Page 9 of The Loneliest Number (The Thirst Trap #3)

Chapter eight

Pixie

I ’m panting in Cam’s ear. I can’t help it. He’s got me riled all the way up. Our teasing discussion got me wet. I love it when a man knows what to do with his mouth. And I know for a fact that Cam’s mouth has multiple talents, not least of all, that wonderful fucking accent of his.

His hand eases into the front of my underwear and I suck my belly in to make more space. I need his touch. I need his thumb on my clit and his thick fingers fucking me.

He groans softly as he teases my entrance with the tip of his finger.

The voices from the entranceway up my excitement: I want to get caught.

I love the indecency, the naughtiness that comes with doing something you’re not supposed to, somewhere you shouldn’t be doing it.

I bet that Archie guy would happily watch.

And fuck, I love an audience, whether it’s one person I’m with or a crowd.

Cam’s got me pinned to the wall, and it’s a turn on to know this guy could throw me around any way he liked, and yet, he checked for consent today and took good care of me when we spent the night together in Glasgow.

Thank goodness for green flags. I’ve seen enough red ones to last a lifetime, thank you very much.

He shifts his footing to change the angle, enabling him to thrust his finger deeper inside me. I moan at the sensation of my wet pussy making way for him.

“Hush. Or I’ll have to stop.”

“Please don’t.” I need him to keep going. His finger curls inside me, causing my toes to scrunch up in sync with his movements. I close my eyes, concentrating on how good it feels. He grinds the heel of his hand against my clit as he thrusts deep and I let out another long, low moan.

“Pixie.” His warning tone just makes me wetter. I want to be bad. I want him to tell me off.

“It feels too good to stay quiet,” I tell him.

“If you can’t be quiet, I won’t let you come,” he rasps. My eyes spring open to stare into his. He has a brow raised, his finger still inside me. “Can you be quiet?” I give a shaky nod and fail immediately when he resumes that maddening stroking, letting loose a purr of pleasure.

His other hand comes up towards my throat and rests there. “Do you want to come or not?” His accent has become thicker than I thought possible.

“Yes,” I try to whisper, but it comes out on a moan.

His hand withdraws.

I whimper in desperation. I can’t help it. “I was so close,” I plead, watching as he licks his moist fingers.

“But I can’t trust you to be quiet. We can’t let the others know what we’re doing here. We’ll get in trouble.”

“I promise I’ll be quiet.” He gives me a ‘yeah, right’ look and chuffs out a laugh. “Put your hand over my mouth. I promise I’ll try.” He’s still effortlessly holding my body up against the wall. It makes me feel weightless.

“I can’t trust you,” he rasps into my ear.

“You can.” I plead, needing him to continue. I might not have expected to see him again, but now he’s here, I hunger for him.

“You’ll have to earn your orgasm.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll give you five orgasms later if you agree to meet me. And you can be as loud as you like.”

“I’m working today.” I pout, the promise of getting my rocks off seeming to dissipate more with every passing moment.

“What time do you get off?” I smile at his question. He rolls his eyes. “When do you finish work, you heathen?”

“Officially 9 pm, but I usually just stay until closing if I’ve nothing else on.”

“And what time’s that?”

“11 pm on a weeknight.”

“But you can finish at 9?”

“Yeah, as long as we have enough staff in.”

“Bar? Or restaurant?” he asks. I stiffen at the question.

“What makes you think it’s one of those?”

“The hours you’re keeping. What bar is it? I can come and pick you up.”

“Ha, nice try. But I can come and meet you. Where are you staying?” He names the fanciest local hotel, and my brows spike up in surprise.

“I would have thought you’d be in the Travelodge. Isn’t that where they normally put the workmen?” I ask.

I swear a blush rises on his cheeks. What’s that about? “I had some points to use up. I decided to splash out for the first week.”

“Well, in that case, I’m happy to help you make the most of it. I can come there from work. Should be with you by 9.15 pm.”

“How will you get there?” He frowns. I fidget, realising he’s still pinning me up on the wall.

It’s pretty comfortable, even with my jeans still open.

I push at his shoulders. and he eases me down to my feet.

I reach to button up my trousers, but he gets there first. I tremble when his knuckles graze my belly as he does up the zip and button.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

“How will you get there?” He repeats his question.

“It’s not far. I’ll walk.”

He shakes his head mutinously. “No.”

“What do you mean, no? I’m a grown ass woman. I can do what I like.” My defiance raises its head.

“Get a taxi.” His tone is bossy.

“For a five-minute journey that I can walk in ten? No, thank you.” I’m arguing for the sake of it now.

“Then the arrangement is off.” He sounds so final. Is this it? The moment when I’ve finally been out-stubborned? It had to happen sometime, but I’m proud of my thirty-year streak.

“Come on, Cam. I live here. I know the routes to take to stay safe. You don’t need to worry.”

“Call me,” he says. “Call me before you leave your work building, and we can talk on your walk over. Or just keep an open line in case you need it.”

I ponder it for a moment. It would mean he’d have my number. But if the man is promising me a ratio of five orgasms to one—and I’m not doubting that he can deliver that—then I think he’s probably earning the right to my phone number.

“Okay. But only on the proviso that you don’t use my number for anything too serious. Drunk booty calls and ‘you up’ messages when you’re horny only, okay?”

He lets loose a chuckle, causing a warmth to spread through me. “Of course,” he agrees.

I guess that’s alright then. I’m doing this. If only to see if he can pull off the five orgasms. And maybe a little because it’s really damn good to see him again.

“You sure it’s okay if I go early?” I’m leaning against the doorjamb of Tom’s office as he sits behind his desk, tapping away on his keyboard. He stops what he’s doing to turn and face me with a frown.

“Abby, your shift ends at 9 pm. You’re not leaving early. You’re leaving on time.” He runs a hand down his face.

“You look tired. You should head home. My thing isn’t important. I can stay and lock up,” I offer. Yeah, the promise of orgasms sounds good, and I’m not avoiding Cam. But I want Tom to know he can depend on me, especially with this new bar opening up in The Juniper building.

“I’m fine, Abs. You know book-keeping and accounts always make my eyes cross. I’m grateful to head out front and leave this for another day.”

“If you’re certain.”

“I am. What are you doing anyway? Got a date?” His lips curl into a smirk, clearly at the ready to rip the piss out of me at any opportunity.

“Just catching up with an old friend,” I tell him, enjoying the air of mystery I’m conjuring.

“Anyone I know?” he asks as he pushes back from his desk and rounds it to walk towards me.

“Nah, but I think you’d like him,” I say, tilting my head to the side as I realise that he probably would.

“If you mean I’d like him, you know I’m strictly a one-woman and one-man guy these days.”

“I mean, he’s hot and you’re not blind. But I just meant, I think you two would get on.”

“Maybe you should introduce us, then?”

“Yeah, maybe.” I let myself imagine it for a moment.

Cam sitting up at the bar beside Jack and Cass, while Tom and I work behind it, all of us chatting and laughing.

That would be kinda cool. But Cam doesn’t know anything about me.

Although if he’s going to be around for six months, perhaps I could consider a temporary fling.

Just while he’s here. I’ve never had any relationship last that long though, so perhaps not.

Best I stick to my usual terms and stay as mysterious as possible.

I wave goodbye to the guys behind the bar after getting my bag and jacket from the staff room.

I’m out the door and about fifty metres down the street before I remember my earlier promise.

I wonder if I should just head to the hotel and surprise him, but I need to check his room number anyway.

A call seems a bit much though, so for the first time in the three and a half months I’ve had Cam’s number saved on my phone, I shoot him a text:

Me:

Hey, it’s Pixie. On my way now. Should I come straight to your room?

My phone almost instantaneously starts to vibrate with an incoming call from the man himself. I blow out a sigh as I answer.

“You said you’d ring me.” His grumpy Scottish accent has excitement curling in my belly. Why do I enjoy winding this man up so much?

“Well, I texted you instead. I’m usually a text girl rather than a call girl. But perhaps, given your accent, I can get on board with the call thing. Only if you whisper dirty things to me though.”

He huffs out a laugh. “You really are a menace, aren’t you?”

“I’ll have you know, I’m a fucking delight.”

“Well, yeah, I do remember the delightful fucking, but you’re rubbish at following instructions.”

“I’m great at following instructions when they make sense.

But there was no need to call you on the way over.

I walk these roads at all hours. I know how to keep myself safe.

And probably being on the phone and distracted by your sexy voice is less safe than if I had all my wits about me.

” I wait for his banter back, but the line is silent.

“Cam? You there?” The sound of his sigh comes across loud and clear.

“I’m still here. Don’t want to cause a distraction.

Keep the line open, and we can chat when you get here.

” His voice is brusque, causing a shiver in my shoulders.

I’m torn between wanting to obey his every command and being the brattiest brat to ever brat just to see if he’d punish me. Uh-oh, we’re in trouble.

I listen hard, and there’s a comfort in hearing his breathing on the other end of the line. Minutes pass as I head towards his fancy hotel.

“Hey, what room are you in? Where will I meet you?”

“I’ll get you at the entrance,” he says briskly, and I can hear movement.

“You don’t need to do that. I can come straight to you.”

The entrance is still a few hundred metres away when a large figure steps out onto the street, looking both ways.

“That’s you, isn’t it?” I ask into the phone.

He doesn’t reply, but the figure jogs towards me.

I let out a low whistle when he gets close enough for me to take in the sight of his grey sweatpants.

And my breath escapes me when he gets closer still and the clear imprint of his cock is outlined in them.

I press my lips together, but a chuckle still lets loose.

I pull the phone away from my ear, not even looking at the screen when I hit the end call button, riveted by the sway of his bulge as he jogs ever closer.

I come to a complete stop, wanting to stretch out this sight for as long as possible.

He slows down as he gets close and comes to a stop right in front of me.

“Hi,” I squeak in the direction of his crotch, which I’m sure has started pointing at me.

“Eyes are up here, Pixie,” comes his sardonic drawl.

I pout for a second, sending a telepathic message to his dick that I’ll be seeing him properly soon before I drag my eyes up over his torso, clad in a zip up hoodie, chest hair poking above the top of the zip.

I finally meet his eyes and bite my lip at the look I see there.

There’s sarcasm in his expression mixed with so much heat I can’t quite understand why we’re not both engulfed in flames right now.

“Hey,” I greet his face this time.

“Come on, menace.” He wraps a beefy arm around my shoulder, drawing me close into a half hug before leading us both back up the path to the hotel entrance.

“You keep calling me menace. You know my name is Pixie.” The side eye he gives me causes flutters low in my belly.

“They both suit you.” His voice is pitched low, and I swear my pussy weeps at his accent. This man and his voice are going to be the end of me. He changes the subject. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah. I had a meal from the kitchen about half seven. Tom’s obsession with feeding people is similar to yours.” I do nothing to hold back the eye roll.

“Excuse me for checking you weren’t going to faint on me again, like some kind of Victorian maiden.”

“I hardly fainted. I just got a little dizzy, is all.”

“Well, it’s not happening again on my watch. Who’s Tom?” He shoots the question, his gaze focused on my face.

“My boss.”

“And he feels the need to check you’re well-fed?” We’ve reached the entrance now, and it’s even fancier than I remember, with a red carpet rolled down over the steps. Despite the late hour, there’s a doorman dressed in a suit with brass buttons.

“Mr Macleod.” He nods at Cam as he opens the door for us. He doesn’t look at me at all.

“Thanks, Harry,” Cam says as we enter the lobby.

More marble floors and chandeliers. Cam is clearly some kind of snob about where he stays.

This place is just as fancy as the place I met him and Saff in Glasgow.

I still can’t work out if he actually lived there or if it was a hotel room.

And I’ve thought about that a lot over the last few months.

“You really like fancy places, huh?”

“I appreciate good architecture. It comes with the job.” He gives a shrug.

“Is this what The Juniper will look like when you guys are done with it?” I ask, unable to hold back my curiosity.

“Not the whole building. It’s going to be something of a mix. The foundations will all be based on the period it was built in. But there’s going to be various functions and the decor will depend on the purpose.”

I could listen to him talk all night. His voice equally soothing and arousing at the same time; kind of like being the little spoon and being fucked to sleep.

“You want to stop at the bar for a drink, Pixie?” he asks in a husky tone.

I shake my head. “I want a tour of your room.”

The smile that lifts each corner of his mouth is filthy.