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“And you’re doing this all out of the goodness of your heart and not because you want to play chaperone while I’m taking pictures of the shirtless, hot guys, right?”
“Absolutely.” His tone was pure innocence, but she knew him better than that.
“Forget it. You’d just clam jam me.” She restrained her giggle at the silence that followed her comment, then he gave into curiosity.
“I give,” he said. “What the hell is a clam jam?”
“Female equivalent of a cock block.”
Blake snorted with laughter. “God. There is something seriously twisted and wrong with you. I blame it on all those brothers you grew up with.”
She leaned back in her chair, propping her feet up on the one across from her. She was smiling and happy for the first time in days. In less than five minutes, Blake had found a way to make the stress she was feeling over her work vanish and the tension in her shoulders subsided.
“So I see I missed your call. You putting off our date again?”
She had called him for that reason. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m wicked busy.”
“I understand.”
“Hey listen, I need to try to find a time to do your photo shoot. Are you still determined to take the pictures on your Harley by the lake?”
“Yep. And you’re riding with me.”
“I told you, Blake, my equipment—”
“Downsize it as much as you can. I borrowed a big-ass motorcycle bag from a friend of mine. We can put your cameras and stuff in there.”
“What if it rains? My equipment costs—”
He cut her off. “It’s waterproof.”
“Why do you want me to get on that bike again so badly?”
“Why are you so resistant?”
Chloe wasn’t sure how to answer. They’d spent that entire summer so long ago on his motorcycle. It was the last time she’d felt carefree, wild, over-the-moon happy. He’d also driven off into the sunset on that motorcycle. While it wasn’t logical, it was easier to forgive Blake, the cop, the man who didn’t exist all those years ago, and hold on to her anger toward his bad-boy biker persona.
“I just don’t think they’re safe.”
Blake snorted at her obvious lie. “What day did you leave open for me?”
“Let me see. I’m popping over to Justin’s office this afternoon to take the pictures of Ned.”
“No box of chocolates in bed?”
Chloe thought she detected the slightest trace of relief in Blake’s voice. “He wouldn’t go for that. The most he would agree to was an open shirt with a tie hanging around his neck. We thought it would look cool if he was sitting at the head of a conference table. Set it up for today because none of the employees will be in the office since it’s a Saturday.”
“Sounds very tasteful.”
No doubt she and Justin had given him a bad impression of what the calendar was about. Truth was all the pictures would be PG with none of the men exposing more than their chests and arms. Her musician had been sitting sideways on his piano bench, shirtless, in a vest and simple black pants as he toyed with a couple of keys. While she’d selected the shot she wanted to use, she’d come down with the flu before she could tweak the print.
“It’s going to be a classy calendar.”
“Of mimbos,” he added.
She frowned, then a light went on. “You were eavesdropping on my phone call with Mama that first day.”
“Yep.”
She grinned wickedly. “Well, if you’re expecting me to take it back or revise my opinion, I won’t.”
Blake chuckled. “You will. Eventually. I’ll make sure of it.”
His deeply spoken threat was laced with just a hint of sexual malice. Chloe grew wet and warm at the thought of it. She pressed her legs together, suddenly annoyed at the way Blake could turn her into a raving sex maniac in mere seconds.
“In fact, what are you wearing right now?”
Chloe wanted to ignore his question, but that damn dirty book he’d given her had fired up some needs she really wanted taken care off. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed after her shower, just donning her robe.
She decided to play hard to get. “Why do you want to know?”
“Tell me, Chloe.”
“Just a robe.”
“Nothing under it?”
She shook her head, trying to ignore how hot his questions were making her. “Nothing.”
“Slip it open, but keep it on.”
Chloe rested her phone between her shoulder and head as she untied the belt around her robe.
She heard Blake chuckle softly. “There’s this feature on cells called speakerphone. Turn it on and put your phone down where you can still hear me. You’re going to need both hands.”
“Blake,” she started.
“Just do it.”
“Where are you?” she asked, suddenly worried about him initiating phone sex with her in the middle of the precinct.
“I’m at home. On my couch. Just got off-duty.”
She turned the speakerphone on and placed the cell on the table. “Okay.”
“Where are you in your apartment?”
“My kitchen table.”
“Nice. I want you to do what I tell you. Follow my instructions completely. If I suspect you’re cheating, I’ll come over there, toss you over my knee, and paint your ass red with my hand until you learn to obey.”
The feminist part of her was outraged and tempted to hang up on him, but, at the moment, her libido was currently making all decisions.
Blake appeared to have interpreted her silence correctly. “We both want the same thing right now.” His voice sounded more distant. Apparently he’d put her on speakerphone as well.
“What are you doing now?” she asked.
“Unzipping my jeans.”
She licked her lips, sorry she hadn’t suggested postponing her meeting with Ned and inviting Blake over.
Before she could make the offer, Blake took charge. “Cup your breasts. Lift them up and squeeze them.”
Chloe dragged her hands along her stomach, surprised by the sudden sensitivity of her skin. How could Blake get her to this point with no more than a few words? She held her breasts, her nipples budded, ready.
“Squeeze them hard. There’s no point in denying you don’t like your pleasure laced with pain.”
Her face flushed, the response caused by embarrassment and need. She’d tried to hide her darker kinks from other lovers, always feeling slightly strange for her desires. She’d never had to do that with Blake. He’d just seen what she wanted and given it to her. No questions, no qualms. Hell, most of the time it seemed as if he wanted it even more than she did. Something she didn’t think possible.
She applied the pressure to her breasts, pinching her nipples roughly. Her breathing grew heavier.
“Are you touching your nipples?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Pinch them hard. Let me hear that pretty whimper of yours.”
She tightened her fingers, suddenly self-conscious of her sounds.
Blake’s voice when he spoke again, seemed breathless. “You can take more pain. Stop holding back.”
She gave in to the desire, pinching her nipples harder than she’d ever dared. The sharp sting sent zings of pure pulsing arousal straight to her pussy. She pressed her legs together to capture the heat and moisture.
“Are you wet, Chloe?”
“God.” She felt lightheaded with need. “Yes.”
“I’m so hard right now. My hand is wrapped around my cock, but it’s not the same as being inside you.”
“Come over.” The invitation was out before she could consider why she shouldn’t issue it.
“I can’t. You have to go to work soon. We’re just going to have to let this be enough for now.”
This was nowhere near enough. Chloe fought to restrain her brief flash of temper, a disposition her mother said she’d inherited from Papa Lewis. Like her father, she was prone to impatience and while their tempers ran hot, they usually only blazed hot for a moment before they were able to rein it back in. “Dammit, Blake.”
“Shh. It’s time to get serious. Keep one hand on your breast, while you drop the other lower. I want you to tell me how hot and wet your pussy is for me.”
She obeyed his request, opening her legs. She drew her fingers along the seam, gasping at the sensations provoked by that simple touch. “Oh,” she cried.
“You sound so sexy, Chloe. God, baby, you have no idea what you’re doing to me. The head of my cock is seeping come and my balls are tight. We’re going to have to move fast. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold off.”
The gruffness of his voice told her he was telling the truth. Chloe wasn’t worried. It wouldn’t take much to push her over at this point.
“Rub your clit. Push your fingers against it hard and fast.”
Chloe did as he asked. She groaned then released her breast, using her free hand to grasp the edge of the kitchen table. She needed something to hold on to, to keep her grounded.
“My cock is going to explode. Are you close?”
“Yes,” she hissed, her fingers familiar with this motion. She was no stranger to masturbation and she knew all too well how to get herself off. Even so, this was way faster and so much hotter than anything she’d ever done. Knowing Blake was on the other end of the phone, imagining his hand stroking his own cock, his head thrown back against his couch with his eyes closed. It was as if he was sitting right in front of her, each of them performing their shows in person.
