Chapter 5

Muttering under my breath, I stalked into my apartment in a high dudgeon. "Stupid, too-hot-for-his-own-good asshat."

"Ooh, sounds like I missed out. What happened?" asked Jezzie. She emerged from the kitchen munching on some chips.

I needed them more than she did so I snatched the bag from her hands and flounced over to the couch, where I collapsed. It took several handfuls of sour cream and onion crunchiness before I could tell her the events of the evening.

The bitch laughed. "Damn. I wish I'd been there. You kicking his balls up into his stomach would have made an awesome video for your fan page."

Who cared about a video? The man had dissed me. Treated me like I was a…girl. Ugh.

I stuffed another handful of chips in my mouth. Some women turned to chocolate in times of stress, I preferred salty goodness, and if I couldn't indulge in the bedroom variety, then the crunchy, out-of-a-bag kind would do.

"Speaking of fan pages, did you know we already have over five thousand followers? You're a hit."

The news perked my irritated spirt. "Really?"

Jezzie bobbed her head. "We've also got tons of names for you to check out and even a few applications for the sidekick position. Now, I was thinking." Ooh, dangerous. "Interviews seem like a piss-poor way to test your new sidekick's mettle. It occurred to me what we really should do, instead, is make them accomplish some tasks. Things to show they're the right fit for you. That they can understand and predict your needs."

"Like fetching my coffee and making sure it's the right temperature with just the right amount of cream," I added helpfully.

"No. Harder stuff. Television-worthy shit. My buddy over at HBC says this would make a perfect reality miniseries, and we've already hashed out the contracts."

HBC, Hell's Broadcasting Corporation, talk about the big times. "Me? On television?" Hot damn. I'd need to go shopping again.

Jezzie went over the details of the contract with me and gave me the knife to prick my finger. Hell's bureaucracy didn't rely on unreadable signatures to seal contracts. Nothing but one-of-a-kind blood would do. As to the show itself, basically, I needed to do nothing. No lines to memorize or scripts to follow. Without me even being aware of it, cameras would trail me and the contestants selected to compete for the position of minion. I'd have to make sure I looked my best at all times. I also really hoped they hadn't taped this evening's fiasco.

How was I supposed to get any respect when Drake—with his bare chest and big muscles—insisted on treating me like a fragile damsel?

Now if only my body would stop humming in excitement at his actions and words.

At least I had the HBC deal to distract me from Drake. I went to bed excited about becoming a television star, but I tossed and turned as a certain muscular somebody kept interrupting my thoughts of fame and fortune.

Attraction to a male wasn't a new feeling for me. Thinking about him, though, after I'd left his presence? I couldn't remember that happening before.

Love 'em and leave 'em—I'd grown up faithfully following our family motto. My longest relationship with an incubus—my blood protected me from their soul sucking, that or I had no soul—lasted less than a month, a record for me.

I tried thinking about anyone else, even the superhot Damon character from the television show TheVampire Diaries, but over and over, the rugged face and body of Drake superimposed itself over my usual fantasy figures. Maybe it was because he'd left me horny. I needed some kind of explanation for why I couldn't help remembering Drake's muscular body as he'd slugged it out with the escaped soul. His smooth, tanned skin that I still, even after his obnoxious behavior, wanted to lick.

Lick. Touch. Rub…

Shuddering in arousal, I gave in to my libido and pulled open the drawer to my nightstand. I pulled out "Bob," the boyfriend who never disappointed me. Long and hard, his black rubber length was just the thing I needed to sate my pussy tonight. I dripped some oil on his rubbery length then rubbed the bulbous head across my clit, but while it felt good, I needed more.

Closing my eyes, I pictured Drake, his chest slick with sweat, his dark hair rumpled and his blue eyes smoky with desire. My sex flooded with wetness, eager for more.

I wondered how his cock looked. Long and lean or thick and juicy? Would he fuck me fast or torture me with long, deep strokes? I worked my rubber phallus into my sex, sliding it in and out, my thoughts of Drake exciting me, but my orgasm hung just out of reach. A rubber substitute just couldn't take the place of the real thing.

Frustrated and beyond aroused, I pushed faster, my breath coming in pants. But when my cell phone rang, satiation slipped away.

Cursing technology but wondering who could be calling at this hour, I let go of Bob—after all it wasn't as if I was getting anywhere—and grabbed my cell. A glance at the display showed a number I didn't recognize. Maybe, if I was lucky, it would be an obscene caller who'd have suggestions on how I could get off.

I answered in my sexiest phone sex voice. "Hello."

"Are you touching yourself?"

At the query, I almost dropped the phone in shock. I hadn't actually expected a naughty caller. Things were looking up. "Who is this?" I asked.

"I can't stop thinking of you," my anonymous caller replied instead. "I wanted you to know that, even though you did your best to turn me into a eunuch, I have recovered and I'm stroking my big cock right now."

My eyes widened, and even in my shock over him calling, my pussy began to throb. "Drake? Is that you? How did you get my number?"

"I have my ways. But you never answered my question. Are you touching yourself?"

I thought for maybe a nanosecond about hanging up, but as usual, my hormones did my thinking, and instead, I put him on speakerphone and placed my cell on the pillow beside me.

"I'm naked," I told him huskily. "And very, very wet."

Drake groaned. "Oh, baby. You are so fucking hot. Squeeze your tits for me and pinch your nipples."

Forget my earlier irritation. His words were totally what I needed right now. I wasn't ashamed to admit having him give me orders of a sexual kind excited me. I grabbed my breasts and eagerly obeyed. Since I found myself already aroused, this touching on his command just heightened my pleasure, and I moaned.

"Just so you know, babe, I've got my hand around my cock. It's so fucking thick and hard right now. I'm imagining it between your tits, the tip of my shaft touching your lips."

My hand found Bob, and I slid him between my breasts, which I pushed together. I licked the tip, imagining it was a real pulsing rod, Drake's rod.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a gravelly voice.

"I've got my dildo between my tits, and I'm sucking it," I answered honestly.

"Fuck." The expletive was followed by some heavy breathing. "You're going to make me lose control, babe. Put your dildo between your legs. I want you to rub it against your clit. It's what I intended to do to you tonight. I was going to rub your little nubbin with my cock until you squirmed and juiced yourself."

His words painted a vivid picture, and I almost came, especially when I rubbed my rubber toy against my clit. I closed my eyes and pictured Drake above me, his thick prick poking at me as I arched my hips, begging for him to fuck me. Faster, I frictioned my swollen nub, my breath coming fast.

"Tell me what you want," he growled.

"I want you to fuck me," I panted. "Slide your cock into my pussy and fuck me hard."

"Yes," he hissed. "I'm inside your sweet pussy now. Can you feel me, pounding you?"

I slammed my dildo in and pumped myself hard. "Yes," I cried. "Harder."

He didn't speak, just grunted, and I mewled as I slammed my phallus in and out.

"Come for me," he said in a strained voice.

And I did, keening as my channel, with a mighty quiver, finally crossed the edge into pleasure. Blissful waves made my sex contract hard, and I cried out with each pulse. I heard Drake shout as he found his own release.

Finally sated, I slid my dildo out of my happily throbbing pussy and grabbed the phone. "Thank you for calling Sally's phone sex service," I said in a sultry tone. "Expect a bill for thirty-nine ninety-five. Bye."

Then I hung up. Great phone sex didn't mean I forgave him his laughter. He'd have to work harder to gain my forgiveness. On his knees, sucking my pussy, for starters.

With a smile, I went to sleep.