How the hell did Conlon persuade me to do this? I swear, the man is mind-controlling me or something. He could get me to do anything. Here I am, a phone sex virgin, trying to prove to myself that I can resist, and…

Oh, fuck it. I’ll admit it. I’m seriously aroused by the idea.

So I do what he asked. I slip my hand between my legs and touch myself.

“Tell me, gorgeous girl. Are you very wet for me?” he asks.

“Very, very wet,” I reply, my voice a little hoarse.

“Good,” he replies. “Now comes the fun part. Close your eyes, Adriana.”

The combination of his voice, his accent, his words makes me shiver with delight. I shut my eyes.

“Now stroke your finger over your beautiful pussy for me.”

I follow orders.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “So good.”

“Are you imagining my mouth on you?”

I gasp, but I reply honestly. “Yes.”

“I’d like to be lapping at you right now,” he says, his voice soft and deep. “I’d like to stroke that sweet little clit of yours with the tip of my tongue.”

“I’d like that, too,” I breathe, slipping a finger over my bud, picturing his tongue there. “What are you doing?” I ask slightly awkwardly. I’m new at this.

“I’ve got my fingers wrapped around my shaft,” he replies, his tone far more confident than mine. “I’m stroking my very hard cock very, very slowly. Otherwise I might just come.”

“That would be terrible,” I say.

“I want you to come first,” he replies. “I want you to tell me when you’re close. Now put your fingers inside and slip them out again.”

I do just that. I’m so fucking wet, my pussy throbs for him.

For what I don’t have, what I can’t have.

“I’m rock hard for you, Adriana,” he tells me. “I wish I could be inside you right now.”

“Me too.”

“Make yourself come for me, Beautiful. I want you to.”

That’s not much of a challenge; I’m already so close. I hit the speaker button and drop the phone onto the sheets beside me, ready to cry out when it happens. My fingers work like I want his tongue to do, stroking my engorged clit in small, gentle circles. My pace quickens as I hear his voice.

“Oh, that’s beautiful, Adriana. Keep doing that for me.”

Keep doing what? How does he know what I’m doing?

I look towards the phone that’s lying a foot away from my right hip, and realize with utter horror that somehow I’ve hit the button for a two-way video chat.

Oh my God, I can see his face. And he can see me, too.

In the lower right corner of the screen is the image of what his eyes are taking in. The camera is aimed at my hips and waist, my forearm visible as I pleasure myself. Nothing too graphic, at least, but he can see clearly what I’m up to. Some part of me is turned on, knowing he’s watching. Another part is vaguely mortified.

As if to alleviate any embarrassment that I might feel, Conlon drags his phone’s camera down to his waist and shows me what’s happening in his own bedroom. His incredible swollen cock takes up almost the whole screen, his hand fisted around its length. He’s stroking himself gently as gentle moans erupt from somewhere offscreen.

I’m so turned on that I feel like I’m going to pass out.

I stare down at the phone and watch him as I stroke myself, my speed increasing, my touch intensifying. In response, his speed picks up too. His cock is so thick, so hard, and all I can think of is what it would be like to have it inside me again.

“I’m going to come, Conlon,” I gasp, my thighs splitting apart as my hips buck under me with the first shudder of my orgasm. I know he’s watching. I know he sees what he’s done to me.

“Fuck, yes,” he moans, and I watch him let loose. A moment later he shoots his seed all over his stomach as my body pulses with ecstasy. I’ve never experienced anything so erotic, and we didn’t even touch. Glorious, perfect, sexy man.

I watch his fingers slip over his stomach, then with the other hand he steers his phone to his gorgeous face.

“That was for you, gorgeous Adriana,” he tells me. “I came for you.”

“Thank you,” I murmur. I don’t quite have the nerve to direct the camera to my own face. “Mine was for you,” I say.

“I know.”

“We didn’t exactly keep it professional, did we?” I ask, turning off the camera option.

“Not exactly. But tomorrow is a new day,” he says.

“Yes. It is.”

For a minute or so we sit in silence, listening to one another’s breaths grow slower and more shallow. When the time comes to speak, neither of us seems to want to hang up, so we slowly ease into an actual conversation.

“That concert tonight,” I say, “it was amazing.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Didn’t you?”

“Yes, but for reasons other than the music itself.”

“Reasons such as?” I ask.

“For one, I had you next to me.”

“You’re flattering me again.”

“Not flattering. Just being truthful.”

My mind shifts to another topic, like I’m deliberately veering away from intimate talk after our brief sexual encounter. I’m doing what I did on the plane; I’m running away from closeness and pulling away from him. Another self-preservation measure. “What was that, at the restaurant?” I ask. “About your father?”

Conlon goes silent again, and I can tell that I’ve stepped into unpleasant territory.

“What about my father?” he asks, his tone turned icy.

“You had a strange reaction when Galen was talking about him. You seemed angry.”

“I am angry. My father was a disaster. An alcoholic. Still is, by all accounts.”

“He’s still alive?”

“Still alive, yes. We haven’t spoken in years. He used to get in touch now and then to ask me for money, but I’m afraid I wasn’t very polite the last time. He brings out some ill feelings in me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. But if ever you wonder why I balk at the notion of commitment, look to him.”

Things have just gotten weirdly serious, and I have only myself to blame.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I’m not him.”

What a pair of dysfunctional idiots we are. We come so close to opening up, then shut down all over again.

“Do you ever worry?” I ask him quietly. “I mean, about becoming like him?”

“No. I have no call to be crushed by life, so no reason to need the escape that alcohol would provide.”

“Right. You’d only be crushed if…”

“If I loved something and lost it.” He grits out the words.

“And you don’t love anything.”

He pauses before replying. “I love Galen,” he says. “When he lost his arm I resolved to fix things for him. I hated that he’d become less than whole. I hated the thought that perhaps no one would love him, and I wanted to make things right. It’s why I do what I do now.”

“You have nothing to worry about where Galen’s concerned,” I reply. “He’s a very likeable guy.”

“Yes, he is. So likeable that I would try to set him up with you, if I thought I could possibly stand it.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“You beautiful creature. If I offered you up for my brother to take, it would mean I had zero chance of ever being inside you again. As it stands, I have about a one percent chance, but that’s far better than nothing. As much as you want to keep things professional, I find myself wanting to kiss you every time I look at you. I nearly tore your clothes off in the elevator earlier today. You make me insane, Adriana.”

I wait a moment before replying, considering my words carefully. “What is it that you really want from me, Conlon? Aside from sex, I mean?”

When his words come back to me, I can almost feel his eyes narrowing in the sexy, hungry way that they do. “I want everything. I want your body. I want your mind. I want your heart.”

Heat flows through me like a torrent of lava. He’s just ever so slightly opened himself. Slightly lowered the barrier between us. He’s just told me in no uncertain terms that he wants more than a roll in the hay.

But it’s not enough. I want to ask him what he would do if I fulfilled his wish and gave myself to him. Of course, I’m not going to, because there’s only one answer I want to hear. And I don’t think it’s the one I’d get.

“I think,” he says softly when faced with my silence, “that we should say good night. I’ll see you tomorrow at six, Adriana.”

“Yes, of course,” I reply quietly. “Tomorrow. Good night, Conlon.”

“Good night.”