Page 20 of Hotline
Am I really so different from the other men who call that place? I'm lonely. I have no one to talk to at night. I have no partner, no woman to come home to, nothing to make my life feel complete.
But I am different from those men. I amso fucking different.
I'll be the only man who speaks to her. The only man who gets to hear her sweet voice. The only man who gets to hold her.
She will never be someone I call in the middle of the night because I'm lonely. I want her to be the reason I'm never lonely again.
I slam my fist on my desk as I unzip my pants and pull out my bulging, aching cock, imagining it’s her soft, wet pussy instead.
I grind my fist up and down my bulging, aching length, smearing the leaking precum from the tip down to the base, and I cum after only a few strokes.
I fall back and sink deeper into my chair, but I’m not satisfied. This release has been meaningless.
This isn't what I want. I need more. I need her. All of her.
Talk isn’t cheap. It’s expensive. And when it comes to Opal, it is priceless.
I get myself cleaned up and head to the windows overlooking the city.
My empire. My lifeless empire.
It may as well all be a sandcastle or an entire city made of playing cards. That’s how tiny all of this feels, as though whatI’ve constructed was just artifice all along, something disposable and not worthy of another thought.
I pour myself a drink and try to drown out my thoughts, but it only seems to make me more restless. The amber liquid burns a path down my throat, warming my chest but doing nothing to ease the ache inside me. I swirl the crystal tumbler, watching how the rays of sunset catch in the glass, fracturing into tiny prisms across my skin.
The alcohol buzzes through my veins but fails to numb my desire. If anything, it peels back another layer of restraint. My phone sits on my desk, taunting me.
I don’t even know what I’m going to say. I’m at a loss for words when it comes to her.
I plow a hand through my hair and take a final sip of my drink.
I’d better think of something.
Chapter Nine
Opal
My phone sitsin the center of my desk.
It buzzes, Mr. Lennox’s name showing up on the screen.
This is it.
“Hello?” I purr, trying to make my voice sound as seductive as possible.
“Hey,” he says. He’s got the seductive rasp down pat.
“Are you lonely?” I dip a toe in, testing the waters. “Looking to make a connection on this gorgeous day?”
“I’m not lonely anymore,” he says.
My heart twists inside my chest.
“Looking for a special girl to talk to?”
“I’m already talking to her.”
I clutch the phone to my chest and bite my lip. Dude’s a cheeseball. Weird.
