IRL: In Real Life (After Oscar, #1)(18)

I grinned to myself and cleared my throat. “Now that we’re here, let’s begin the negotiations, shall we?”





7





Conor





Walking out of that steel and glass tower was what I imagined walking out of a short stint in prison must feel like. I could finally take a deep breath and remind myself who I really was.

Listening to James and the other attorneys drone on and on had exhausted me more than I’d let on. Maybe it was the stress of being out of my comfort zone or the worry that the deal would somehow not close in time to help my mother much, but now that I was out in the crisp winter air, I felt invigorated.

I was also, blessedly, alone again. James had raced off to meet his live-in boyfriend, Richard, for an after-work thing at the office, and I knew from long hours talking to James that Richard wasn’t one to excuse tardiness easily. It was just as well. I had a sexy stranger on the other end of my phone who I was itching to talk to about my day.

Conor: I’m free!





It only took a few moments before a reply popped up.

Sexy Stranger: Don’t sell yourself short, kid. You’ve got to be worth at least twenty bucks.





I wondered if my ridiculous grin stood out among the serious business people crowding the sidewalks beside me.

Conor: Tell me something funny. I could use a laugh.





Sexy Stranger: Did your presentation go that badly then?





Conor: Not really. Just all serious and boring. Oh and awkward as hell at one point for which I have you to blame. Your text earlier made me hard. I had to take great pains to hide it.





Sexy Stranger: Were you thinking of me and my plans for you tonight? Is that why you were hard?





I felt my cock stirring again and picked up my pace, hoping to keep myself in check at least long enough to get back to the hotel.

Conor: Yes.





Sexy Stranger: Good. That’s what I like to hear.





Warmth spread through my chest at the idea of having pleased him.

Conor: I was glad to be done with everything so I could finally text.





Sexy Stranger: You back in your hotel room?





I looked around at the bustling crowds. I’d elected to skip the taxi in favor of stretching my legs.

Conor: No. Walking there now though. Keep me company?





Sexy Stranger: Why do I feel like I should be regurgitating a naughty limerick right now like a trained jester of some kind?





I snorted softly while trying to picture my mystery man in colorful striped tights and a cap with bells on it.

Conor: I can see you in the get-up.





Sexy Stranger: And how, pray tell, do I look?





Conor: I’d do ya.





Sexy Stranger: You’re an odd one. Have a clown kink I’m unaware of?





Conor: Nah, but apparently I have a submissive kink of some kind.





There was a delay, and I began to feel my stomach twist with nerves. Maybe I’d gone too far. Or misread the situation. When I saw the three dots, I sucked in a breath and held it.

Sexy Stranger: And how do you feel about that?





Conor: You sound like a psychologist.





Sexy Stranger: Answer the question.





Conor: Okay, now you sound like an attorney.





Sexy Stranger: NotSam, I need to know how you’re feeling about what we did.





His concern made my chest warm under my uncomfortable business suit.

Conor: Excited. Turned on. Hopeful for more. There, are you happy?





Sexy Stranger: Indeed.





Conor: And you? What’s your kink besides bossing people around?





I’d meant it to sound flirty but wondered if it had come out sarcastic and biting instead. I pursed my lips and tried not to run into anyone while I stared at my phone, waiting for an answer.

Sexy Stranger: Pleasing my partner in bed. Taking care of them after.





I froze midstep. The person behind me cursed angrily before brushing past me, his shoulder knocking mine. I reread the text several times, my pants growing tight. If that was his kink, sign me up.

I took a shaky breath and resumed my walk.

Conor: Cuddling?





Sexy Stranger: Not normally, no.





My stomach dropped. Not normally meant sometimes yes, but that it was the exception rather than the rule. I frowned, something uncomfortable twisting my insides. It felt almost like… jealousy. I wondered what it took to be that exception.

What I would have to do for it to be me.

The thought that it might never be me struck me harder than I expected. Which was ridiculous since we were anonymous sext buddies only. Not like we’d ever meet in person and actually be in a position to cuddle. And why did I even care about some stranger’s opinions on sex and relationships? I didn’t.