Charming as Puck(81)

The doll has no genitalia, but there’s a bow printed where a penis would go.

As though he’s hiding a present.

“You’d think dollmakers wouldn’t be so picky about giving customers what they want,” he says like he’s cross, though we both know he’s not. He probably already has a video waiting to go up on in Instagram page of the doll reading his fan mail.

“I’m disappointed,” I tease him. “I thought for sure you’d glue on some acorns.”

“Fuck. I’m losing my touch.”

I suddenly freeze. “Oh, no. Tell me there aren’t twenty-nine more of these waiting in crates at my house. Nick…tell me this is the only one.”

“Are you kidding? I ordered three hundred of these puppies.”

I wince so hard my eyes cross. “Nick—”

“And two hundred ninety-eight of them are being delivered to the children’s hospital,” he finishes with undisguised glee.

And there goes my heart getting all melty. “Oh my god,” I say suddenly again, stopping all melty soft happy feelings in my chest. “Tell me they don’t have bows. Tell me they don’t all have bows.”

“You know you’re adorable when your voice gets all high-pitched like that? Makes me want to kiss you until you’re getting squeaky because you’re turned on and desperate for my tongue between your legs.”

If I wasn’t already sitting down, I’d have to sit down now, because his words send a jolt of undiluted lust straight to my pussy. “When did you say you’re getting home?”

“Friday,” he grumbles.

I glance at the clock. “Are you alone?” I whisper.

“Lavoie. Get out.”

“Oh my god, Duncan heard you talking about going down on me?”

There’s another low rumble of laughter. “No, just teasing. I’m alone.”

“You are in so much trouble.”

“I don’t have any problem with anyone knowing I like to eat you though,” he says. “Their loss that they don’t get to. Hey, pull the string on the back of the doll.”

“The—oh! There’s a string. That’s—”

I pull it, and Nick’s voice comes out. “Hey, gorgeous. I miss you.”

I pull it again. “You are so fucking sexy.”

Once more. “I want to eat your pussy until you go blind.”

“I’m getting turned on by a doll,” I whisper.

“Just don’t try to have sex with it, because that would be weird, and if you knew half the things I’ve fantasized about doing to you, you wouldn’t think I had the right to call anything weird.”

“What have you fantasized about?” I ask, glancing at the door again, because I am still at work.

“Butter,” he says.

“Butter? Like me rubbing butter all over your cock before I eat it?”

“Fuck, Kami. I was kidding, but now…”

“Are you as hard as a stick of frozen butter?” My clit’s tingling and my nipples are aching, and my mother or any one of our vet techs could walk in here any minute.

“Harder,” Nick grits out.

“If I was there, I’d suck on you until you felt better,” I whisper.

“Jesus…”

“And then I’d strip for you and I’d lick you from your belly button to your chin, and I’d rub my breasts all over your body, and I’d touch my pussy while you watched.”

I’m squirming in my chair, and Nick’s breathing is going ragged. Phone sex is new. We haven’t done this before, but I think I like it.

“Kami,” he groans.

“Are you touching yourself?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Squeeze a little harder for me.”

“Christ.”

“Stroke yourself up and down and imagine it’s my mouth.”

“Oh, fuck, Kami, your mouth…”

He’s losing control. I can hear it in the rawness of his voice. I glance at the door again, try to picture Mrs. Murphy bursting in on us, because I cannot get caught playing with myself at work, but I want to touch my own nipples and squeeze my clit and thrust my fingers into my own pussy until I’m panting as hard as Nick is.

“Imagine I’m sucking you so hard you’re seeing stars.” My voice is breathy and low and desperate, because every ragged breath in my ear is making me ache deep inside my core. I rub at my breast, and my nipple pebbles harder, while I glance back at the door again. “You taste so good on my tongue,” I breathe.

“Oh, fuck, Kami, I’m gonna—fuck! BERGER! What the fuck!?”

There’s a commotion on the other end of the phone the same minute Muffy shoves open the break room door and careens in.

I jump, drop my phone, where there’s squawking of male voices and I can only imagine what’s going on in Seattle.

“Did it come?” Muffy shrieks. “Did it come? Did it—oh my god, are you sick? Your face is all red, and—oh.”

She ends on a squeak as I grab my phone and hang up on Nick. I text him quick—call you later from home—and lunge for the doll. “He finally did it. He got me a Nick doll,” I babble.