Chapter 5 Barbara
BARBARA
Seb is hot—like hot. Well, at least his body is.
I zoom in again, my tongue practically lolling out of my mouth as I imagine licking those sculpted abs.
When I zoom out, I frown again at the glowing neon mask.
Famous, my ass. I bet he’s married. Or maybe even a felon.
After what happened in Emily’s building, I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw him on the news.
But how would you recognize him, you idiot?
“Shut up, me,” I grumble at my inner voice.
What am I going to do? I should totally block him. No good can come out of this.
But he’s so charming! And look at that body, yum, yum!
“Yeah,” I sigh. Great, now he has me talking to myself. Out loud, even, like some crazy person.
I look at my hot pink smart watch. He’s probably going to be online soon. I either log onto Faery Nights or I don’t. Before I can click the icon on my laptop, my phone goes off in my hand. Seb calling.
Fuck! What do I do?
“Ah, Jesus,” I whisper before I slide the bar with shaking hands. “H—hi?”
“Hi, yourself, beautiful,” Sebastian’s smooth voice comes through. “How was your day?”
Pushing my hair out of my face, I lean back in my chair and close my eyes.
“It was alright,” I murmur. “The kids were a handful, as usual. How about yours? You said you had work to do?”
Work that kept you from texting me after we exchanged pictures.
“Would have been better if you were sitting on my lap,” comes his silky reply.
I bite down on my lip. “Would you have gotten any work done, though?” I ask quietly.
His laugh is like fine whiskey. “Probably not. But it’d be worth it.”
I don’t know what to reply, so I just huff out a nervous chuckle.
He doesn’t let the silence linger. “What are your plans for the rest of the week?”
“Oh,” I breathe, grateful for the branch. “My friend, the one who’s getting married? She has her rehearsal dinner this Saturday. She’s old-fashioned, even though her husband-to-be is grumbling to no end, it’s hilarious,” I continue. “I need to buy a nice dress. And then you know how it goes.”
“Do I?” he asks, the smile in his voice evident.
I laugh and roll my eyes at myself. “Okay, maybe you don’t know. But a girl buys a new dress, so she needs new shoes, and then maybe a clutch and some jewelry. It’s a chain of events meant to devastate my bank account.”
“I’ll pay for it,” he says so smoothly that I think I imagined it. He said it like he’s my boyfriend—or my sugar daddy—and like it’s so commonplace that I shouldn’t even raise an eyebrow at it. But what the fuck? He barely knows me!
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I reply, shaking my head even though he can’t see me.
“Why not,” he murmurs. “I have more money than I know what to do with and no one to spend it on.” Maybe he doesn’t have a wife?
No married man could bring himself to say that if his other half had two hundred Manolos in her closet.
“All I ask for is a few pictures of you wearing the outfit. Simple.”
My throat clicks when I swallow. I’m still paying off my student loan. Paying for a new outfit would hurt, even if I always go off the rack.
“I… I can’t accept that, Seb,” I say with a bit of regret. “You hardly know me.”
“So, let’s change that,” he replies instantly, completely unfazed. “Tell me everything about yourself. Everything you haven’t told me yet. And while you’re at it, tell me your Venmo handle.”
I laugh with disbelief. Who is this man?
“Well,” I begin, getting up from my desk chair and throwing myself onto my bed. “My favorite colors are black and pink.”
“Mmm,” he muses. “That’s certainly a contrast.”
“I’m into creepy-cute.”
His laugh is warm in my ear. “Nothing creepy about you. You’re all cute.”
“Hey,” I protest. “I’ll let you know I can be quite scary. You haven’t seen me on Halloween.”
“Oh, yeah? Do they sell sexy zombie costumes?” he teases. I can hear him getting up and walking somewhere, too. His bed? The thought makes me cross my legs.
“How’d you figure I go for sexy?”
His answer is smooth as always: “I have you all figured out, little bee.”
We continue the conversation for long minutes, and I eventually put my phone on speaker so I can file my nails. I hate just lying still and not doing anything when I’m talking.
“So, that Venmo handle?” he murmurs after a while, clearly not giving up.
With a sigh, I tell him. “It’s at notyourbarbie.”
I love the way he laughs. Each time he does it, I feel it travel from my eardrums, over my skin, and land straight in my pussy.
“You’re amazing,” he says. “Not just beautiful, but funny, smart, interesting… Just amazing.”
My heart stutters at his words. I can feel my face getting hot. Damn, he better not be a serial killer. Because I can’t remember the last time I fell for a guy this hard, this fast before. And I don’t even know what he looks like.
“You’re not bad yourself,” I breathe. “Charming. Witty. Built like a Greek god.”
“Baby, you’re built like a Penthouse centerfold,” he murmurs. “I’m looking at the selfie you sent right now. Can’t believe those kids get to look at those tits all day.”
My eyes bug out. “I’m wearing a buttoned-up sweater! It’s completely appropriate!”
“My thoughts aren’t though,” he growls. “I’ve been hard all day, ever since you sent it.”
Oh. Oh. Is it going to be that kind of call?
“Are you hard right now?” I ask boldly.
“I am rock hard for you, little bee. Listening to your voice. Looking at your picture. Damn. You drive me insane.”
The dark edge in his voice drives me insane, and I flip over to my back so I can squeeze my boobs, pretending it’s his strong, veiny hands on them.
“Maybe you could show me,” I suggest, dying to see what he’s working with.
Please, don’t let him have a micro penis, please.
“Naughty girl,” he hums, but I can hear him moving around. There’s a rustle of clothes, then the sound of a camera going off. He takes a couple of pictures while I wait impatiently. “You think you can handle this?” he asks just as my phone buzzes.
I scramble to pick it up, careful not to hang up by mistake. When I open the message with the picture, my jaw drops.
“Jesus,” I breathe. Am I drooling? It feels like I’m drooling.
His dick is just… so pretty. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a dick I could say is pretty.
The skin looks pale pink in the dim light of his bedroom, and his hands aren’t the only thing with yummy veins.
There’s even a shiny drop at the tapered tip, like he squeezed it out just for me.
It looks just the right length in his hand, and thick enough to feel for days.
“Good or bad?” he asks, and he almost sounds shy beneath the bravado.
“I want to have it for dinner,” I say quietly, my hand already snaking under my waistband. “It’s delicious.”
His growl makes me arch into my palm, and I gasp at the pressure of my fingers on my clit.
“Are you touching yourself, little bee?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “Are you?”
“Fuck yeah. You think I wouldn’t be after you say your hand is on your pretty pussy? God damn, woman.”
He doesn’t know it’s pretty. But maybe I could show him?
“Do you want to see?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods?” he huffs irreverently.
Giggling, I pull down my sweatpants and panties, then bend my legs and spread them.
I slowly push a finger inside, pretending it’s that gorgeous cock of his stretching me.
Then I pull it out halfway, enough for the light of my flash to catch the shine of slickness.
I take the picture and send it to him quickly, before I change my mind.
Sending nudes to a stranger off the internet is the definition of insanity. But I’m too freaking horny to care.
“Fuck, Barbara,” Seb hisses. “Are you fucking that cunt pretending it’s me?”
I hear the wet slap of skin that lets me know he’s jerking off hard, and I moan in response, my finger now strumming my clit, chasing an orgasm.
“Ah, shit, little bee, moan for me again,” he commands, and I instantly obey, not holding back any sounds as I bring myself to the edge, listening to his heavy breaths.
“I’m close,” I admit in a squeaky voice. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten myself this close this fast without a toy before.
“Fuck, me too, firecracker. I’m gonna come all over that wet pussy of yours. Mark it as mine. My fucking territory. Mine!”
His words should scare me. Instead, they make my eyes roll to the back of my head as I arch up and come with a long, low whine, waves of bliss spreading through every muscle.
“Barbara!” Seb growls, then lets out a delicious, deep moan that makes me shake harder. I love it when a man isn’t afraid to show it feels good.
There’s nothing but our heavy breathing for a few minutes. It doesn’t feel awkward, or long, or lonely. We’re coming down from a high together, even though we’re apart.
“That was amazing,” he whispers eventually, making me shiver. “I came all over my stomach.”
I can’t help but moan again at the visual. “I wish I could lick it off,” I say just as quietly. It feels so intimate, our own little bubble of post-coital bliss.
“You’re gonna have your fill, trust me, baby,” he says.
It feels like a threat, but not one I’ll shy away from.
I want that dick in my mouth. But I’m too afraid to suggest we meet up.
What if he says no? What if I’m disappointed?
I’d rather stay delusional for a bit longer.
Maybe he can get me through Emily’s wedding, then I’ll ask.
“You should go to sleep,” Seb suggests a while later, after we’ve talked about everything and anything, the banter as easy as when we’re in game.
I didn’t even notice how late it got. Unbelievable.
“I guess so,” I reply with a yawn. “Talk to you tomorrow?”
“You will. And, Bee? Thank you.”
I flush at his words. Did he just thank me for an orgasm?
“You too,” I mumble, then say my goodnight.
After peeing and brushing my teeth, I change into my PJs and get under the covers. It’s then I notice a notification from Venmo. I gasp loudly.
“Two thousand fucking dollars? He’s insane!”
The message reads:
For the dress. And the shoes. And the necklace you’ll wear while thinking of me.
I’m in so much trouble with this man.