And I knew when we got off the phone; it would be a question that lingered in her mind all day: Just what was I doing on the other end of the phone?
I groaned when the first rope of come hit my palm. Her breathing picked up on speakerphone, and a small whine escaped her, one of shock, like she was on the cusp of asking me if I was okay, but it stopped on the tip of her tongue.
“I’ll see you first thing tomorrow, Lucy.”
“Thank you, Mr—Godrick—Rick—” she stuttered and corrected herself a few times. “I look forward to the interview.”
“Have a good day, Lucy.”
“You too,” she whispered.
“And Lucy?” I reached toward my desk to gather a few tissues to clean myself up. I hissed when I wiped the come off my oversensitive cock.
“Yes?”
I imagined her pale cheeks red from a flush. I bet it traveled down her neck to her chest.
“I look forward to seeing you.” I pressed the red button that ended the call, and when silence fell in my office, I immediately wanted to call her back to hear her voice again.
I had it bad, and I had never even met her.
Looking at her picture again, I noticed a droplet of come right on her mouth. A feral grin spread across my face when I saw my come on her. I planned on making that happen one day. I used my thumb to swiped the cream off her lip and opened my desk drawer to place her file in there. I wanted access to her picture whenever I wanted.
And soon, I’d have all the access to Lucy Green in the flesh.
A knock at the door made me tuck myself back in my pants. Standing, I zipped myself up and strolled toward the door to see Barbara. “You have a meeting in five minutes, Mr. Stoneridge.”
How the hell would I sit through a meeting with Lucy on my mind, shouting to God as I drove my cock inside her?
Chapter Three
Lucy
“How does this look?” I twisted from side to side as Maria stared at my reflection in the mirror.
“Damn girl, you have some wicked curves.” Maria clapped as if I was putting on a show.
“Shut up. I have to be at Stoneridge in an hour and a half. What do you think of the outfit?” The bright yellow A-line skirt was high-waisted, and the shirt I wore was a simple, V-cut, white blouse with slender sleeves cupping my biceps. My nude heels were short, with a strap across my ankle. My hair was done, and half of it I wore pinned back with a pearl clip. Light makeup, mascara, and pink lip gloss completed my look; I was ready.
Ready to meet the man that made me toss and turn in my bed all night. I was anxious for the interview, but all that kept running through my mind was what happened on the phone. His voice was deep— the deepest I had ever heard— like when someone takes a shot of whiskey and the burn makes it difficult to speak, and I wanted to drink it down. It wasn’t the only thing that had me questioning the man. He grunted, a pleasurable grunt, not one of curiosity or question, but one of pleasure.
The man intrigued me. Surely, he wouldn’t masturbate on the phone when he was calling me for an interview, would he?
“You aren’t telling me something….” Maria leaned against the door and crossed her arms. “And the outfit is perfect. Don’t change. You look hot.”
“That’s not why I want the job.”
“That’s why you will get the job, Lucy. Welcome to America, where women only get where they are going by how they look.”
“Jeez, so cynical.” I walked over to my vanity and grabbed my bottle of perfume. I had this love for old perfume bottles, the one with the puffer ball attached to it. I wasn’t sure why, but it made me feel prettier. I loved the vintage style; it made me feel classy in a sense.
She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I’m just saying how it is.”
“You’ve never told me what you do. We have known each other for an entire three days, and I don’t know everything about you. Spill,” I teased Maria. She always asked about me, but she never told me anything personal about herself. It bothered me.
Maria glanced at her watch, and her brows lifted. “That’s because I usually work Wednesday to Saturday. It’s Tuesday. I’m a tattoo artist. I ink people for a living.”
“Now, that makes a lot of sense.”