

The way his hand felt when it touched mine, like a sizzle of lust and desire shooting through my blood.

A deep moan roars from deep within me, feeling the heated knot in my abdomen bringing me closer to oblivion with each circle. I don’t know how, but this is by far the best impending climax I’ve felt. I’ve done this many times, but nothing has felt as good as right this very moment.

I imagine him moving slowly and gentle, talking me through each motion. Praising me… because for some reason, he seems the type and I can’t get it out of my head. He rolls ice over my nipples, then sucks them back to warmth again. He tastes my wetness from his fingers, demanding that I do too.

My pussy clenches with the need to climax.

I’m close, so incredibly close. I’ll have to picture him every time from now on.

Again, and again, and again. I picture him pulling my hair, sinking deep into my core, tugging at my scalp, then massaging the tender area to soothe it.

All to send my body into an erotic state between pleasure and pain.

Stimulating each and every one of my senses.

Ecstasy creeps closer, and closer, and?—

My phone rings, vibrating loudly on the porcelain basin. “Shit!” I wail breathlessly, glancing down at it. I had only switched it on to check the maps for directions as I planned on going into town after my shower. I didn’t need data roaming on, since it’s all satellite based.

But clearly I was far too heated thinking of him … whoever he is, and I must have forgotten to switch it off. I’d ignore the call if it was an Aussie number, but it wasn’t. It was Canadian.

Ugh, but I was too close.

Wait, maybe it’s a call about a job? I didn’t think I put my number in, but I must have. Putting the overthinking aside, I dry my hand and slide to answer—with a broken breath. “Hello?”

A beat passes, and I begin to think it’s a scam call. “Hello. Is this Miss Cate?” A rich, deep, business-man responds… It’s seductive, even, heightening the arousal that already runs through me, and I have to cross my legs to stop the ache.

Oh, no. Not helping.

“This is she, yes. Sorry you’ve caught me while I’m…

” really mad at you for interrupting me trying to orgasm over a really hot guy that I’ll probably never see again , “…indecent. Can I call you back in two secs?” I add, still panting.

The line goes silent again, and desperation hounds between my legs to finish.

“I’ll wait.” His tone is almost playful, laced with demand. For some ungodly reason I feel like he knows exactly what I’ve been doing. And for an even more ungodly reason, even though I have no bloody clue who this man is, it excites me .

“Oh, uhm, okay.” I’m stuck for words. Come on, a job is more important than an orgasm. I let out a breathy sigh, putting my phone down, then switch off the water. The towel covers barely a third of my body, but I manage to wrap it tight. “Sorry, are you still there?”

His voice is once again inviting with a buzzing sense of arousal, and I can’t help but feel that it sounds familiar.

“Of course. My name is Cyrus. I’m calling on behalf of Riverton House Publishing.

” Oh my god, this job? Fuck yes! “As we’ve just seen your resume.

I must say, it is quite appealing. Both myself and the publishing house are very pleased. ”

“It is? You are?”

I’m surprised that he took an interest in my experience. I’d only worked in a very small publishing house for a garden magazine, not novels. And I’m a self-employed, freelance editor. Crap… what about my cooking? It’s… how do I say it lightly?

Average.

“Yes. When can you start?” Cyrus asks abruptly, sending the butterflies in my belly to dance.

This is all happening so fast, I’ve not even had time to explore the town, but at least I can make a few dollars to buy things I need before my furniture arrives.

Like food, and a kettle. I can’t believe I have to wait three to four weeks for my stuff.

Stuff you Christmas, making my stuff delayed.

“I can start as soon as you need me. But…” I freeze up, not wanting to admit that I have no car and would have to rely on getting an Uber to work everyday. I’d walk, but after the snow storm yesterday, I’m not game to walk in that every day.

Besides, not having a car was the least of my problems—imagine hiring someone who is emotionally damaged, living with nothing in their house other than a blow up mattress, a pile of smutty books, and a platter of fruit that has about two grapes and half a banana left on it.

How embarrassing.

If he knew that he would never hire me.

“But?” He mirrors me, dropping an octave, and sending a shiver down my spine… and lower .

“How easy is it exactly to get an Uber in this town? Or, would I need to take, like, a team of sled dogs or something to get around? I don’t know my way around town yet,” I confess.

“Plus, there’s the snow thing, so I can’t walk there and…

I’m sorry, I’ve only just moved here and I-I don’t have a c-car yet,” the words stutter out.

God I feel awful.

Guilty for having wasted his time.

A strong, two beat laugh crackles through the phone. Far out, even his laugh is hot. I really ought to remember to not answer the phone whilst horny. “Hmm, quite the predicament. I don’t have any sled dogs on hand, but part of the arrangement was to have you picked up by my vehicle.”

“Oh, really?” I must’ve missed that. “Wait, I actually got the job?”

“Having second thoughts?”

“No!” I cough, clearing my throat to dull down the sense of urgency is my voice. “No.”

“Glad to hear it. A car will be ready for you tomorrow at 8.50 A.M. No need to bring anything, we’ll have everything ready for you here. Is that okay for you, Miss Cate?”

Is that okay for you?…holy fucking shit. Dammit, why does his voice have to be so sexy? Now I really can’t stop thinking of touching myself.

I push the phone away from my face to take a breath in and back out again.

“O-okay.” I wouldn’t have reacted this way had I climaxed before this Cyrus guy called.

Maybe thinking about the guy from the bar wasn’t a good idea, now my thoughts are diluted between the sexy voice of here and the sexy man in my head.

My breath climbs again and I can feel my nipples rubbing against the rough fabric of the towel, sending more signals between my thighs.

“Something wrong, Cate? You’re breathing… quite heavily.”

Holy crap.

Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my cheeks flush a shade of scarlet I’ve not seen on me before and I have to muster every inch of professionalism I possibly can to speak clearly.

Does he… know?

Could he have known that I was about to cum when he rang? “N-no… uhm. Sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say the words so fast I get whiplash.

“Until tomorrow.”

The line goes silent and I practically throw my phone—now with 1% battery left—back on the counter, turn the sink tap on, and drench my face with cold water to cool down.

I stare at my flustered reflection again, “Get a grip, woman. Focus! This is not the time to get hot and flustered over a hot voice that belongs to your new boss, for crying out loud.” I press my index finger on the glass, “Are you listening to me? Fo-cus .”

“Yes, I’m listening. And I’m focused,” Cyrus’s voice murmurs from the phone, a bit muffled. What. The. Fuck.

“Shit! I thought… I thought you… I didn’t. Hang up, ” I say the last part as quiet as a mouse, full of embarrassment and shame. “I’m so sorry.” I end the call in a panic and scream at my phone. Oh my g— what the heck am I doing? He is definitely going to fire me before I even start my job.

Great. How am I going to face him tomorrow? I can’t. I have to leave this town, right now. Seconds later a text message takes up the screen on my phone.

Unknown number:

Lips are sealed r.e the hot voice/boss thing.

Oh, and the breathing…

See you tomorrow. - Stone.

Oh. My. Freaking ? —