Now it was my turn to ask a question and I thought about it hard. What did I really want to know about the first man who’d ever really made my body sing? “Where did you get the enchanted restraints?”

“A witch who’s a favorite customer,” he said. “Did you like them?”

“Yes.” My breathing had started to speed up as soon as I asked the question. I rubbed at one of my nipples absently with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone. Even when he wasn’t here, he made me feel needy. “Have you ever been tied up?”

“Yeah.” There was a slight rasp to his voice, letting me know he was feeling the increased tension too. “Not my favorite thing, but if you want to go there, I’m willing. Do you?”

“Is that your question?”

“Sure,” he said easily.

I thought about it then answered, “No—not now at any rate.” The idea of having Jack at my mercy was appealing, but I’d begun to discover that I preferred to be the submissive in the bedroom.

“Your turn again,” he reminded me after a few moments of silence.

“Do you—have any siblings?” I was scrambling for questions, trying to get things back on a semi-safe level.

“I told you last night I have three sisters,” he said. “Also two brothers. I’m the third oldest. Lots of cousins.”

“I miss that,” I said. “One of the worst parts about being a vampire is you live forever, but your family doesn’t. You’re lucky to be a werewolf.”

“Yeah, I am,” he said gently. “It has its ups and downs, but it’s nice to have my family around.”

“It’s your turn to ask a question.” Again, I wanted to change the subject.

Jack seemed to understand. “So what name were you born with? Ari suits you beautifully. Was it your original name?”

“Yes. But my parents’ surname was Kanavos. Stephanopoulos was my grandmother’s maiden name. Until last week, I went by Ariana Contis—another family name. How about you? Were you born Jackson Marceski?”

“Marceski, sort of. We used March back when Polish names really stood out in America then changed it back in the 1950s. Jackson was one of my names. We tend to give our children two or three middle names so we can switch around but keep our family name. I was born Zachary Alexander Jackson March—after three men my father served with in the war.

“Okay, my turn,” he said. “Are you cold?”

“What? No.” I frowned at the phone, confused by his sudden shift.

“Then take off your sweat jacket,” he murmured. “And tell me if those pretty rose-colored nipples of yours are poking out through your tank top.”

“Oh.” Well, if they hadn’t been before they sure were now that he mentioned it. Obediently though I peeled off my jacket. “Yes.”

“Wish I was there to see them,” he muttered.

“Are you hard?” I couldn’t believe the words popped out my mouth. Where had this new, bold Ari come from?

“Hell yeah.” He gave a short sharp laugh. “Have been since I thought about calling you. Are you wet?”

“I think so.” I was sure of it but too embarrassed to admit I could feel the dampness on my thighs.

“Then take off your sweatpants and find out for sure,” he said, finishing with an irresistible, “please?”

“Okay.” I stood and used one hand to push my sweats down around my ankles, stepping out of them and the bunny slippers. I moved over to my bed, not wanting to sit down on the chair in my wet cotton panties.

“So?” He waited until I was done moving around. “How wet are you?”

I slipped my fingers inside my undies and shuddered at the instant response generated by my own soft touch. “Dripping.”

“Are you playing with yourself?”

Caught! Automatically I stopped swirling my fingers between my labia.

“You are, aren’t you, gorgeous? Come on, admit it.”

“I was,” I confessed.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered. “I want to hear you make yourself come.”

Oh god! Just the words had more cream forming in my slit. I pushed my fingers deeper, trying to assuage the emptiness that just his voice had aroused.

“Would it help if I told you I’ve unzipped my jeans and have my dick in my hand?” he asked, a harsh rasp in his breathing. “I want you so badly I can hardly see straight.”

“I want you too, Jack.” I shoved two fingers into my hot, wet pussy and began to rub my clit with my thumb. There was a vibrator in my nightstand but that was too far away. I needed to come now.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Ari,” Jack rumbled. “Your pretty eyes all glazed with passion, your pink lips all swollen from my kisses. I want to suck on those perky nipples until you scream my name, and I want to bury my cock in that sweet, tight pussy of yours until both of us explode.”

“Jack!” His name was all I could manage as I came, cream coating my entire hand and my walls clamping down hard on my fingers.

“Oh Ari,” his groan let me know he was coming too. I envisioned him sitting there on his couch, jeans open and his T-shirt all spattered with cum. The picture sent aftershocks skittering through me until I almost dropped the phone.

“Wow,” he muttered. “I haven’t gone off like that in a long time. You give good phone, sweetheart. Can’t wait to do that again in person.”

“Me either,” I said with a sigh. “Are we still on for Sunday night?”

“You’d better believe it,” he growled. “I’m nowhere near through with you, Ari. I’ll be there at sunset. Be ready.”

“I will.” My heart danced a little at the sultry promise in his voice. “Good night, Jack.”

“Good night, Ari. Sleep well.”

After I hung up, I went and cleaned up then put my sweats back on and curled up in my chair. Only one question danced through my mind.

How had Jack known that phone sex was one of my fantasies?

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