Call On Me. Roni Loren

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       TWELVE

      Oakley hated that she was listening to the music Pike had added to her phone. What was she? Twelve? A mixtape should not get her going like this. But lying on the couch in the dark with her headphones on, hearing the songs he’d chosen drift through her ears, had this intimacy to it, like a private conversation.

      He’d chosen a mix of songs, some from his band, most from other artists. All had a dark, sexy edge to them. Visceral beats. Nothing romantic. If dirty, sweaty sex could be put into music, this was the soundtrack. And her body hadn’t missed the memo. With every heavy, pulsing beat, her blood pumped and her skin tingled.

      Reagan had gone to sleep over at Devon’s place after the concert, so Oakley had the house to herself. It’d be easy to take advantage of the solitude. So simple to call Pike. But she hadn’t been lying to him backstage. She couldn’t let herself get involved with someone like him. Plus, Pike was probably wrapped up in the model-thin legs of that redheaded chick by now. Oakley’s stomach twisted, but she tried to ignore the kick of jealousy. The fact that she was feeling that emotion at all proved why she needed to keep her distance with Pike. She was already getting attached.

      The current song ended and one by Darkfall started. It was the one they had opened the show with. She closed her eyes and let herself fall into the rhythm of Pike’s bass drum. Thump. Thump. Thump. She could still see him there, biceps flexing, knees bouncing, confidence bleeding through every moment, could feel the sound vibrating through her bones, his music curling inside her. She pressed her thighs together, warmth building there.

      Her phone dinged, interrupting the music and her daydreaming state. Her eyelids fluttered open. She hadn’t signed in to take work calls tonight since she’d needed a break. But who else would message her this late? Worry that something was wrong with Reagan was her first instinctual response, but when she lifted her phone to look at the screen, it wasn’t Reagan or a work message, it was a calendar reminder. All it said was, Open me.

      What the hell?

      She pressed the notification and the calendar page opened up. The words on the screen danced in her vision.

      It’s bedtime for you, Oakley. Time to have some fun.

      Make sure Reagan is in bed, then do the following.

      Her heartbeat ticked up a notch. She scrolled down.

      Find the gift of glass that I gave you and put it in a bucket of ice water. Don’t question it. Just do it. You can back out of the game at any time but don’t stop before you try. (Allotted time: 5 minutes) Go.

      She stared down at the words as she sat up on the couch. What. The. Fuck. Pike had obviously been doing way more than adding songs to her playlist. The message glared at her, daring her. Just do it. The gift? Only one thing had been made of glass. She wet her lips. This was ridiculous. Pike wasn’t even texting this in real time. This was some sort of game he’d set up on her calendar. She should ignore it.

      But she found herself climbing off the couch and heading to her room anyway, strangely compelled. Her fantasies had already been running rampant while listening to the music, and this felt like it was still part of that dream. Not real. A distant voice of a mystery lover telling her what to do. What could it hurt to do this one thing? He wouldn’t even know if she’d done it or not.

      The locked box of toys was in the bottom corner of her closet. She grabbed the key off a high shelf and unlatched the lock. Right on top sat the clear glass dildo, an erotic piece of art daring her to touch it. She let her fingertips run over the smooth surface. What would it feel like ice cold? A shiver raised goose bumps on her skin.

      Before she could talk herself out of the ridiculous move, she grabbed the thing and brought it to the kitchen. The freezer blasted her flushed cheeks with cold air and she filled a wine chiller with ice then brought it to the sink to fill it with water. She plunged the glass toy into it.

      Another ding came from her phone.

      Good girl. I know you did it for me. Now reward yourself with a hot, relaxing bath. Use your best stuff. Scrub your skin until it’s rosy and nothing of the day is left. But don’t touch yourself. That’s off limits. For now. (Allotted time: 30 minutes)

      She closed her eyes and tried to breathe through the rush his words caused. She should be irritated that he was arrogant enough to think she’d follow some arbitrary instructions—especially after she’d told him they couldn’t see each other. But her body was already warm and needy, her thoughts and logic blurring from the arousal. She peered toward her bedroom. Pike was keeping his word. This wasn’t seeing him. He could be sleeping right now for all she knew or out with friends or … no, she wouldn’t let her mind go down the groupie route again.

      She went into her room, set aside the bucket of ice water, and headed to the bathroom to turn on the faucet. It’d been at least a month since she’d even used the tub. A quick shower in the morning was about all she had time for these days, so she had to dig deep in her cabinet to find bubble bath. But once the tub was full, the air scented, and the mirrors steamy, she sunk into the fantasy again.

      She set her phone on the edge of the tub and submerged herself in the water, the heat gliding over her skin like a lover’s touch. Was Pike thinking about her СКАЧАТЬ