Page 13 of In Knots

Silence again. He’s probably thinking up a way to end this call. I still don’t understand why he kissed me. I’m sure I’m not his type and he sure as hell shouldn’t be mine.

I chew my lip, hearing his heavy breathing down the phone, and wondering what the hell to say to him. I don’t want to hang up, just his deep, gravelly voice has that thrill skipping through my body.

“I can’t stop thinking about that kiss,” he says finally, his voice even lower. I don’t answer but I wonder if he can hear my breath coming in little needy pants. “I’m hoping you can’t either. I want you thinking of me, of me kissing you.”

“I am,” I admit.

“It was a good kiss, then?” he asks, with a hint of amusement.

“Yes,” I sink lower in the bed, cradling my phone closer to my ear. This conversation feels dangerous, like I might be playing with fire, like this alpha might burn my fingers. He’s too hot; far, far too hot. But I’m like a moth to the flame.

“You like me pressed up against your sweet, little body, sliding my tongue into your mouth, you liked it when I pressed my hand against your gland.”

“Yes,” I wet my lips, “I did. And I liked kissing you back.”

That chuckle again. “Tell me, princess, am I making you wet, talking about this? Am I making those knickers of yours all creamy?”

I gasp. Alphas have said crude things to me before, whispered comments in my ears as I’ve passed them, when we’ve been crammed together in a lift or when our parents have left the room. I can tell they’ve done it to shock me, throw me off my guard. They like making me uncomfortable. This is different.

“You don’t like it when I talk dirty to you?” he asks. It’s a genuine question. The tease in his voice gone.

“I don’t know … but I think … yes, I do.”

“Good,” he says, “because I like talking dirty to you, little one. Like the idea, I’m making you wetter.” That thrill of excitement swoops low in my belly.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “I don’t need any encouragement.” I hear him lick his lips and blow out air through his nostrils. “I tell you what, princess. Let’s make a deal here. I’ll keep whispering dirty things in your ear, if you promise to touch yourself while I’m doing it. Can you do that for me?”

I screw up my eyes. I don’t know how he knew, because, yes, I am wet and getting wetter by the second, everything between my legs starting to pulse. “Yes, Alpha,” I reply.

“Good girl. Good girl. Love it when you call me alpha.”

Am I about to have phone sex? With a man, I barely know? A man my parents would never let me be in the same room with, let alone date.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to tell me just how wet you are. I want you to dip your fingers between your legs and tell me.”

I slide my right hand into my knickers, over my mound to my folds.

“Are you doing it, Omega?”

“Yes,” I breathe, “I’m touching myself now.” I slip my fingers between my folds feeling wet slick.

“And? Are you wet?”

“Yes, very wet …” I take a breath, finding my bravery. “You’re making me wet.” I’ve never been that forward, that blatant with an alpha before.

“I know I am, princess,” he says with a cockiness that has my core fluttering. “Here’s what I want you to do next. Smother your finger in your slick and taste it for me. I want to know how it tastes.”

“Oh.”

“You never tasted yourself before?” I blush, unable to respond. More silence. “But you’ve touched yourself before.”

“Yes,” I murmur.

“Made yourself come?”

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