Friends of mine have said I’m too bold with men – that when it comes to dating, I should be subtler, play it coy, and wait for the man to make the first move. I’ve always been bad at that. I like to be pursued and chased as much as the next girl, but I also hate playing games. I like to know what a man is thinking, and I’ve found that too much holding back and playing it coy just leads to miscommunications or lost connections. Besides, I’ve never been afraid to say what’s on my mind or ask for what I want.

Which is why I decide it’s time to ask Jacob about his love life.

I’ve realized I actually have no idea what his story is, romance-wise. I assume, given that he has hours a day to talk to me, he’s not seeing anyone else, but I don’t actually know for sure. The last thing I want to do is keep falling for a man who is involved with someone else.

My phone rings just after I’ve eaten and I smile, seeing that it’s Jacob. I settle myself down in my armchair before answering.

“Hello there, you,” I say.

“Hi, Mia,” he says. His voice sounds extra gruff today. Gruff and sexy.

“I’m glad you called,” I say.

Jacob laughs. “I always call,” he says.

“Not true,” I say, “sometimes I call you.”

“You do,” Jacob agrees, laughing again.

“But I’m extra glad you called tonight,” I say, pushing on.

“Why’s that?” Jacob asks. I can hear him moving around, like maybe he’s heading to settle in a chair himself.

“Because I’ve got a very important question I need to ask you,” I say.

“About whiskey? Or maybe chocolate?” Jacob says, his voice clearly teasing.

“About you,” I say, grinning through a few nerves.

“What about me?” Jacob asks, sounding a little guarded even as he laughs.

“You in that cabin of yours,” I ask, “what you do possibly do to occupy yourself all day if you’re alone?”

“All alone,” Jacob confirms.

“Always? Never anyone special up there with you?” I ask, deciding just to go for broke. “Like a woman?”

“Oh,” Jacob says like I’ve caught him off guard. “No, no. There’s no one up here but me.”

“No?” I ask, very glad to hear it.

 

“Not in a very long time,” Jacob says softly, like a confession.

“Are you looking for someone?” I ask, whispering a little myself, every word suddenly feeling very important.

“I think,” Jacob pauses again. “No, because I think I might have found someone.”

“Really?” I ask I can feel my pulse racing, certain he means me. Surely this means he feels the same as I’m feeling.

“Someone pretty incredible, actually,” Jacob says, and the sincerity in his voice makes me feel a little weak in the knees.

“Someone you think about often?” I ask, pulse racing.

“All the time, in fact,” Jacob says.

“What do you think about… when you think about her?” I ask, swallowing hard.

“I think about a lot of things,” Jacob says, sounding a little confused.

“Do you ever…” I start, an idea coming to me. I want to know what Jacob thinks of me, how he does. If he’s thought about me at night, lying awake… Maybe thought about be being there in bed with him. It’s a nice picture to consider.

“Do I ever?” Jacob prompts.

“Do you just think about taking her out? Is it all flowers and romance? Or do you ever think about other things you could do?” I ask, biting my lip.

“Oh,’ Jacob says slowly, like he knows what I mean. “I have, yes. I’ve thought about a lot of things we could do together. But only if she wanted, of course.”

“She does,” I blurt instantly, embarrassed at myself for my enthusiasm.

“Does she?” Jacob asks with what I think is a hint of a smile – a low, sexy one. “So, does she think about me, too?”

“She has,” I admit.

“Good,” Jacob says. “So, if I were to, say, put a hand behind her neck and kiss her, would that be a good idea?”

“Yes, please,” I say, sounding a little breathless at the thought. “She – ” I start, then shake my head. “I mean, I would kiss you back and grab onto the front of your shirt to pull you in for more.”

“And if I ran my hand down from your neck, over your back, so I could slide my hand up your shirt.” He pauses like he’s deciding if this is a good idea before he adds, “or maybe down to your ass.”

 

“That would be, um,” I say, shifting in my chair a little, feeling my face flush. “I’d like that. I could reach for the buttons on your shirt, start to undo them one by one while we kissed.”

“I could press you against me, and while your hands were working on my shirt, I could reach up yours again and unhook your bra,” Jacob says. His words have gone all dark and heavy, gaining more confidence, making me feel like my skin is burning in the best way.

“Good, that’s good. And I could pull your shirt off your shoulders, and run my hands over your chest and feel all your muscles,” I say, my words sound breathy to my own ears, and I can feel myself getting wet from the thought of touching him like that.

“I would slide your bra out of the way so I could touch your breasts and cup them in my hands,” he says, sounding out of breath himself.

“Please,” I tell him. “God, I would want you to touch me more, would move my hands so you could get my bra and shirt all the way off.”

“Good,” Jacob says. “Then I would touch your nipples with my thumb, tease them as I kissed my way down your neck.” He sounds so turned on himself, I imagine he has to be rock hard already. I shudder at the thought, almost whimpering.

“I would trail my hand down toward your pants – button and zipper and all – to see if I could feel how hard you already were,” I say. I hear Jacob bite back a groan at that, and I slide my own hand, on my own chair, up onto my stomach where my skin feels warm to the touch. “Are you?” I ask him.

“Yes,” Jacob says, “and I would be so fucking hard if you were touching me like that. If I had my mouth on your breasts. I’ll bet you make the most amazing sounds when someone does that.” I whimper at that and swallow. Hard. I trail my hand into my pajama bottoms, desperately needing to touch myself.

“I wouldn’t want you to stop, but I’d need more so badly. I’d be unbuttoning your pants, needing you.” I say. I’m soaking wet when I reach inside my own underwear.

“I would reach--” Jacob pauses and laughs a little, although it’s much deeper than normal. “Wait, what are you wearing?”

“Make it a skirt. That’s sexier,” I say, huffing out a laugh of my own as I drag my fingers on my clit.

“Works for me,” Jacob says, laughing again and getting back to the story. “Then I’d slide my hands up your skirt and push your underwear to one side so I could see how wet you are for me.”

 

“Soaked,” I say, gasping a little as I pick up the tempo of my fingers. “Soaked as you touch me. I undo your pants and pull them down so I can see you.”

“I could slide my fingers around, feel how wet you are. Find your clit, watch your face as I touched you right there.” Jacob pauses, his voice so dark and rough its almost sending me over the edge. “As I touched you the way I think you’re touching yourself right now?”

“I am,” I say. “Are you?”

“Yes,” Jacob says, and I gasp again, thinking of it, of him holding the phone in one hand to talk to me while he strokes himself like that.

“Shit,” I say, feeling a little breathless.

“Let me hear it,” Jacob says, all low, like a command. “As you touch yourself, when you make yourself come, don’t hold back. I want to hear it, okay?”

I moan. “I can do that,” I say, a bit impatient. “But what’s next? You were touching me like I’m touching myself right now. Keep going.”

Jacob laughs again, low and rattling, and I close my eyes and imagine it as he continues. “I could touch you until you were crying out, slide my fingers inside you, and your hips would buck against mine, and – ”

“And I’d beg you to fuck me,” I gasp. “I’d have my hand all over your cock, and I’d need it inside me.”

“So I’d _” Jacob starts, then stops, letting out a groan of his own like he’s as turned on as I am. Like he’s about to come himself. “I’d pull your underwear down and step all the way out of my pants. And I’d pick you up and set you _”

“Against the wall. Hold me up against the wall,” I request, interrupting him again. I’m being rather bossy about this, but the sound he makes in response says he doesn’t mind at all.

“Put you against the wall and pull your skirt around your waist so I could slide inside you,” Jacob says.

I moan again, more high-pitched. I’m so close to coming, so I pick up my own pace again. I slide two fingers inside myself, thrusting them back and forth as I run circles on my clit. I imagine him holding me against a wall, fucking me right there. I imagine him he as he is right now, his hand on his own cock, and the combined images are the hottest thing I’ve ever thought.

“I’d wrap my legs around you, pull you in closer so you could fuck me hard and fast,” I say, gasping. “Jacob, I’m so close.”

 

“Me too,” Jacob says, groaning again. “God, Mia. I would – I would fuck you so hard, one hand holding you up and the other touching your nipples again, and then maybe your clit so – ”

“Fuck. Oh, god, oh,” I say, interrupting him as I come, crying out and yelling, words turning into sounds and syllables as I come around my own fingers.

“Fuck,” Jacob says as I’m coming, letting out a long breath and a gasp that I know means he’s there on his end, too.

We don’t talk for a minute as we both breathe through our orgasms, but just the sound of his breathing on the other end makes me feel even better. I take it as a good sign that nothing feels awkward just being here on the other end of the line with him after like this.

This is not exactly what I had in mind when I asked him about his feelings for me, but truth be told, I’m not complaining about it.