August 16, 1998
The phone rang, startling me enough to make me jump. Honestly, who would be calling me at nine o'clock at night? I reached across to the nightstand, cursing when my books and papers scattered, and let a little of my irritation bleed into my voice. "H'lo?"
"Hullo, Caro." Michael's voice washed over me, low and warm, that sexy British accent making my knees quiver. Good thing I was already in bed.
"Hey, darlin'." I peered at the clock again. "It's either very late, or very early over there; in any case, what the hell are you doing awake?" Even for Michael it would've been early, probably around four a.m. He usually got up at what I considered an insane hour, but this was pushing it a bit. His chuckle wrapped around my nerve endings, making each one spring to life.
"It's a little of both, I suppose, depending on your point of view." I heard a rustling noise over the phone and smiled, picturing him sitting at the desk in his room, tucking his feet up on it. "What were you doing?"
"Going over some reports for work. Got some new stats for a series of trials we finished and I needed to compile the data." I knocked the other book off the bed -- I had to pick them up anyway, why not be comfortable? -- and leaned back against my pillows. "What're you doing?"
"It's good to keep busy." I could hear the smile in his voice. "At the moment, I'm talking to you. In a few hours, I'll be having breakfast with Mother, Nonna and Lizzie, then accompanying my sister into London for the day." He heaved a big sigh, mostly for drama, since I knew he'd been looking forward to spending some time with Liz. "We're going to tour the clinic she'll be working at." Another rustle made me smile again. "Are you taking care of yourself, Caro?"
"Michael, you've been gone twenty-four hours. Almost. I haven't had time to not take care of myself, yet." I slid down a little lower on my pillow and closed my eyes, made my voice into a teasing leer. "Unless you'd like to help me take care of myself."
His laughter rolled through the phone line, making me feel warm and happy. Well, as warm and happy as I could be when he was thousands of miles away from home. I hated he was gone; I hated more he had to get on a plane to get there and to come back. "I miss you, as well, Caro."
"How much?" I stroked my hand down my chest, over my stomach, raising a line of goosebumps. He laughed again, lower and full of promise.
"Enough for one wank already," he breathed into the phone, making me shiver. The man gave good phone, that was for sure.
When I thought I could talk without sounding too breathy, I told him, "You should do phone sex, y'know that? You'd have men and women falling all over themselves to talk to you."
"I'm only interested in one man talking to me. And more interested in knowing what that man is doing right now?" Another rustle in the background. What was he doing?
"Not doing much of anything right now, except wondering what you're doing." I rubbed my stomach, just around my navel. 'Horny' was a descriptor meant for a seventeen year old kid, but hey, it worked for me too, lately. All the time.
"Getting undressed," he replied quietly, his voice rich with amusement. "I thought we might take care of each other together."
"I could handle that," I said, shifting around to squirm out of my shorts. "Called me just for phone sex, didn't you, darlin'."
"Would I do that?" Definitely humor in his voice, but a thread of something else, as well. Hunger. I knew it well, by now; Michael and I were well matched in our physical appetite for each other.
"Yes, you would." I shook my head and smiled, then reached for myself, long, slow strokes over my cock, making it leap and grow in my hand. "Are you touching yourself?"
"Oh, yes. And you?" God, I wished I could see him. Touch him.
"Yeah." Another long stroke, and I rubbed my palm over the tip of my cock, slowly, teasing myself. "Getting hard."
"Long and thick." His voice was a little rougher, a little thicker. Like I was getting. I cradled the phone in the crook of my neck so I could use my other hand to pinch my nipples. He needed to, too.
"Pinch your nipples, Michael." My voice matched his, rough and hungry. I heard a soft groan, barely an exhalation, but I'd spent the last few months memorizing Michael during all stages of arousal. "Play with them." I teased mine, hard little nubs that were puckered up high and tight right now. He groaned again and I echoed it, softly. "Stroke yourself, long, slow strokes, darlin'. Imagine me there, touching you, sucking you." I licked my lips, liking that image myself, then shivered. "Feels good, doesn't it."
"Yes." I heard him pant softly and smiled, then settled back to play with my nipples, picturing his fingers as I pinched and twisted, as I stroked and rubbed my cock. I was kind of losing myself in the sensation when his voice washed over me again. "Are you getting hard, Caro?"
I smiled. What a question. "Already there, darlin'. My dick's about ready to cut glass." I stroked a little faster while I talked, rubbing my palm up and over the head now, wet with juices beginning to flow.
"Do you have lube handy?"
"Uh…" It was a shame to let go of my cock; I was really starting to get into those long, smooth strokes. I dug around in the nightstand drawer and came up triumphant after a moment. "Yeah. Right here. Some of your oil."
"Good. Get your fingers slick, then touch your hole for me." Oh, man. We were calling in the big guns now. I swallowed and opened the bottle, then tipped a little out onto my fingers, smoothing it over them. I loved the oil Michael used. I wasn't sure where he got it; no doubt he ordered it specially blended from somewhere. It was slick, and smooth as silk and had a heady aroma. Sandalwood. I couldn't even smell the stuff any more without thinking about him.
"Okay. I'm slick." He chuckled softly, but there was something behind it. Something large and hungry.
"Touch yourself, Caro. Close your eyes, then slide your fingers down your cock and over your balls…slowly…tease yourself." Christ, I could probably just close my eyes and envision him touching me, listen to his voice and come. I wouldn't need to do anything else. "Now lower, further back…rub your fingers over that hungry little hole, tease it, just as I would, were I there." I shifted around until I could cradle the phone and still reach, and god, it was incredibly erotic to listen to his voice while I touched myself. I shivered and groaned.
"God, Michael..." I gulped in some air, wondering if I would survive this. Sex was always fantastic with him, so I wasn't surprised… but this was on the phone. Surely that couldn't get me as worked up as the real thing?
"Stroke yourself now, work your cock slowly, firm strokes from base to tip. If I were there I would cradle your balls, roll them in my hand. I'd lick the base of your smooth, bare cock, then take you in my mouth and suckle." I groaned louder and heard him panting softly, his voice hoarser now. "I can taste you, y'know. Your thick fluid on my tongue, bitter and sweet and salty. My tongue wiggling in the little slit there, teasing droplets out of you. And all the while my fingers are invading you, fucking you. Are you fucking yourself for me, Caro?"
"Yes--" I was panting now, my dick ready to explode, my hole spasming around my fingers. I'd managed to work two in, even given the awkward angle, though I couldn't do much more than wiggle them. It was frustrating as hell, because I'd have given anything to fuck myself harder while he talked me into an orgasm. "Are you?"
"I'm so close," he whispered. "I close my eyes and you're before me, on your hands and knees, your ass open and ready for me, and I slide inside you with slow thrusts…and you're so hot and tight, Caro. I can feel you ripple around me, your ass taking me deeper and deeper each time I press forward…" He was making those quiet little noises he makes when he jerks off, the rough-breathing-grunting-panting-I'm-going-to-come-in-a-minute noises. I wriggled around a little more and found an almost improbable position that allowed me fuck my fingers in faster and harder, plus stroke my cock…and still hear his voice on the phone.
"Michael--" I could hear my own desperation, my own hunger as I worked my body faster, harder.
"Are you…ready to come…?" He was close; I could hear it in his voice.
"Yes…god, yes…." Oh, not as good as with him, but so close, it felt wonderful. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the heady, heavy sound of his panting and grunting, on the sticky, wet sound of flesh slapping against flesh, echoing over the phone. I worked my cock and thrust my fingers, and it was Michael's cock inside me and Michael's hand on me, and all I had to do was push back and forward just a little bit--
A long, wordless cry poured over the phone and I jerked, my come spreading over my fingers like hot cream in thick droplets. My voice joined his, an echo of pleasure that spanned two continents, until I slumped back against the pillows, breathing fast and heavy like I'd just run a marathon.
"Holy shit," I managed, when I could breathe enough to speak. I was laughing and panting, my voice still rough and unsteady. "You bastard. You fly half-way around the world…and still manage to fuck me senseless."
He laughed, his own voice a little huskier than usual. "It's a mutual feeling, Caro, believe me." He cleared his throat and I heard the sound of him swallowing something, which made me realize how thirsty I was. "Anyway, it's always a good thing to do, when partners are away."
I grinned at the phone. "What's a good thing to do?"
"Keep the lines of communication open."
I laughed outright at that. "You're an asshole, Pierson."
I could practically picture his smile, smug and knowing. "I am. But you love me anyway."
"Yeah, I do."
"Good night, Caro. Sweet dreams."
"G'night, Michael. See you in a few days."
The phone clicked off and I stared at it for a moment, then hung up on my end. It wasn't the same, but anyone who said phone sex was boring hadn't ever had it with Michael Pierson. I still missed him like crazy, but the ache wasn't quite as strong right now. And who could say…he might even call me back tomorrow night, for an encore presentation.