Page 37 of Call Me Anytime
Holy hell.I’m not sure how she manages it, but these calls are simultaneously the highest form of torture and entertainment.
I’ll be honest, when this sting is over, casework is probably going to seem incredibly boring after sitting in on Hannah’s calls.
“Oh, fuck. I can feel how wet you are.”
“Of course. We’re going to need a mop too,” Hannah continues, sticking with the theme of cleaning supplies. “A mop for my WAP.”
I sit back and buckle in for the ride I know this is going to be. There’s no other option.
“Maybe it hurts too?” Waylon suggests, and my ears perk up. Hoping for pain over pleasure takes this in a bit of a different direction than I was thinking it would go and raises some suspicion.
While there wasn’t any brutality involved in Heather’s and Gwen’s cases, so often these guys start where they feel at ease and escalate from there. If Waylon is into the idea of pain, that might be the next thing on his agenda.
I roll my hand in front of Hannah’s face, cuing her to keep him going if she can, and she sits up straighter in her chair, concentrating.
“Yeah, it is so big, so it does hurt some.”
“How much?” Waylon asks, and I hold up a finger pointing to the ceiling.
“A lot,” she says. “It hurts a lot.”
“Good,” Waylon groans. “I want it to hurt. I want to fuck you until you bleed. I want you screaming, baby. I don’t want you to be able to walk.”
Hannah’s jaw drops, but I put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Her wide, vulnerable eyes lock on mine, and for a split second, all the chaos around us seems to fall away. In that moment, all I can feel is an overwhelming pull to shield her.
A large part of me wants to end the fucking call. Or, even more dramatically, wants to get on the line and tell Waylon he’s a piece of shit. But instead, I force myself to focus on the job, giving her a calming smile and a thumbs-up while I mouth, “Just keep going. Hang in there. You’re doing good.”
“I ... uh ... I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for days,” she whispers. “I’m already feeling so sore.”
“Take it anyway,” Waylon demands. “And if you try to run, I’m just going to tie you down and fuck you even harder.”
What a fucking sicko.
I look at Hannah’s face, assessing her current state of mind. Of course I want her to keep going because of the possible information we can get from this fuck, but the last thing I’m going to do is push her to do something that’s making her way too uncomfortable.
“I am,” Hannah says, surprising the hell out of me. Her expression is that of raw determination. “Anything you say. I can take it.”
This woman ... I swear, she’s so strong it’s not even funny.
“That’s right,” Waylon grunts. “Ah, shit. I don’t want to come yet. I want to keep going until you break. Until I see your blood on my cock.”
“Just let yourself come,” Hannah encourages, massaging her temples as she starts to get overwhelmed again. I don’t blame her onebit. I rub her jeans-covered knee just a little—just enough to provide some comfort—and then retreat back into my space to give her hers.
Waylon groans through his climax, and Hannah doesn’t waste any time taking the out, ending the call with her standard goodbye: “Thanks for calling Ruby’s line and letting me make your dreams come true. Call me anytime!”
She smashes the button to hang up and yanks off her headset as she takes several deep breaths.
And I quickly switch her phone to “off duty” before it can start ringing again.
“Come on,” I say, my voice soft as I jerk my head toward the exit door. “Let’s go outside for a minute.”
She nods and stands, and I let her lead the way out of the cubicles, through the door, down the hall, into the stairwell, and out onto the sidewalk without saying much. She’s very obviously working through her feelings, and I intend to let her.
But I’ll be here if she needs me. That much I’m determined to make true.
15
Hannah
