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“How’s it feel to be the Stanley Cup winners?” she asks.
“Fucking amazing,” I confess. “It’s been the best night. Taylor was on fire at the goals. Nothing could touch us.”
“I saw. I was on the edge of my seat.”
“Yeah, you liked watching the game?”
“I liked watching the game… and you,” she says.
A huge fucking grin spreads across my face, and I feel myself growing hard.
“You don’t know how good that makes me feel to hear that.”
“You looked great out there,” she tells me.
“Are you starting to get into the game?”
She laughs. “I think so.”
“I like that a lot, you know what else?”
“What?”
“You’re turning me on.”
She laughs, and her voice is like silk down the phone. I want to wrap my arms around her from behind and show her what she’s done to me. I’d make it so damned good.
“Do I turn you on often?” she asks.
I groan now, and I don’t care if she hears me. “Every night.”
“Seriously?”
“True as I’m standing here. What about you?”
It’s silent for a moment, and I don’t think she’s going to answer me, or maybe she’s just thinking about her answer. But finally, she does.
“Every night,” she sighs.
My fucking heart soars. “Really?”
“True, as I’m standing here… well, sitting, actually.”
We both laugh. This is how things have been with her since we met. We just fall into step.
“I wish you were here,” I say darkly down the phone. If only she knew what I wanted to do to her and how I’d make her mine.
“I wish I was there, too.”
“I’d leave this club in a second and take you somewhere, just us.”
She giggles, and my hard-on is starting to hurt. I reach down to adjust myself. I know I’m gonna need some relief right after this conversation is over.
“Where would you take me?” she purrs.
I grin like the cat that got his cream. “Anywhere but here, beautiful girl.”
“Sounds like you’re flirting with me.”
