Can't Touch This (Can't Touch This #1)

My hand curled tighter, punishing and pleasuring myself. “Screw the conference. Just come here. Damn, I need you. I can’t describe how much I need you.”

“You don’t need to describe. I get it.”

I slid lower in the wooden kitchen chair wishing I was in bed and had space to masturbate the crap out of myself. Screw waiting. I couldn’t wait another second, let alone another twenty-four hours.

“Oh shit, is that the time?” Vesper’s drug sexed voice switched to professional panic. “I’ve got to go.”

“No!” I jerked, massaging the severe, did I mention severe, case of blue balls she’d left me with. “Not until we finish this. I can’t stop for a second time, Ves. Jizz will come out of my ears if you make me stop.”

“Ry…”

“Jesus, you called me Ry.” My back arched as I stroked myself. “Do it again and I’ll hose down my kitchen.”

She giggled. “Stop. I order you to stop. I did. I’m waving my hand in the air.” Something tapped the phone. “See those were my fingers. I really need to go and you’re not coming without me. That hose is mine.”

I couldn’t speak. It took all my willpower to remove my hand and sit with the tingling, growling pain in my groin. I’d never been so turned on and she wasn’t even here.

Who was this bloody woman?

“Ry?”

“Goddammit, you have to stop calling me that if you want me to obey you, VV. I’m not going to sleep a wink tonight.”

“Aww, you called me your pet-name.” She sighed happily, then tried to offer moronic advice. “As for the issue you have—go for a run with your pack of dogs. I’m sure that will help.”

“Probably not.”

My mind raced as I did my best to think of fat wrinkly elephants riding around on circus balls. It never failed to deflate me. Mainly because the wrinkly elephants reminded me of old man testicles and the cruelty of them riding a rolling ball made me angry at the stupidity of humans. (Bet if you had a hard-on, you’d have lost it by now—see, it works? Genius. Copyrighted by me, by the way).

“Hey, Ves…one last question before you go.”

She sucked in a breath. “One more.”

“Those fingers you’re holding up with the iron willpower you possess…”

“Yes, what about them?”

I cupped the phone. “Are they wet?” I breathed hard, on a knife-edge of need as I waited for her reply. When it faintly came all I could do was groan and cut off the call—just in case I grabbed my car keys and charged over there like a demented knight ready to pillage the princess.

“Yes. Drenched.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

———————

Vesper

SLEEP WASN’T EASY LAST NIGHT.

After the conference call (that did somehow manage to take my mind off the insanely intoxicating Ryder Carson), I knocked back two more vodka and limes, and crawled into bed.

Everything—and I did mean everything—was a sensual tease.

My night shorts had a seam between my pussy lips that had never been a problem before but were now the most erotically maddening undergarments ever. The long-sleeved cotton shirt with the words I Bark You with a Pomeranian on the front were the least appealing attire but somehow the material became silk and sex.

My eyes were scratchy and a pesky cough left over from the flu still lingered, amplified by tiredness and the stress of not being allowed to come.

The flu dregs were fading, but I hoped like hell Ryder didn’t catch it. I wasn’t a patient person when I wanted something.