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She waited anxiously for his response. And waited. And waited some more. Was he already tired of their little game?
Owen?
Shh. I’m trying to come.
Caitlyn wasn’t sure why the thought of him touching himself had her beside herself with lust. A video appeared in their message thread. Before she pushed the little play arrow in the center, she could make out a very familiar thick cock wrapped in a tight fist. As she watched the short clip, the sight of him stroking his length was distracting, but his whispers to her had her wishing she could teleport through her phone and give him a hand—or a mouth—with that enormous hard-on.
“Caitlyn,” he whispered so quietly, she could barely hear his words over the sounds of flesh stroking lubed-up flesh. “I can’t stop thinking of you. Of the way you let me fuck your throat. How you looked up at me with your mouth stretched around me and my balls against your chin.”
Shocked by what he was saying, by what he was doing, she slapped her phone face down on the table.
“Oh my God,” she said aloud. What a dirty mouth he had on him. Did he actually think something like that would turn her on? Because she was currently on fire. She fanned her flushed face with one hand while using the other to turn her phone back over. She slid the video back to the beginning so she could watch and listen again.
“Caitlyn,” he whispered to her again, his strong tanned fingers sliding up the length of his slippery-looking cock. “I can’t stop thinking—”
Her phone rang, startling her so completely that the phone slid halfway across the table. She scrambled after it and scowled down at the name displayed on her caller ID. Why the fuck was Charles calling her after midnight? Why the fuck was he calling her at all? She didn’t want to talk to her ex-husband, so she sent his call to voicemail and returned to Owen’s string of messages to see if he’d sent anything else.
Do you want the money shot?
All over my tits, she typed back, feeling particularly brazen after being called out of the blue by her cheating ex-husband.
I can’t reach them from here.
Then you’d better not come. Not until you see me.
Tomorrow?
Sunday. Don’t come until then.
So cruel. My balls are going to ache so bad for you.
Good, she typed, not sure why making him wait made her feel more empowered than when she stood at the head of a board meeting. Until Sunday then.
Was she really going to be that woman, the one who teased a man to the extent of his patience? She was, she decided with a grin. Though she’d make sure the wait was worth his while. And hers.
If I can’t come until then, neither can you, he texted her.
She didn’t answer, deciding it was better to keep him guessing. And as aroused as watching his too short video made her, she didn’t want to come without him. She wanted her desperate need to claw at her insides until she saw him again. That way she wouldn’t be able to talk herself out of doing exactly what her body wanted when her head was telling her to run the other way.
~~~
Instead of returning to San Antonio to visit her friend Jenna on Thursday, Caitlyn decided to go to work. She figured it would keep her mind off Owen while he performed his concert in Beaumont that night and in New Orleans on Friday. At least she figured that until the gifts began to arrive. A little after nine, a huge bouquet of flowers was delivered. The card read: Be kind and rewind. Owen
What kind of message was that? She didn’t get it, so she texted him. Thanks for the flowers. They’re gorgeous. But I’m too dense to figure out your message.
She set aside her phone and went back to researching the current methods of converting water into hydrogen fuel, hoping to spark some new idea. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before her phone rang. It was Owen. Her palms went instantly damp, and she took a deep breath before answering.
“Hello?” Was that breathy, sexy sound really her voice?
“It means you should rewind and watch that video I sent you again.” And could that deep, raspy voice of his be any sexier?
It took her a moment to realize he was talking about the card he’d sent with the flowers. She felt like an idiot for not figuring out his cryptic message on her own.
“Oh. But I’m at work.” Even though she was supposed to be on vacation. Working was a habit she just couldn’t seem to break.
“Afraid seeing me stroke my dick will make your panties all wet?”
She laughed. “Yes, actually.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered. Watch it again.”
“Okay. But not because you told me to, but because I want to.”
“You’ve been a bad girl, Caitlyn. I want you to think about what you did.”
She scowled. Why did he think she was bad? “What did I do?”
“Do you have any idea how much my balls hurt after I had to get that hard-on under control without coming?”
Her breath caught, and she covered the throbbing pulse in her throat with her fingertips. “You obeyed my instructions?” Wow. This was a lot more fun than she’d anticipated. Long distance naughtiness played havoc on her nerve endings.
“I’m assuming you’re going to make it up to me.”
She grinned. “Not until Sunday.” She hung up before he could respond. She found his video on her phone and watched it from the beginning.
The sound of her name being whispered by his deep gruff voice in the dark while the light from his camera illuminated his hand and cock made her thighs tremble. She decided she should be extra kind and rewind it twice more before she set her phone aside again. Her panties were indeed uncomfortably damp now, and despite what Owen had said, he didn’t have her covered. She had to take a trip to the ladies room to do something about the hot, achy flesh between her legs. She considered sending him a video of the state she was in, but wasn’t feeling quite that bold—not when she could hear a couple of her employees talking in the lab down the hallway. When she returned to her desk, she found a small shiny black box from some lingerie store across town. So that was what he’d meant by having her wet panties covered? He was sending her sexy lingerie at work—how inappropriate. And fun. She untied the red satin ribbon and lifted the lid. When she pulled out a pair of yellow panties with a chicken embroidered on the front, she burst into delighted laughter. Beneath the chicken, Caitlyn’s Sinday Panties had been embroidered in black thread.
She reached for her phone again, trying to remember why she was supposed to be mad at him. Oh yeah, he’d knocked up some groupie six months ago. But his past didn’t really matter to her. After knowing her less than two days, Owen understood her in a way that Charles had never figured out after twelve years of marriage.
She didn’t bother texting this time, but called him directly. She was disappointed when he didn’t answer but slightly appeased when she found he’d recorded a personal message for his voicemail greeting, so at least she could hear his voice.
“Sorry I missed your call. I’m either rocking on stage or rolling in the hay. Leave a message, and I’ll call you after I catch my breath.”
He’d better be rocking and not rolling, she thought as a loud beep told her she could begin recording her message. “It’s Caitlyn. I got the um . . . sexy lingerie you sent me. Am I supposed to wear them when I see you on Sunday? They specifically say Sinday. Just making sure you know how to spell the days of the week. Lo— Bye.” She hurriedly hung up the phone, glad she’d caught herself before she’d ended with her usual sign off of love you. She wasn’t sure which of them would have been more disturbed by that slip.
Still smiling, she carefully tucked the thoughtful gift back into the box and secured the lid. She was staring wistfully into space when the chocolates arrived. She decided to wait until he called her back to thank him for those and tried to think of a gift she could get for him. He liked music—obviously—but she would undoubtedly screw up anything she attempted to get him in that arena. He liked pastrami sandwic
hes, dancing in diners, his friend Kellen, and sex clubs. Sex. He really liked sex. She definitely needed to get to know him better. While the flowers and chocolates were nice, she could tell he put some thought into the panties. She’d been embarrassed that for whatever stupid reason she’d worn a pair of sheep panties that first night he’d gotten into them. And when she’d had the opportunity to change into a new pair, she’d gone for the ones that had a cow on the front, since he’d gotten such a kick out of her sheep underwear. The chicken continued her barnyard theme, but it also reminded her that he’d made her do the Chicken Dance at a diner in the middle of the night. And she’d had a blast. So any gift she got him in return had to be just as personal to him as those custom embroidered chicken panties were to her.
