Phone Sex

Elizabeth's POV

I need to get laid.

Staring at the blank white screen on my laptop I rub at my tired eyes. I had to resist the strong urge to hurl it across the room.

Three hours. Three bloody hours I've been staring at this empty word page and nothing. I swear to god that little blinking line was taunting me.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

My body was aching, strung out. Under normal circumstances I could use my sexual frustrations to my advantage, venting it out on the page. My readers loved a good sex scene, and I did my best work when I was chomping at the bit. But this is ridiculous. I couldn't concentrate.

My body craved sex like a man in the desert craves water. Fidgeting on the couch I try to remember the last time I actually had real sex, not just in my mind fantasy sex.

I have to count on my fingers. No, that can't be right. I count again.

Yup, nearly three years.

A romance author that hasn't been laid in three years...I hate myself.

Slumping back on the couch I mindlessly watch an episode of Friends on Netflix. I always have the T.V. on when I write, not to watch, just to listen. I can't stand the silence of my big empty apartment.

Glancing around I take in the barren shelving and plain furniture. Did I really own so little? Loneliness and frustration mix in with my raging hormones. It's a vicious cycle.

Maybe I should call Eric...

As soon as that thought enters my brain I cringe. I know I shouldn't feel put off by the idea of calling my boyfriend, but Eric is just so...boring. Like his name. Eric Williams. I know just how the night would play out, Eric focused on his video games, me staring aimlessly at my laptop.

Boring with a capital B.

Just break up with him, that nagging little voice inside my brain says for the umpteenth time. The very idea scares me. What if I never find anyone else?

Frowning, I look down at my body, plucking at my baggy pink sweater. I'm what the politically correct world calls 'plus size'. Which to me is just a nice way of saying big hips, big tits, big ass. My belly has never been flat, not even when I was a kid. I did take care with my appearance, my thick brown hair is always shining, my makeup never out of place. I like to think I'm pretty, but men weren't exactly lining up for my number.

When I hit thirty I felt it was time to settle. Any moment I was going to start adopting cats. Eric had been my fall back. He was dependable, well rounded, safe.

And he has absolutely no sex drive. Nothing killed a woman's self-confidence like a floppy dick.

"Arg!" Slumping over I bury my face in the couch cushion, cheeks hot with embarrassment. Just the memory of his flaccid manhood stung. I never wanted to face such humiliation again.

Why can't Eric be more...well, more? Was that too much to ask? My body craved the touch of a man. A real man. Hot and masculine, pinning me against the wall, staring at me with open hunger. His hands big and rough.

Can't stand this.

I roll to my back, letting my hand slip inside my black leggings to tease aside my panties. I didn't usually masturbate. It was never enough. The orgasm - when I managed to have one - was always short and weak, leaving me unsatisfied. But right now, fuck it. I'm so wet, aching painfully.

My finger brushes over my wetness, the stab of pleasure making me moan. I may actually come this time...

The cordless phone chooses that moment to ring right next to my head. I nearly jump out of my skin, yelping softly, and staring around the empty living room in embarrassment. I half expected a little man to jump out and say, "Caught ya!"

Damn it. Of all times. Few people called the main line.

Snatching up the phone I nearly drop it, jamming the call button. "H-Hello?" God, is that my voice, all husky and thick? I even sound horny.

There's a pause before a male voice rumbles, "I'm calling for Claire."

Oh, fuck. Sexy. That's the only way to describe the deep bliss caressing my ear. Sexy as sin. "Uh..."

"Claire Jones? Is this the wrong number?" He seems agitated, which strangely makes him sound even hotter.

Claire...? Claire! That's right. My roommate. Best friend. Editor. Well, ex-roommate. "She's-" My voice cracks. Wincing, I clear my throat. "She's on her honeymoon."

Another pause. "I didn't realize she was engaged." He didn't sound upset, more amused.

"They eloped actually." I just keep the sting out of my voice. It wasn't like I was jealous. Claire married the love of her life - a rich handsome European - who was gallivanting her around the world...

And I'm sitting at home, horny as fuck, watching re-runs on Netflix. Nope, I wasn't jealous at all.

"I see," he says. "Who is this?"

"Elizabeth Reed."

"The romance author?"

Shit. "Yes."

"It's a pleasure," he says politely.

That catches me off guard. He wasn't bombarding me with questions - What's it like to meet Oprah? Why haven't you published in over two years? Can I have a signed copy for my girlfriend?

Crap, did he have a girlfriend? With a voice like that...of course he did. I have no clue what he looks like but Claire's male friends were always attractive. And if he looks even half as good as he sounds...

"Uh, thank you," I murmur, despondent.

"Claire speaks of you often."

"How do you know Claire?" I blurt, blushing.

He chuckles - the sound rough and hot - and I have to fight the strong urge to melt into the couch. My sex takes notice, wetness slicking up my panties. "Henry and I were roommates in college."

Henry is Claire's fancy new European husband...

My eyes widen. Jesus, this guy went to Harvard! "And Henry didn't tell you he was married?"

"Henry wouldn't think to announce it," he explains. I can hear the amusement in his tone. "He's a very intelligent man, but his social skills are humorously lacking. When did they tie the knot?"

"A few weeks ago," I say huskily.

"Interesting. Can I ask you a question, Elizabeth?"

I shiver, my name was a rumble in his throat. "Ellie..." I breathe. "Everyone just calls me Ellie. You d-don't have too. I was just saying." Your voice is the sexiest thing in the world. If you were standing in front of me I'd beg you to fuck me right now.

He laughs softly. "Can I ask you a question, Ellie?"

"Y-Yes?"

"Do you always sound this turned on, or is it just me?"

My jaw drops. "I'm not...I don't..." Deny...deny...oh, screw it. Blushing furiously, I mutter, "Is it that obvious?"

"Very," he grunts. "Your voice is incredibly sexy. I've had a hard on since the minute you answered the damn phone."

"Really?" I choke.

"Hard as fuck," he grates. "I want to fist my cock and listen to you come. Can I do that, Ellie?"

Holy, crap!

I have to squeeze my thighs to stop the intense ache. No one has ever spoken to me like that. Ever. "You're a pervert."

"I swear I'm not. I've never done this before. I can't seem to help it." He exhales loudly. "You have the sexiest voice I've ever heard."

Licking my lips my hand tightens on the phone. "I thought the same thing. About your voice I mean."

There is a pause before he rasps, "You like my voice, baby?"

Baby. My stomach flops. Another first for me. I've always wondered what it would be like to be called baby, feminists be damned. "Yes."

"Does it turn you on?"

I shouldn't answer. I should hang up. "Yes."

"Are you wet for me?"

I bite back a moan. I am wet for him. "I s-should go..." I stammer, making no move to hang up the phone. This is exciting me beyond logical thought.

"Let me hear you come, Ellie," he says softly. My heart jumps at his tone. It was more of an order than a request.

"I c-can't." The words were a whisper, forced around the thick lust constricting my throat.

He hisses in a breath. "Why not?"

Yes, why not, Ellie? Why. The. Fuck. Not?

"I have a boyfriend."

"So?"

"So, I have a boyfriend."

"Obviously he isn't caring for your needs," he says bluntly. "Dump him."

"You c-can't tell m-me what to do." Damn it, stop stuttering. This is why I write, because when I open my mouth the words come out a jumbled mess.

He ignores me. "Where is he, this boyfriend?"

Home, playing video games, not thinking about me. "Out."

"Out," he repeats the word as if it were foul. "If you were mine I wouldn't be out. I'd be fucking you until you screamed. Then I'd do it again."

A needy sound escapes my throat. My cheeks flame with embarrassment.

"You like that idea, don't you, baby?"

My palm rubs between my legs, desperate to relieve the ache. I did like that idea. So much. "I should g-go."

"You keep saying that," he growls. "Would you like to know how hard I am for you, Ellie?"

He's hard for me. For me. My badly damaged ego soars "How hard?"

"Painfully hard," he rasps. "Each time I hear your voice my cock leaks. Feels like steel in my fist."

"You're...you're..."

"Jerking off? Hell, yea." How could he be so blunt? "What are you wearing?"

"Wearing?" I repeat dumbly. Apparently my brain decided stopped functioning.

"Can I guess?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "You're all alone. I doubt you worry about impressing the dip shit boyfriend. I'm guessing a big comfy sweater and leggings?"

I stare down at myself with shock. Talk about hitting the nail on the head. "Can you see me?"

He laughs, the sound low and strained. "I was right?"

"Shut up."

"Don't get upset. I bet you look sexy as hell," he drawls. "Can I hear you come, Ellie?"

Oh god...oh god. Excitement and desire are waging war in my belly, making me feel sick. I didn't even know his name. And I didn't care. I would never speak with him again, never meet him in person.

Why shouldn't I enjoy this?

"Yes," I whimper.

"That's my girl. Take off your sweater." The authority in his voice has my hands reaching for the hem of my sweater, tearing it off. The cool air of the apartment hits my breasts, swollen and heavy. My nìpples physically ache to be sucked.

Placing the phone back to my ear I try to control my breathing. Because this is definitely happening. I'm going to have phone sex with this man. A stranger.

"Is it off?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Are you wearing a bra?"

"N-No," I whisper.

He makes a harsh sound. My stomach flips. "No bra. That's very naughty."

"I d-don't like them," I answer truthfully. As soon as I walk through the front door the first thing I do is take off my bra. Hell, I'd probably go naked if the sight of my own body didn't make me cringe.

"Take off your pants," he orders.

Swallowing hard I obey, cradling the phone between my shoulder and chin. My hands shake as I slip my leggings over my hips and tug them off my feet. "Okay."

"Good girl. Where are you?"

"I'm on t-the couch."

"Lie back and put me on speakerphone."

Settling back on the soft cushions I lay the phone close to my head, afraid to even move. My heart is slamming in my chest, my damn thighs shaking. I want this so bad. "What now?"

"You sound very turned on, Ellie. Do you like being told what to do?"

"No one's ever..." Shit, I didn't know what to say. "I like it when you tell me."

"Fuck," he grunts. His breathing is harsh, his low voice rougher than before. "You have no idea what you're doing to me. I'm fighting not to come like a god damn teenager."

"I'm sorry." Totally not sorry.

"Play with your tits."

Reaching up I cup and squeeze my breasts, moaning at how good it feels. My hips undulate, my weeping sex desperate for attention. "God."

"Does that feel good, baby?"

"Yes," I keen.

"Good. Tug on those pretty nìpples for me. I bet they ache, don't they?"

"Yes." Shaking, I pinch the hard peaks between my fingers, twisting and tugging.

"Yea? You want me to take them in my mouth, suck them hard?"

My back arches. "Yes!"

"But I'm not there. What are we going to do about that?"

I turn my head, panting into the phone as my fingers tease my nìpples to a painful ache. "Tell me."

"Ah, fuck, Ellie," he groans. "Suck them for me, baby. Nice and hard. Imagine it's me."

I gasp. I've never done that before. "I don't know what you l-look like."

"Six-two. Black hair. Grey eyes."

He sounds perfect. I moan.

"That's it," he grates. "Now suck those nìpples for me."

Lifting my breast to my mouth I wrap my lips around the hard peak and suck. The pleasure is shocking, my eyes sliding shut. Immediately the vision of a dark head hovering over my breasts fills my mind.

My free hand drifts over the curve of my stomach, cupping my damp sex. My back bows with a deep groan as I rock my hips against my hand. "Shit."

"Are you touching yourself, baby?"

I bite my lip guiltily. "Yes."

"Bad girl. I didn't say you could touch yourself," he chides roughly.

"Please," I beg.

"Are you still wearing panties?"

"Yes."

"Take them off and finger that pretty clìt of yours."

I nearly tear the silk fabric from my body. My thighs fall open, my fingers sliding between the damp folds. Just one small touch on that swollen bundle of nerves has me jerking my hips. I've never felt anything so intense.

The sound in my throat is one I don't recognize, torn between a cry and a sob.

"Easy," he breathes. "Does it feel good?"

I'm beyond caring. Beyond shame. "Yes. It's so good."

"Put a finger inside," he orders. I do as I'm told, the loud resulting moan making him snarl. "Tell me what your pussy feels like."

"It's hot, and wet." My finger presses deeper, stretching my neglected flesh. "Tight."

"Shit." His harsh breathing fills my ears like a caress, turning me on even more. "Add another."

A second joins the first. "God." My fingers have never felt so good. But it isn't enough. Not even close. I've never been so turned on, so in need to be filled.

It strikes me that this might be my only chance to feel this way. The realization intensifies my need, makes me desperate. I want this man, here. Now. I want it to be his hands on me. I want it to be him making me come. I want him to fill me up, take away the emptiness.

A soft desperate sound escapes my lips.

"What's the matter, baby?" he asks huskily. "You don't enjoy your fingers?"

"They are t-too small," I whimper. I can't go deep enough, hard enough. Worst of all my fingers aren't him. "I just...I w-wish-" My throat closes up, my eyes welling with emotion.

"You wish I was there," he answers for me. "I know. I want to touch you too. I want to lick your sweet pussy and make you come."

"Oh, god," I moan. Every word he spoke was a spear of pleasure to my throbbing sex.

"You're making me so hot," he rumbles. "I want to fill you up with my cock, over and over. I'd take you so fucking hard, harder than you've ever had in your life."

"Shit!" I hiss. His words send me straight to the edge.

"You gonna come?"

"Yes!"

"Tell me. Tell me when you come, Ellie."

My hips buck, my mind filled with his voice. He's praising me, telling me how sexy I am, how turned on he is. I shut my eyes, the pleasure overwhelming, my finger working a torturous rhythm. Head thrashing on the couch the moans of my pleasure fill the empty apartment.

"God damn, the sounds you're making," he rasps. I hear a loud thump, like a fist hitting a wall. "You're killing me. I want inside you. I want to feel you come."

The way he talks! Every nerve ending in my body shoots bolts straight to my aching clìt. I feel it, like a tidal wave. I'm going to come, hard. So. Fucking. Hard.

I just manage to gasp, "I'm coming."

"That's my girl. Come hard for me," he orders. "Now."

That was it. That final command pushes me over. The pleasure hits me, an endless wave. I cry out, toes curling, unable to stop my fingers from bringing me higher. "Oh, y-yes. Coming," I keen.

"Ah, fuck!" he shouts, sexy low grunts of pleasure sounding over the phone. "God damn. God. Fucking. Damn."

I squeeze my thighs, tearing my hand way, unable to take anymore. The orgasm recedes, leaving me weak and shaking. Tears prick my eyes as emotions well in my chest.

That was the best climax of my life.

Turning to my side I suck in a deep breath, trying to calm down. I can hear his harsh breathing on the other end. After a moment he takes a deep breath and asks roughly, "You still with me?"

I have to clear my throat before I can speak. "I think so."

He chuckles. "That was intense."

You're telling me. Suddenly, I'm filled with overwhelming gratitude. This man just gave me something I'd craved, something I didn't think I'd ever experience. "Thank you," I whisper.

He pauses on the other end. "Break up with your boyfriend," he states quickly.

My mouth drops as my head shoots up. "What?"

"You heard me. He's an ass. End it."

Anxiety claws up my spine, because I want to do just that. "You can't just t-tell me to b-break up."

He sighs. "It pisses me off that he doesn't take care of you."

My heart does a strange flutter in my chest. Resting my head back down on the couch I sigh. To think this all started with a wrong number. "Didn't you need to reach Claire?"

"It's fine. I'll email her."

"Okay." I shut my eyes, because they feel heavy. And because I feel an incredible ache in my chest and I don't want to cry and ruin the moment. I'm never going to speak to this man again and I hated it.

"You sound tired."

"Yea," I murmur. "Going to sleep."

"Good night, Ellie."

"Good night."

******

AN: Talk about starting things off with a bang. *wink wink*