Call Me (22 page)

“Oh fuck. Chanel. Tell me it’s a bikini.”

Smirking, knowing this is going perfectly, I continue on. “Spying a sexy gold bikini, a perfect replica matching Princess Leia’s, I thought of you right away,” I pause, letting that sink in.

“You thought of me, beautiful?”

No, I thought of Ace, but I’ll keep that bit to myself.
Instead, I keep going.

“Yes I did. I thought of how I could buy it and wear it just for you. Give you me as your Leia for Christmas. Then let you tell me all the things you’d like to do to me for a change.”

“Fuck, you might be perfect if not for this no-seeing, no-touching conundrum we have going on. You make me so fucking hard.” His breathing increases, and, of course, so does mine. “Tell me about how you tried it on, Chanel. Describe how it didn’t fully cover those amazing tits.”

“That’s exactly what happened. How did you know?” I giggle teasingly.

“’Cause I imagine your tits to be perfect. Beautifully formed, with pink-tipped nipples that beg for my touch. Fuck it, let’s take turns telling this one tonight. Sound fun?”

“Yes,” I reply, sounding out of breath.

“Let’s pretend I’m your boyfriend and I knew you were trying it on, and I came into the change room. I got so turned on knowing what you were doing that I had to come in.”

“God, that would be so hot. Let’s do it.”

“Okay, ready, lovely? I think we’re both going to come so hard tonight.”

“God, me too. Please, Jake. Let’s continue,” I say, needing to see how this all plays out. Once again, the idea of this very thing happening with Ace fuels my desire.

Jake’s husky voice brings me back from my Ace-induced thoughts. “You’ve just finished trying it on and I’m so fucking turned on knowing what you’re doing behind the curtain. I charge into the small change space. Tell me what happens next.”

“I gasp. Then I say ‘Jake, you can’t be in here.’ I try to scold, when really I want nothing more than for you to see me like this, my tits spilling out of the bikini’s front, the small gold panties barely covering my aching pussy.”

“Shit, that’s perfect. I step in closer to you and tell you how fucking beautiful you are. I reach for the tie at your neck and pull.”

“Yes, it falls, releasing my huge tits, my nipples instantly hardening with the cool air’s kiss.”

“I take them between my finger and thumb, rolling each tip and pulling, convincing them to get even harder for me.”

“I moan, and beg for you to suck on them, aching to feel your tender bites and the swirl of your tongue as you drop your mouth to each one…”

“Hell, yeah, I love when you beg. Sucking on your nipples, I drop my hand down the front of your gold panties and rub your clit. Feeling how wet you are makes me growl.”

“You push me back against the mirror, taking my mouth hard with your own. Then, next thing I know, you’ve turned me, my hands now bracing myself against the mirrored wall.”

“Shit. I look you up and down all ready for me, sexy as fuck. I drop my jeans, grabbing my hard-as-stone cock needing to slip it inside you. Wanting nothing more than to feel your tight cunt hugging my cock while I thrust so fucking deep inside of you. Our eyes never break contact in the mirror.”

Jesus, I’m soaked.
This scenario is killing me. I’m lying on the chaise and it’s taking everything in me not to slip my hand down the front of my jeans and get myself off. Despite being turned on by this man more times than I care to admit, I’ve only ever touched myself that one time. But right now, I’m wondering what the hell I found so wrong about giving into this type pleasure?

“You feel so goddamned good, Chanel. Seeing my cock slipping in and out, the sheen of your juices coating my cock, is going to make me come hard.”

“Yes, keep fucking me, Jake. I move my hand to my tits, pulling each nipple while you watch in the mirror. God, I’m so close. I can feel my pussy quivering, it’s intense, my legs are shaking, the drag and pull of your cock feels so good. Oh fuck, it’s all blurring, I see flashes of lightsabers. Oh, oh, oh, fuuck, the stars…I see the staaaarrs!”

“Oh fuck. I’m coming…I’m gonna fucking come.”

“Have a Merry Christmas, Jake,” I whisper over his moans.

“God, you too, Chanel. Thank you.”

Ace

“G
reat session, Doctor
Ryan.”

Melody Richards pats her pink mitten-covered hand against my chest while batting her blue eyes my way, thanking me as she walks through the library’s exit door that I’m holding open. She’s thanked me now at least ten times. I get it, but of course I simply tell her that she’s welcome and that it was indeed a productive three hours.

Three hours of absolute torture for me, however. Tonight’s study session went very well, and all of my students showed up, including Ellie—the torture factor. Ever since the movie, I’ve wanted to talk to her, to discuss whatever this is between us, but to my dismay, I haven’t had a real chance to get her alone. Other than the couple of short office meetings since she began to really delve into her thesis (every time she stops by, it seems I’m booked, only having a couple of minutes to talk), we’ve emailed a bunch of times, but it’s not like I can ask her how she feels about me over campus servers, now can I?

Now it’s the last time I’ll see her for three weeks and I hate it. I hate not knowing where things stand. Sure, we flirt, there are rare touches and glances, but I need verbal confirmation. And I want to stamp her body with my body, claiming her. I want her to be mine.

Fuck, I’m completely screwed.
I tried to pretend that the only reason I set this up is because I’m a good professor and wanted to make sure everyone was on target with his or her thesis timeline. I’d be lying, though. I also set it up so I could make sure I saw her once more before the holiday break to make sure
she
was on track with her thesis, seeing as I know it’s a difficult one.
Or so I try to tell myself, anyway.

“I hope you all feel good heading into the break, but remember, the goal to keep up your pace is to work on plotting your first argument, and try to get ten pages or so done from that,” I share, as I hold the door for the rest of the students.

The December air is cold. A few flurries flutter around us as we stand outside in the brisk night air, the breath of our words turning that familiar hue of greyish-white that accompanies winter, as we all give our final goodbyes and good wishes for the holiday. Most of the group is heading home for the almost three-week break. I myself will be staying in Toronto for most of the break this year. With the TIFF submission deadline around the corner, my goal is to be done sooner than later. Submissions timelines run from February to the beginning of July, but I want mine in with lots of time to spare. I have too much to work on if I want to submit it by mid-April. My plan, however, is to make the almost two-hour drive home to Kingston for a few days over Christmas, then come back and lose myself in the film. My grandparents would disown me if I tried to skip coming home altogether.

“Shit, I think I left my cell phone back on the table…” Ellie’s distressed voice as she rifles through her purse breaks my train of thought. “You guys go ahead, I’m fine to walk from here. I’m just off campus, over there.” She points across the expansive campus to where I can barely make out a set of traffic lights, then turns and heads back up the stairs.

“We can wait, Els,” Dom calls out.

“Nah,” she stops. “Honestly, I’m fine. I was planning on going to The Froth House to do some work anyway, so I’ll actually be heading the opposite way. You guys go on, I’ll see you next year,” she laughs, while encouraging them to go. They all agree, waving goodbye.

The fuck I will.

The sound of the door opening draws my attention. Seeing Ellie walking down the library’s steps, I make my way over to the bottom of the stairs where I’ve been shifting from one foot to the other for the last five minutes to keep warm.

“Jesus, Ace. You scared me,” she says, finally looking up from her phone, her hand flying to her heart.

“You should be paying more attention to your surroundings, E,” I chide, not happy that it’s dark and she had no clue I was standing there until she practically collided with me. She would have no clue who or what could have been waiting for her.

“Oh please. It’s the safest campus in Canada. Besides, I knew you were there,” she lies.

“Bullshit. You need to pay attention, Ellie. I don’t care what you say. Eyes wide at night, always.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, Professor. Now tell me, what are you doing here, anyway?” She cocks her head before making a show of looking around, to see if anyone else hung back.

“You’re such a pest. You know that?”

“What? I was just making sure we were safe is all.”

I want to kiss the shit out of that sassy mouth of hers.

“No, seriously, Ace. What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you. There wasn’t a chance I was letting you walk home alone, and I felt like a coffee. Heard you were going.” I step in closer to her, my nose immediately pleased to be reunited with its favourite scent.
Her.

“And you assumed I wanted your company?”

“I know you do. As much as I want yours.” I run my gloved finger along my bottom lip.

“Ace.” She looks all around us again.

“
Ellie,
” I imitate her. “We need to talk, E. Seriously, I think we need to discuss us. This.” I gesture between us.

“Us?” she questions. “Whatever do you mean, Professor?”

“Yeah, E.
Us
. I mean, I think we both feel the same way.” I step closer, then take a quick look around us before leaning down to meet her ear. “Well, at least I hope you feel this too.”

Thankfully, exhaling, she agrees. “I feel it. So much. Sometimes I worry it’s unhealthy how much I feel it. I’m freezing. Let’s go talk,” she nods, giving me a heart-pounding grin.

Now to make her agree with my proposition.

Ellie

“I
’ll get right
to the point,” Ace says, placing both of our lattes on the table I’d found for us while Ace insisted he buy our drinks. Suddenly, I find my hands sweaty and my heart making its way up my throat.

Did we really both admit to feeling this pull between us? Or is the December cold freezing my brain cells?

“Ellie, are you listening to me?”

“What? Sorry?”

He smirks. “I said I’ll get right to the point.”

“Yes. Right. By all means.” I pick up the wonderfully hot mug, appreciating its warmth as it thaws my frozen hands.

“Look, I like you. For some reason, you affect me. I like being around you and I want more time with you. I’d like to get to know you, see where this could go. There. No more hot and cold,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Wow, you have such a way with words. Could that have been anymore robotic, Wall-E? For a film guy, that sounded pretty lacklustre.” I place a hand over my heart, having set the mug down for the full effect.

“Sorry. But I’ve wanted to say that for a while now. The thought of being interrupted made me rush it.” He holds my gaze, the sincerity I see making me feel bad for teasing him. “In my head, it was much more eloquent. Honest.” His nervous smile and that bloody dimple on his right cheek help to convince me.

God, this man could be my undoing.

“Take two?” I say, glancing around us. Thankfully, it’s just he and I sitting in the back right now.

He nods.

“And…
action
,” I call, leaning in closer to the table.

“Ellie. I like you. Aside from being the hottest woman I think I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, your intelligence is mesmerizing, and your brain is sexy as hell. The way you look when you’re passionate about something makes my body yearn to be closer to you, to be on the receiving end of that force—that look. You surprise me with your brilliance and make my cock hard with your quick wit, especially when you demand that I hear you out. And please note, I do hear you, but it seems I have a one-track mind where you’re involved. I’m sorry but I do. My brain can only focus on all the ways to make you mine. You are the trifecta: beauty, brains and wit, all in one hell of a package.”

I sit back, my mouth surely agape. I think I blink a few times—maybe even close my eyes for a minute—before opening them, checking to be sure he’s actually sitting across from me. No-one has ever said anything remotely close to that about me before. Lucky for me, each time I reopen my eyes he’s still right across from me, camel-coloured button-up shirt enhancing those already piercing green eyes, waiting for my response.
Would mounting him in The Froth House send the right message?

“Better?” he says a bit cockily, knowing it was pretty damned epic.

“Was all right,” I shrug, despite a huge grin escaping.

“I did make some great points, did I not?”

“Indeed.” I pause, shake my head. “Okay, first things first, I need to get this off my chest before we talk about ‘us’. I need to pre-book my advisor meetings with you moving forward. I’ve been avoiding you and me in confined spaces. And this typing up everything I have to ask you in an email is killing me.” I rub my wrists, feigning carpal tunnel syndrome. “We will have to make sure we stay focused,” I add for clarity.

“
We,
eh? Who’s to say I wasn’t always focused on the tasks at hand? It’s all becoming clear now, though. I was wondering why our communication had turned to strictly emails. You
do
like me, Ms. Hughes.” He gives me a devious grin.

“Ace.” I give him a dirty look, which only makes his smile bigger.

“What? It’s perfect. I’d like to make steady appointments with you too,” he says, and I roll my eyes.

“Not like that. Wellll, not yet, anyway…” I add, gaining a full-on smile.

“Soon, I hope. I’ve thought about you and me in my office. A lot,” he tells me in a low, gravelly tone, one which sends tingles down my spine.

“Whatever,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Now tell me the rest of your thoughts,” he says, leaning in even closer.