Page 29 of Royal Pain

“That’s right.”

“Did you have a good day?” he says in low tones.

“This is the best part of my day. How about you?”

“I had trouble concentrating. You interrupted me consistently.”

He can’t see the smile on my face, but he knows. I’m sure of it.

“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” I say with false innocence. “It’s three in the afternoon there, but we could pretend to be together in this comfy bed.”

I hear the intake of his breath. Up until now our conversations have been seventy-five percent pure, with a twenty-five percent variation on the theme. Nothing really raw, but unveiled references to our sizzling sex life. But tonight I have other plans.

“Yes! That’s a big yes. Do whatever you’d like. No wait! I think I need to prepare!”

“Do it,” I whisper.

All I hear is the rustle of clothes and the frenzy of pants being removed. The bed frame’s squeak punctuates the moment. I settle against the pillows.

“Okay, baby. I’m there with you. In bed?” he says.

“On top of the bed. It’s warm tonight.”

“Are you naked, Belinda?”

“No. I’m wearing a blush-pink camisole and panties.”

His intake of breath echoes all the way from Africa.

“Are they see-through?”

“A little bit. But mostly you can see the shape and outline of things. My nipples are poking against the soft fabric and my lips are pressing against the seam of the panties. That feels really good.”

“Oh God. My mouth is on them. Right over the material. Feel me?”

Hell yes I feel him. Phantom Zan is better than any other flesh-and-blood man.

“I feel you sucking me. I love the sensation. Here. I’m taking my top off.”

The gossamer top goes flying off the bed.

“Oh, baby. My dick is so hard for you. I’m imagining my tongue licking and tasting your beautiful tits. Hell. You’re a goddess.”

My hand moves to my pussy and I feel the effects of Zan’s words.

“Honey, my panties have a little wet spot on them. Oh!”

His breathing rises with his desire. Mine too. “I want those things off. But before you do, do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“Run your finger up the seam, right between your lips. Do it.”

Following his command, I trace the path between my lips, bottom to top, slowly. Really slowly. God.

“Zan. Oh God. My clit is rising. It’s like a little pebble.”

My legs fall open in a natural response to the sexual tension and mood.