Chapter Eight
The clerk refunds me for the whole week. When I bum rush the counter, her fingers fly over the screen before she cranks the register and hands me a stack of bills.
If Wick’s headed here, then I need to be anywhere else.
My feet skim over the sidewalk as I scurry to Violet’s car.
Actually, I know exactly where to go.
I’m still in my work slacks and heels. I need to be better equipped if I’m going on the run in truth.
And Wick isn’t at my apartment anymore.
The whole drive, I develop a mental list of the things I’ll need on the run. Passport as a precaution, the roll of cash in my unmatched sock ball, clothes—the list goes on. It chants in my mind like a meditation to keep the anxiety at bay.
I park in my neighbor’s reserved spot by the front door and pray she doesn’t come home from the restaurant early.
As I charge up to my second floor apartment, I pass my super headed into his office.
“Hey, Annie!” he calls out. “Did your boyfriend catch you?”
“Who?” I puff as I vault two stairs at a time.
“You know, Wick. He was here earlier.” He leans around the railings to call up to me. “Brought me a bottle of Blue Label. Nice guy. Well done on that one.”
“You’re a damn traitor, John!” I holler from the landing.
My apartment door slams shut before I hear his reply. Inside my tiny one bedroom apartment, nothing seems amiss.
Dishes are still drying on the rack.
Mail on the side table by the door.
No time to search now.
Quick feet and faster hands toss as much as I can into a bag so I can rabbit before Wick comes back.
And I change Vi’s contact info in my phone so I don’t accidentally confuse them.
Purses and shoe boxes fly as I dig my duffle out of the back of my closet. It was so nicely organized, but I’m in too much of a hurry and stress overrides the impulse to keep it pretty.
The phone chirps, but I ignore it. He’s probably getting to the hotel and realizing I’m gone.
Underwear, socks, shirt, pants—great handfuls are indiscriminately tossed into the duffel. I ditch my heels for sneakers I know are by the door but don’t bother to change otherwise.
The phone chirps again, but I don’t have time for Wick when I’m busy running from him.
I knock the entire line of my products in the bathroom into the duffel and toss my hair products in.
Two quick beeps sound in quick succession from my phone.
The man is inescapable. He isn’t even here, yet for some reason he can still annoy me.
An irrational, petty part of my hindbrain wants to torment him right back. Anxious Annie overrides Cautious Annie and lets Reckless Annie have a steam vent for some of the tension.
Before I can think better of it, I climb into my already rumpled bed and wrap the comforter around myself. I roll up like a burrito and exhale as I rub my face on it.
If he wants my scent, then I’ll gladly tease him with what he isn’t getting.
The phone chirps again. What does this fucker want?
Shimmying my phone out of my pocket but still encased in cotton, I open the messages.
Dammit! I poke my head out of the roll and frantically search the room. I don’t see any cameras, but he has to have them somewhere.
“Can you hear me, Wick?” I ask.
The phone beeps again.
“You’re insufferable,” I mutter.
I wrestle with the cotton to unroll from the blankets. I need to get moving before he comes back.
The phone buzzes again, but this time it’s an incoming call.
“I’m not picking up,” I say to the empty room while struggling with the sheets.
But the phone doesn’t stop. It rings to voicemail and immediately starts again. Frustrated, I hit the green flashing button to answer the call on speakerphone.
“I’m busy,” I growl.
“I’m aware. It’s adorable watching you struggle to get free.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I mutter as I finally liberate myself from the comforter.
“You’re hoping to tease me with your scent?” he asks.
“Maybe.”
“There’s a reason you know your scent will drive me wild, mate.”
“Stop with the mate business already!”
He growls, and my traitorous libido makes me halt dead in my tracks. Full stop, frozen in time, my body ceases to move in its instinctual response to that rumble from his chest.
He does it again, adding more of a snarl to it, and my face burns bright with hot blood. My skin heats and my breasts tingle in the sense memory.
“Fuck, Annie. Stay where you are. I’m coming to you,” he groans through the phone.
“No, Wick,” I force out.
He grumbles, but the phone beeps again.
Accept video call?
I stare at it while it rings. I suppose it doesn’t hurt that he knows where I am. If anything, answering means I’ll learn where he is and how long I have.
Wick’s handsome face greets me with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s in a familiar beige room with white sheets.
“That was fast,” I comment.
“Don’t talk,” he growls. “Just listen.”
I roll my eyes but wait for him to continue.
“I’m going to find you, Annie, and when I do, I’m going to claim you as my mate. Do you understand me? You’re mine forever.”
He’s glaring at me through the phone so fervently I worry he’ll have figured out how to reach through the screen.
“That’s more a threat than an offer,” I reply.
“The only threat I am to you is your ability to walk when I’m through with you. That’s no threat; it’s a promise.”
“Well, with an offer like that, how can I possibly say no?” I deadpan.
“You can’t, gorgeous. The mate bond ties us both, including you to me. We’re fated. That isn’t going to change. I intend to remind you that you belong with me every morning when we wake up and every night before we go to bed.”
My eyelids droop on their own, and I sigh at that thought, only to remember he can see me. I fix my poker face.
He chuckles, and it’s this dark, rich vibration that I feel in my soul.
“If you come in the sheets, the scent will be stronger,” he informs me.
“I already told you no to phone sex.”
“Look at the screen, Annie.”
There, on the other end, Wick lounges on the bed. He’s sitting up, a few pillows stacked behind him, with his shirt unbuttoned. The line of hair on his lower abdomen leads downward to his exposed, half-hard cock in his hand.
“Stay,” he begs. “Have some fun with me and earn extra time to run. I’ll give you five minutes.”
“Why would you ever do that?”
“Because I know I’ll find you. The more willing you are when I do, the better it is for us both.”
I debate his proposition. I still have to dig my passport and licensing paperwork out of my desk, just in case I need to run farther than anticipated, and then get it all down to Violet’s car. What he’s asked for means he has to stay precisely where he is, but so do I.
“Half an hour,” I reply.
“Ten minutes.”
“Twenty-nine minutes.”
“Fifteen. Final offer, or I’ll come get you now and relieve both of our stresses at once.”
“Fine, fifteen,” I mutter.
...which I suppose is a strange reaction to a handsome man asking for phone sex.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“Exactly what you’re doing. Strip naked and lay in the bed. Let me watch you touch yourself to my voice and the thoughts I feed into your mind.”
There is no circumstance in which I get naked right now.
So instead, I strip off my pants and crawl onto the bed. I’ve still got my blouse on, and with my comfy, full coverage underwear I’m pretty concealed.
Plus, it’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked.
And maybe, just maybe, I’m looking forward to this too.
Just don’t tell Wick that.
“Such a good girl for me,” Wick purrs, and the tone goes straight to my core. “Touch yourself to the sound of my voice. Do exactly as I say.”
I tilt my head at him and wait for his instructions.
Instead of responding immediately, he rearranges some pillows on his bed to prop the phone up.
“Put your hand in your panties, but don’t touch yourself yet.”
With a deep breath, I push my fingers under the band of my underwear and rest them between my thighs. I have to spread my legs obscenely for him to see everything, and that’s probably the point. The outline of my digits is clearly visible through the thin material.
“Feel that heat between your legs? That’s your body responding to me. Even if you want to deny we’re mates, you can’t deny the effect we have on each other. Run a finger straight through your center. Tell me how wet you are.”
I glare at the screen, but he only smirks.
“Do as I say, Annie, or I’ll spank your ass red the moment I find you.”
Rolling my eyes, I do as he instructs. I’m so aroused, my finger slides easily through my center.
“Well?” he asks.
“You know I’m wet,” I grumble.
“So reluctant for someone so turned on,” he says with a chuckle. “How wet are you, gorgeous? Would you rather show me?”
I don’t think I can bring myself to talk dirty. I don’t know what to say, and I feel awkward in this strange imbalance between wanting him and not. I don’t want to encourage him, but also, I want the 15 minutes.
And fine, yes, he’s so fucking delicious. The camera angle means I can watch him stroke himself while he grips the sheets with his other hand.
Instead of answering, I pan my phone downward and hold my underwear to the side for him to drink in.
“Fucking hell, Annie,” he groans. His idle fingers sink inside the mattress to claw the fabric.
“Wick?” I whisper.
“Don’t you stop, gorgeous. Two fingers this time.”
I do as he asks, sweeping two fingers through my pussy and parting the digits to show him my opening. He strokes faster and faster, his shaft fully hard and straining in his hands.
“That’s it, exactly like that. Roll your fingers over your clit with each stroke. I’m going to match the rhythm.”
He lets me set the pace, his hand moving with mine.
“I wish you were naked. I bet your nipples are rock hard. Faster, Annie,” he grunts.
I oblige, moving to insert them into my cunt.
“No,” Wick demands, the tone harsh. “The only way you come with something in you is if it’s my cock. In fact, from now on, if you want to come, you call me. You don’t orgasm otherwise.”
“ Wick ,” I whine.
“Your orgasms belong to me now. I’m responsible for you, and that includes your physical needs. Do not. Touch yourself. Alone. You’re mine .”
My fingers stutter over the last word.
He growls at my response. “ You are mine. Rub your swollen little clit because I tell you to. Because I’m telling you to get off. Show me what’s mine. Let me take care of what’s mine.”
My head drops back onto the pillows, and my arm droops.
“Focus, Annie,” he snaps. “Faster. Soak that pretty pink pussy for me.”
His cock is an angry red, the head bulging in his fingers.
“Almost there, gorgeous. A little harder. That’s it. Fuck, I need to be inside you again. Being apart is torture. All I think of all day is your face when you come and the smell of your neck.”
My breathing speeds and my skin warms. My gaze droops as I force myself to keep watching Wick jack himself, even though I’m desperate to close my eyes and focus on his voice.
“That’s it. Just like that,” he murmurs. “Look at how your body’s reacting. The muscles in your thighs are straining. Fuck, I love your curves. You’re the definition of seduction. I could ravish you and not come up for days.”
I let out a thin whine, and his dark chuckle amplifies the tension in my nerves.
I’m a slingshot, stretched as far as I can go, but only he can release me.
“Not yet, Annie. A little more.”
His hand slows to a steady, harsh pace, and I focus on it so intently I swear I can recreate it.
“Almost there, mate. So close. Focus on your clit now. Both fingers.”
My fingers fly, and I have to breathe through the surge of endorphins as my body rides the edge of ecstasy.
“Watch me, Annie, and you can come.”
My eyes meet his through the phone, and his dedicated focus is all it takes.
I’m floating so close to the high. It’s as simple as his attention to shoot me into the air.
I come hard, panting and mewling while my spine bows.
But I never drop his eye contact.
Wick’s hand works furiously, and he groans as his hard cock shoots cum in jets onto his stomach.
We stare at each other, our chests heaving and the product of the activity chilling my skin.
“Absolutely gorgeous,” he murmurs. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now? Switch the camera so you can see yourself better.”
I double-tap my picture in the corner, and the screen fills with my image. My cheeks are flushed, my hair a mess, but my muscles and posture are languid.
I look thoroughly fucked even though he never touched me.
“Fifteen minutes,” he grumbles. “Then I’m coming for you. Surrender, Annie. We’re inevitable.”
“Sorry, Wickham,” I say and hang up the phone.