I ONLY HAD a second or two. I willed my throat and lips into Christina’s cool, precise voice. “Hello?”

I thought that it would be the same as speaking to him at the hotel. I’d forgotten that then we were strangers; now, we were lovers. His low voice rumbled from the phone’s speaker directly into my ear and from there straight down to my groin, shockingly intimate. Three words that were so normal, but he made them a confession, a grudging admission of... weakness? “I’ve missed you.”

I swallowed and closed my eyes, trying to focus on shaping the words correctly. “I’ve missed you, too.”

His voice tightened with anger. “The doctors wouldn’t let me speak to you.”

“I’m about to have surgery,” I told him. “I won’t be able to talk, while it heals. But once I’m healed, I’ll be able to come home.”

“I’ve been remembering the night we met.” Oh God, that voice. I knew I needed to focus, but it was so easy to get lost in that Russian accent. Remembering was like a string of pearls, the silky bump of each m caressing my brain. Then the hard fall of each t, like a playful slap on the ass. His voice always had a physical effect on me, but when he spoke like this, low and growly and intimate, it was taken to a whole new level. I realized I was crushing my thighs together.

And then I had a horrible thought: I had no clue what happened, the night they met. Shit!

“You looked so small, by the side of the road,” murmured Konstantin. “So lost.” His voice tightened for a second. “Your boyfriend….”

I was piecing the story together as quickly as I could. Christina’s boyfriend must have dumped her there, and Konstantin found her. “My boyfriend was an asshole,” I told Konstantin. That felt like a safe response.

“He didn’t know what he had. But I did. As soon as we got home... do you remember what I did to you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Tell me,” he said, his voice urgent with lust.

Shit! I had no idea. I flailed around for an excuse. “It’s not very private here,” I lied. “There are doctors all around me.”

I could almost see his brow furrow. “That never bothered you before. You like people listening.”

Great. Of course sexy, confident Christina would be an exhibitionist. In desperation, I tried the truth. “I’d rather hear you say it,” I told him. “You know I love your voice.”

There was silence for a second and I wondered if I’d slipped up. But then, “First of all, I stripped off your clothes. Your dress in the lounge. Your bra on the stairs. Your panties, I tore off on the bed.”

I swallowed. “Mm-hmm.” I knew I had to concentrate. One slip and he’d realize something was wrong. But his voice was rough chunks of black rock floating on a stream of molten silver. It coursed straight down my body, pooling between my legs. God, I could feel his big hand tearing at my panties, the elastic stretching and then snapping…. I pressed my thighs hard together and leaned back against the door.

“I took hold of your ankles and pushed them up and back.” He emphasized the word and I could almost feel myself opening, feel the cool air of the room hitting my folds. “I took your breasts in my hands and rubbed, very slowly, back and forward, until your nipples were scraping my palms.”

My cheeks were scarlet, my breathing tight. I could feel the heat, throbbing between my thighs, turning to slick moisture. I knew he was describing her, not me, but it didn’t matter. With his voice, it was happening to me... right now. I could feel the rough touch of his hands on my breasts and under my bra I could feel the nipples tightening and rising—

“I put my face between your thighs and I started licking you. Just the tip of my tongue, parting those lips—”

I glanced around the room. I was alone and there were no windows.... No. Jesus, no, don’t be stupid, I’m not going to—

“Then I pushed deeper.”

Deeper, said in that accent, was almost a penetration itself. It seared into my mind, making me gasp. The heat in my groin became a needful ache. Crushing my thighs together wasn’t enough.

“Tasting you, plunging up into you while my hands squeezed your breasts.”

I glanced down at myself. No! I was in the middle of the FBI building, of course I couldn’t—

“I licked at you until you arched your back off the bed and came. And I made you come again and again. Until you begged me. Until you screamed and kicked and sobbed and begged me to fuck you.”

The ache in my groin was almost painful. I squeezed my hands into fists. “Mm-hmm.”

“And then, only then, did I put my cock against you. Do you remember how soaking wet you were? I put the head against you, and you were tight, you weren’t used to me and you weren’t sure you could take me.”

Oh God. I hauled my skirt up my thighs.

“But you did take me. All of me. Right. Up. Inside. You.”

I plunged my hand into my panties and started to rub myself.

“And I fucked you slow and deep and then hard and fast. Until you clawed at my back and screamed. Until I felt your tight little pussy clench around me as you came for me.”

I pressed my lips tight together, but I couldn’t make my climax completely silent. It came out as a guttural sound in my throat, a helpless, shameful admission. I folded forwards at the waist, my hand trapped between my thighs, rocking and rocking against my slick fingers as I rode it out. By the end of it, I was so shaky-legged, I could barely stand.

I realized he’d gone silent. He was listening. He knew exactly what I’d been doing. I drew in a long, shocked breath. Did I really just do that? I hadn’t intended to…. I frantically pushed my skirt back into place. God, the control he had over me, just with that voice….

“Go and have your surgery,” he told me. “Get well. And come back to me.” And he hung up.