Page 30 of Resisting His Charm
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t care. I don’t need to know anything about you, Sammie. I’m not planning on seeing you again. It was fun and all, but we really don’t need to continue this.” I flop down onto my couch.
“Where are you right now?”
“Home.”
“Alone?”
“Nope. I found some hot, willing cowboy to ride. I’m all about saving the horses around here, you know. He’s waiting for me in my bed, so I really should go.”
A growl—yes, a full-on growl—comes through my phone. “Poppy, I know you’re fucking with me. On the off chance you’re not, you should warn that cowboy he might want to get on his horse and ride as fast as he can. Because when I catch up, it’s not going to end well for him.”
“Okay, whatever that was, we’re not doing that,” I grumble, and for some stupid reason, I have a smile spread wide across my face. Why the hell do I like that level of possessiveness? I’ve never liked it before.
“I don’t share, Poppy.”
“I’m not your property, Sammie.”
“No, you’re my… It doesn’t matter. I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. What time do you finish work on Friday?” he asks, changing the subject.
“Why?”
“Because I’m bringing you back to Vegas for the weekend. I need to let the pilot know what time we can leave.”
“Don’t you think you should ask me if I want to go to Vegas with you? I could have other plans,” I remind him. I do have other plans this weekend, and there is no way I’m going to miss them.
“You got other plans?”
“I do actually. My best friend is getting married, remember? And I’m not missing that for anything. Not even your orgasms,” I tell him.
“I forgot about that. We’ll stay at your place this weekend, and next weekend, I’ll bring you back to Vegas.”
“That sounds like a lot of future planning there, Sammie. You need to slow down, and you’re not invited to the wedding.”
“Actually I was, by the bride herself,” he says. “Poppy, go to your bedroom, lie on your bed, and take off your panties.”
I blink. Did he really just say that? I feel like I’m going to get whiplash from the way he changes the subject so easily.
“I’m not doing that,” I say as I walk into my bedroom, wondering why the hell I’m doing this. My brain is telling me to hang up, but my body is telling me to let him keep talking.
“You’re already doing it. Remove your panties, Poppy.”
“You don’t know what I’m doing,” I tell him as I remove my panties and lie on my bed.
“You want this,” he says so matter-of-factly. I hate that he’s right. I do want this.
“Shut up and keep talking,” I groan as I slide under my covers.
Sammie chuckles. “I want you to trail your fingers up the inside of your thigh. Slowly. You don’t want to reach the finish line too fast.”
Switching the call to speaker, I set my phone on the bed and do just that. My legs open and the fingers of my right hand slide up my inner thigh. My nails lightly scratching at my skin.
“Good girl,” Sammie grunts. “Now, slide them through your pussy. Tell me what it feels like, Poppy. Are you wet?”
“Mmm,” I moan. My fingers circle my clit, sending pleasure through my entire body.
“Tell me, Poppy. Are you wet for me?” he repeats.
