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My phone starts ringing and an unknown number flashes across the screen. I hold my breath as my fingers hit the green answer button.
“Hello?” I whisper, sitting myself upright in my bed.
“Lucy, run your fingers down your stomach. Dip them into your panties,” a deep, husky voice says into my ear, almost as if he’s somehow in the room with me.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“I’m the person who’s going to get you off right now so you can go to sleep. Now, do as you’re told,” he urges me.
I’m contemplating hanging up. I want to. But more than that, I want to follow his instructions. What could it really hurt? It’s not like he can see me.
“What’s your name?” I question as my fingers follow the path down the middle of my bare stomach.
“You don’t need to know my name to come.”
My body shivers. There’s something about his voice that seems to run right through me.
“Slide your fingers into your panties, Lucy,” he tells me again.
Without thinking about the consequences of encouraging a possible sociopath, I do as instructed. My fingers slide beneath my waistband, right through the centre of my folds.
“Are you wet for me, Little Bee?” he asks.
“I’m wet for myself, not you,” I say, even though it’s one hundred percent his voice that’s turning me on right now.
He chuckles, and the sound is both comforting and dangerous. “Whatever you need to tell yourself. Now, insert two fingers into your pussy. Push them right in.”
I gasp as I fill myself with my fingers. I’m not a stranger to masturbation. I am, however, a stranger to doing it with an audience.
“I bet your pussy feels so good. I can’t wait to shove my own fingers in there. Now, pull them out, drag your wetness over your clit, and circle.”
“Mmhmm,” I murmur while caressing my clit. The pressure and speed increase with each passing second.
“Circle those fingers around your clit. I want to hear you come, Lucy. I want to hear your moans.”
“Oh god!” I hiss out.
“That’s it. Get yourself there. Give it to me.”
My legs close around my hand and my body goes rigid as I fall over the edge of bliss.
“Oh shit,” I curse. The phone drops onto the bed, and it’s at this moment that what I’ve just done hits me. I scramble to pick up the phone and disconnect the call.
What the hell was I thinking?
Standing on shaky legs, I walk into the bathroom and turn on the cold water. I wash my hands and splash my face before staring at myself in the mirror. I know what everyone else sees when they look at the girl reflected back at me. They see a beautifully maintained trust fund brat. A princess. Flawless, because she has to be to keep up appearances.
What I see is a girl trapped in a gilded castle. Someone destined to take over a multi-billion-dollar organisation that she’s not even sure she wants. I know it makes me sound like a spoilt, ungrateful little rich kid. Which I’m not. I’m extremely grateful to my parents for the privileges I was born into. I know that I have a good life, a life some would andhavekilled for. That doesn’t mean everything is rainbows and unicorns. Honestly, at times, it feels like I’m not living it all. I’m simply following a well laid-out plan someone else created for me.
My older brother Xavier did what he wanted to do. He became a defence attorney. Which basically leaves the Christianson Corporation to me. I’m sure he’d step in and help when that day comes, but he has his own business he’s excelling at.
I wonder what would happen if I told my parents I wanted to study design instead of business? Where would that leave Christianson Corp, a family-owned empire that has been managed by our namesake for generations.
Turning off the tap, I walk back into my room and climb into bed. I pick up my phone and immediately notice a new string of notifications.
Unknown:
That was more than I ever imagined it would be. I can’t wait to see it in person.
