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But for now, she had other people’s libidos to satisfy.
Her phone was ringing before she shut her bedroom door.
“Hello, this is Sasha …”
EIGHT
By quarter to one, Oakley was running on fumes. She’d taken seven calls tonight and the last had been a guy who’d wanted her to humiliate him pretty much non-stop. She’d had to pull out all her reserves to find creative enough insults because he’d complained that other women he’d called only said things like “You’re such a naughty boy.” He needed more than that. He wanted to be verbally assaulted. That took energy.
She let her head sag onto her pillow, her headset like a weight pressing down on her brain, and waved the white flag. She’d planned to work until one but she didn’t have it in her tonight.
After yawning loudly, she sat up and reached for her laptop to sign out of her shift. But before she could hit the button, the phone rang.
“Son of a bitch.” Once a call was in her queue¸ she had to take it.
She clicked the Sign Out icon on her laptop so she wouldn’t get another call after this one and slammed her laptop shut, then she sank back onto the pillows and hit the button on her headset to answer the call.
“Hello, this is Sasha. Ready for a fantasy night?”
God, she hated that cheesy scripted intro the service required. It made her teeth grind.
The caller cleared his throat on the other end.
Great. A breather. “Hello?”
“I’m here.” The voice was quiet, still.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to put some effort into it. “Well, hi there, handsome. How you doing tonight?”
A few seconds passed, and she thought maybe the call had dropped, but then he spoke. “You sound sleepy. Are you in bed?”
“I am. All alone. How about you? You want some company?”
“I want you.”
The words were ones she’d heard a thousand times before, but for some reason these sent a bloom of heat through her. Her body prickled with awareness. Huh. Weird. “Well, I’m right here for whatever you want.”
“I just got what I wanted.”
She frowned. “And what’s that?”
“To hear your voice one more time tonight.”
Her eyelids blinked open. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name, have we already talked?”
The sound of sheets rustling filled the phone as he apparently shifted in bed. “Yes. And I’m still waiting for you to sing to me.”
Her heart jumped into her throat, time slowing around her and alarm bells blaring in her head. She grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand and flipped it over. A name she’d programmed into it only tonight showed on the screen.
Pike Ryland.
She hadn’t checked the phone before she’d hit the button on the headset. She’d been so tired she’d forgotten to look. Who the hell called after midnight? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Her hands trembled, adrenaline chasing her panic. “You must have the wrong number, sir.”
“You know I don’t,” he said, his voice slipping into his normal tone now that he knew she’d figured out who it was.
“I’m sorry, I have to—”
“Oakley, take a breath. It’s okay,” he said, his words gentle. “I’d already pretty much figured it out. It’s why I thought I could get away with calling you so late. I knew you’d be up.”
