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The sun lies so close to the horizon that it colors the sky a deep crimson that I never get to see in London. I’m still too riled up from meeting Phoenix to bask in the view.
She’s already burrowed under my skin and left me hungering for more. I have to see her right now.
My hand drifts to my phone. I pull it out and dial her number.
She doesn’t answer right away, and my jaw clenches. I’ll be damned if I leave a voicemail. Just as I pull the phone away from my ear, her name appears along with an incoming message from FaceTime.
A deep chuckle fills my chest. I’m game.
I answer, and Phoenix appears on screen, wearing a silver camisole with lace cups that barely conceal her round breasts. She’s out of breath, her cheeks flushed.
Heat surges to my cock, and my balls tighten. Sweet sacrilege. I knew the woman was hiding something, but a luscious little body like this?
Phoenix has the face and figure that could bring a man to his knees. But not me. Marius Segul prostrates himself for no one.
I can’t fathom how she would hide her allure under a facade of a low ponytail and clothes that cover every inch of her form. What I see before me is a stark contrast to my first impression of Phoenix.
Her face is just as beautiful as before but is now framed by tawny brown hair with amber highlights that cascade down to her breasts. She’s the vision of a fragile innocence waiting to be ruined.
Ruined by me.
But the urgent swelling in my dick reminds me that those are questions for another time.
“Have you been thinking about me?” I ask.
She smirks. “Are you always this big headed?”
I grin back, taking her non-answer to mean yes. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”
“So…” Phoenix flashes me a dazzling grin that gives me the first glimpse of a personality beneath the innocent facade. It’s infectious and I feel my lips trying to smile.
“Where’s this playroom?” she asks.
“In the basement, but I’m up in the master suite.” I tap the icon on the screen to flip to the back-facing camera, and swivel the phone so she can see the view.
The walls are white, as is everywhere else in this house, but my furniture consists of a mix of antiques I acquired from France and reproductions of rococo and baroque pieces.
Silver armchairs upholstered in ivory, a king size bed with quilted headboard framed with platinum vermeil. The dressers and side tables all have the same curved legs that are either metallic or painted white.
It’s elegant, simple, and with a touch of class. A stark contrast to the squalor of my past.
At her audible gasp, I’m already picturing her gazing up at me with those pretty, gray eyes.
All in good time.
I turn the camera back to me and smirk. “Was I interrupting something earlier?”
She lowers her lashes and smiles, bringing two deep dimples on her cheeks. It’s a pity I’m not into the schoolgirl uniform kink because Phoenix has nailed that balance between wide-eyed vulnerability and wantonness.
“How old are you?” I ask.
“Twenty-one.” She leans toward the camera. “And you?”
Younger than I thought but old enough. “Twenty-eight. Now, answer my question. What were you doing before I rang?”
“Touching myself,” she says, her voice breathy. “While thinking of you.”
My cock hardens. The corners of my mouth twitch as I suppress a reaction. “Sorry to have interrupted such an important endeavor. Do continue.”
