Page 15 of Play to Win
That should’ve been enough to take his mind off Portia, but it wasn’t. He grabbed the book and climbed out of the truck. He entered through the side door with the key card that was only assigned to leaseholders and made his way to the steps. His unit was on the second floor at the far end of the hall, as far away from the other six tenants living in the building as possible. Noah was a former Hollywood stuntman. He’d inherited this building from his grandfather who’d won it in a poker game. The building stood vacant until Noah’s return to town a little over a year ago. He hadn’t wanted to sell, so Ethan suggested he turn it into loft apartments and make a profit. In exchange for the idea and his help in renovating the place, Ethan became the first leaseholder. Noah had a unit on the first floor near the management office.
Ethan entered his home, locked the door, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and went to his room. He set the beer on his nightstand and switched on the lamp. Then, he sat on the bed and held that book in his hands. He wasn’t going to read a book. Not that he hadn’t in the past, but it wasn’t one of his preferred hobbies. The Yankees and the Orioles were playing tonight, and he’d bet Lance on the winner. He also had some supply order slips to input into the accounting system Rock insisted they all learn how to navigate. He could take a shower and fix something to eat. The club sandwich he’d had a few hours ago at the bar wasn’t enough to hold his appetite. Or he could watch a movie, possibly something on Netflix.
Ethan didn’t have to read this book.
But he did.
He took off his shoes and lay back on his bed, reading page after page, until his curiosity and the arousal churning inside him forced him to reach for his phone. He’d gotten her number from a friend he used to work with and no it wasn’t ethical. But Ethan was no longer bound by the sacred oath taken upon admission to the Secret Service, nor did he give a damn about the lack of ethics of anyone in that organization. Not after what happened a year ago.
He dialed Portia’s number and waited for her to answer. The moment she did, he spoke because Ethan could no longer hold back his questions.
“Chapter 5, Part 1 reads: What you say is just as important as what you do. Is that correct, Portia?” he asked and waiting anxiously for her response.
“Ethan?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “You missed one of your books on the porch. I’ve been reading it and I have questions. In the back there’s an email address and a post office box for questions to be sent, but I figured I’d just call.”
“How’d you get my number?” She didn’t sound as irritated as he figured she could’ve, so that was a good sign.
He thought about lying, but then figured what was the point? Lies always led to trouble anyway.
“One of my former colleagues in D.C. helped me out on that front,” he replied.
She didn’t respond.
“I apologize if you feel that’s intrusive and mostly out of line,” he continued. “You’re probably right if that’s what you’re thinking. But I wanted a way to communicate with you. I wasn’t sure I’d actually use it, until now.”
She still didn’t speak.
He could hear her breathing. She was trying to remain neutral, professional maybe. Probably preparing to tell him it was just a book and not to call her again. Damn, he prayed he was wrong about the latter. More than anything, he wanted an answer from her. A real, satisfying answer.
“Yes,” she replied finally, her voice a breathy whisper that made his dick sit up and take notice.
“So we could talk on this phone and it would draw us closer to one another. It would make us feel as if we were long lost lovers, coming back together again.”
She cleared her throat. “Words have power. That’s the meaning of Chapter 5. In the instance of intimacy, they have the power to break down mental and sometimes physical barriers between a couple. They also have the power to provide each participant with the steps necessary to find their mutual pleasure.”
Her voice sounded so husky and sexy, he almost groaned. Words had power alright. Everything she’d just said was in her book. They were words that she’d typed and an editor had read and approved. Yet they were also making his body heat, his muscles tense and yes, his dick grow harder.
“So what I say from this point on could lead us both to pleasure?”
She didn’t immediately respond.
“When I kissed you the other night, I couldn’t help but think of how sweet your lips tasted,” he told her. “Are your other lips as sweet? If I suck on them, will you come in my mouth?”
Her breathing was audibly faster and so was his. His dick was so hard now it pressed painfully against the zipper of his pants. Not even wanting to relive that pain he’d experienced at the hotel; he yanked the zipper down. Reaching into the slit of his boxers, he freed his aching dick, wrapping his fingers around its girth.
“Answer me, Portia. I want to hear your powerful words. Tell me how I can find my pleasure.”
His voice had grown deeper, huskier and seemed loud in the solace of his dimly lit bedroom. Was he really on this phone talking sex to this woman he hadn’t seen since they were teenagers? And what exactly did he expect her to do? Answer him? Have phone sex with him? He probably needed a good stiff drink instead of a stiff dick in his hands and a hot woman on the other end of this phone.
He’d begun stroking his cock, starting at the base and moving slowly upward until his thumb and finger ran over the sensitive head. She was still breathing heavily and Ethan needed to hear her voice as much as he needed to release the climax that had been building since he’d watched her giving that blow job demonstration.
“I’m wet,” she replied in the barest of whispers.
If he’d blinked, he may not have heard her, but he had, and he figured it would take less than sixty seconds and a few more words from her to have him making a mess in his hand.
