Page 62 of Corkscrew You
“We’re opposites,” says Nate, in a tone I can’t quite decipher.
“Notthatopposite,” I counter. “Not in the essentials.”
I swear, he groans on the other end, like his leg’s gone to sleep, and he’s now gritting his teeth through the pins and needles.
“Shel, I’ve got to go, before I do something I regret,” he says.
“No, stay!” I plead, though I’ve got no valid argument beyond my own desire to stay on the line with him.
“Shel, seriously,” he says. “Bed is abadplace to be right now. I’m having … inappropriate thoughts. It’d be stupid to act on them. Defeats the whole purpose of putting us on hold.”
I can’t fault his reasoning. I should respect his wishes, and not try to compromise him. That’s unfair, and wrong.
But that’s my conscience speaking, and right at this moment, it’s being pummelled into submission by my libido, which is dialled up to eleven. My free hand is stealing downwards, and even if Nate insists on hanging up, I know whatI’llbe doing for the next short while.
Oh, boy, I make contact, and a little moan escapes.
“Fucking hell,” I hear him mutter. “OK, shit, just … wait a moment. I have to…”
I hear rustling, the thump of shoes being discarded, a creak of bedsprings.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Shitno,” he breathes. “This isnuts.”
“Well, you’d better get ready pronto,” I say. “Because I’ve got a two-minute head start.”
ChapterTwenty-Two
NATE
Ihave to confess it’s not the first time I’ve done something like this in this room.Definitelythe first time there’s been a phone and someone else involved.
At least I had the presence of mind to lock the door. Bad enough being in my childhood bedroom. Don’t want one of my siblings barging in (as has happened before – thanks Dan, did you forget how toknock?). Or, worse, my mother (never happened, thank Christ).
It’s not that easy with a phone. Can hardly put it on speaker, though. And too late to ask Max to borrow his hi-tech headphones. Last time he saw me naked, I’d have been ten, and he’d have been four. And certain parts of me would have been more … modestly displayed.
Fuck, my cock is hard. It sprung to attention the instant Shelby let out that moan, and a lot of blood that should be powering my brain went immediately south.
Hence I’m stroking with one hastily-lotioned hand, while the other presses my mobile to my ear, listening to sounds that I swear will make me shoot my load in about twenty seconds.
Shit, almighty, what is shedoing? I suspect my imagination is more vivid than the reality, but still … holy hell.
“Shel,” I whisper. “Speak to me.”
“I’m picturingyou,” she says, all breathless.
“So I’d hope,” I remark.
She rightly ignores me. “You’re fully dressed…”
Wrong.
“…and you’re tying my hands to the bedpost, with pieces of soft rope…”
Wait,what?
“I can’t move,” she goes on. “But I’mdesperatefor you, sowetand hot. I’m lifting myself up off the bed,beggingfor you to come inside me…”
