Chapter 16 Unplanned
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
unplanned
MARK
When did things go so awry? A run around the park normally clears my head, but here I am, in the shower, fisting my length as if I’m punishing myself, thinking of last night. I come hard and long, holding on to the wall as my legs shake from the pleasure and a hefty hill-run.
So yesterday was an utter failure, that’s clear.
Alice is still on my mind. Even more so. She’s digging her way into me.
I dry off and attempt to push her out of my mind. I lost precious work-time yesterday, but I must get through the plans for the next quarter today.
I need to focus.
The phone vibrates, and I snatch it up like a love-sick teenager, cursing myself in the process.
Good morning, Merry Man, thank you for last night.
What are you up to? I just woke up
Good morning, wonderland
So if you’re still in bed … what are you up to?
I know what I’m picturing, and it’s not helping me move on with my plans for the day.
Thinking of you… What does Robin Hood wear in the morning?
Nothing. On my way out of the shower
But I’m going to need another one. A cold one.
I wish I could’ve seen what I felt yesterday
I’ll show you mine…
Oh, Robin. Here I was, thinking you were a giver
I decide not to answer. Letting her sweat for a bit. I stare down at those three dots moving on my screen, and then they stop. Ah, she’s given up on a response.
Hold on.
A photo.
It’s a close-up selfie. Just enough from lips to bosom to reveal her beauty, and not enough to see who she is. Cheeky.
My body reacts to the seductive way she bites her lip and the hint of a cleavage.
Her smooth tanned skin stretches across a delicate neck and prominent collarbones, and is that a hint of a tattoo I can see on the shoulder?
I can’t recall seeing any tattoos on her when she was dressed up as Alice, but there’s clearly something here.
I trace the dark lines that look like leaves to where they stop just before her collarbone. She looks soft. She is soft. The feel of her velvet skin and amazing thighs lingers on my hand. The taste of her on my tongue.
Thought you might need an example. Your turn
I follow suit and send her a picture of my torso, making sure she gets a full view of my pecs and as much of the V leading down without making it a dick-pic.
You must think I’m a bit of a sex pervert now
I’m not complaining. I’ve already masturbated to the thought of you this morning. I can do it again
I wish I could text with one hand! I will need the other for more urgent business further south
What a horny little devil.
Since I met you I’ve been almost painfully turned on. It’s torture
Tell me about it.
I’m sure I can find a way to help
Yes, please. Tell me what you want me to do
Fuck, where to start? I want to see her. Every inch of her.
Do you have a tall mirror?
Yes?
Go stand in front of it. You need to be my eyes.
While waiting for a response, I lay down on the bed, stroking my hard cock. Going slow, imagining it’s her hands. The hands that were clutching my arms and digging into my hair yesterday.
And then
I struggle messaging with one hand.
I’ll call you
Oh?
You’ll have your hand free for other business
And then nothing but ghost dots.
Come on. Don’t be shy.
Okay
I call, and she picks up immediately.
“Hello.” Her voice is low, almost a whisper.
“Why are you whispering?” I ask, but lower my voice to mirror hers.
“Long story,” she answers, her voice still low. I’m relieved she doesn’t elaborate while I’ve got my hand around my dick.
“Are you standing in front of the mirror?”
“Yes,” she breathes.
“Naked?”
“Yes.”
What does she look like, standing there? Her long brown hair falling in wild waves, framing her round tits. Her nipples ready to be ravaged.
“You need to be my eyes. Tell me what you look like.”
“Umm … which part?”
I know where I want to go next…
“Slide your hand down and open your slit with two fingers. Look at yourself.”
Her breathing intensifies on the other end.
“Keep going.” I’m nearly growling. Stroking myself slowly, I imagine her looking at herself in the mirror, biting her lip like in her photo. Is she all pink and swollen already? “Tell me about your pussy.”
She huffs. “I’m not used to dirty talk.”
“Do you mind it?”
She pauses for a beat. “No,” she sighs. “I’m so turned on. So wet.”
I sense she’s not one for describing herself, but I picture her glistening and ready for me.
“Touch yourself the way you like to be touched. Tell me what you’re doing, what you feel.”
“My fingers glide over my … clit?” She makes a small huffing sound as if embarrassed to say the word out loud. “And down to my opening. It’s so tender. I like moving my fingers up and down slowly, pretending it’s you.”
“Good girl, keep going,” I rasp, and she mewls in response, which makes it hard for me to focus. I’m sure she can hear my breathing is more laboured now.
“Are you touching yourself, Robin?” she asks, whispering now, and I hear rustling, maybe of a sheet, like she’s moved to the bed. “Thinking of me?”
“Yes,” is all I manage, and I take a deep breath, holding on longer. I can normally go for as long as needed, but she’s really got me hot. “Slide your fingers down to your opening,” I tell her.
“Mmm,” she moans, and I love that I can do this to her with just my voice.
“Mmm, indeed, let those fingers slide just inside you. Then up again to your clit and back down. It’s my tongue tasting you. Lapping you up. I want to have you in my mouth, Alice.”
“Yes,” she whimpers. “I’m close.” I picture her on top of a white bed, hair fanned out around her, and her hand moving faster and faster, her legs widening as she nears the edge.
“Come for me, Alice. Come with me.”
The moans she lets out make me lose control, and as they build up and crescendo into a muffled scream, I come hard onto my stomach, stifling a loud roar into a groan.
“Oh my God,” she says in a muffled voice. I imagine her face pressed into a pillow, maybe a sheen of sweat on her forehead when she turns back around. Her hair messy from thrashing around.
“You make the sexiest sounds,” I say.
“I do? Oh gosh, now I’m embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. You’re intensely hot.”
“Can I tell you something?” she asks, her tone elevated.
“Please do.” I smile into the phone as I get up to wipe myself down.
“Having your voice in my ear like that really did it for me. This was the most powerful orgasm I’ve had.”
“You mean by your own hand?”
“No, ever. I’ve never had this intensity with anyone.”
In a weird way, this makes me feel special. Fuck, the things I could do to her to blow her mind … if I could get my hands on her. “Oh,” is all I manage to say.
“You nearly made me come last night, you know, if it wasn’t for the bloody robot voice.”
“Nearly doesn’t count. I need to meet you.”
I shake my head at myself. What am I saying? I was supposed to get her out of my mind, and now all I can think about is her face when she comes. Seeing her smiling up at me, more satisfied than ever before, knowing it was because of me. And this chemistry we have.
It seems I need a new plan. Maybe we can do more of this. And then I can decide what I should do. I’m sure it’ll fizzle out before I have to decide anything.
“I’m here when you’re ready,” she says softly. “But for a date, I’m not a plaything.”
“Of course.”
“As much as I enjoyed this.” She lets out a laugh, a puff of air into the phone, and I swear I can hear her smiling. I picture those dimples that are etched into my memory from that first night.
The conversation feels like it’s drawing to an end, but I don’t want it to. I want her voice in my ear all day. I want to know what she likes, what she looks like when she eats, how that long hair flows around her face when she dances, what she does all day while I’m in the office.
“Don’t go,” I say. “Tell me more about your modelling job.”
“You know, normally people ask questions. You’re quite demanding.”
“Does it bother you?” I tease.
“Hmm. Not today. Feeling mellow.”
I chuckle, and she sighs.
“You said you love to dress up. Is it part of it?”
“Yes, it is. Remember I said I used to paint?”
“Yes.”
“It’s something I miss every day. Without it, a part of who I am is gone.
” She huffs, almost like a small laugh, but I imagine there’s sadness in her face.
“It probably sounds silly to you, but … the atmosphere modelling has been my sole creative outlet in the last few years. And it makes me feel in control of my path. I chose this job.”
I give her a moment to see if she will tell me more about her painting career, but I interpret it as something highly personal since she doesn’t explain of her own accord.
Something for a later date.
“Is that your primary job?” I ask instead.
“Not time-wise, but it pays the bills. My day job is new, and it may or may not pan out, but at least I’m doing something creative again.”
That sounds promising. “That’s great. What is it?”
“I’m not entirely sure how it’ll pan out. I can tell you more later,” she says. “What about you, Robin? Tell me about something that makes you happy.”
“Like what?”
“What’s your favourite book?”
“Books make you happy?”
“Yes, I love reading.” There’s a different tone to her voice when she talks about things she loves. I can almost hear her face lighting up. Maybe those dimples are popping.
“What’s your favourite book, then?” I ask and realise I’m grinning too.
“I asked you first.”
“The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood,” I say, and she laughs, but I’m not joking. “I read it until it fell apart. I always liked Robin Hood as a character.”
“Are you a mischievous rebel, Robin?” she teases.
I laugh, unsure of how much to share.
“Hardly,” I say, going for honesty. What is this if not an opportunity to just be me? “I’m appreciated for being principled and steady.”
“Sexy rule-follower?”
“Hah. It was actually Robin Hood’s sense of freedom that drew me in as a child. He inspired me to carve my own path, to be my own boss.”
“Shit, my mum’s complaining about something downstairs. I’m so sorry, but I need to go.”
Jesus fucking Christ. Her mum is there? I sit up.
“How old are you?” I ask.
She snorts. “I’m twenty-nine.”
“But you live with your mum?”
“No, I live with my big brother. For now. Sorry, it’s a long story. My parents are here now, though.”
“Okay, Alice. You can tell me more next time when you’re not in a rush.”
“I’d like that. Have a good day, Robin Hood.”
“You too, perfectly old young Alice.”
She hangs up, and the world is quiet. But not in a relaxing way. Normally, quiet is what I prefer.
I stare at the ceiling. My status quo has shifted.
This is a world I don’t know.
For the first time, I don’t feel like being alone.
It doesn’t feel right. I look to the side of my bed where she would be if she were mine.
Her long dark hair would be fanned out around her here instead.
She’d have a big smile on her face, framed by those dimples.
The image in my head feels so familiar. Like I know her already. And she belongs right here next to me.