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Lucy places the clean dish back in the cabinet. Tonya had just finished scrubbing the remnants of dinner from the pots and plates, despite the fact that there was a perfectly good, expensive even, dishwasher not two feet from her. Not to mention, Lucy was perfectly capable of cleaning them herself.
But if there was anything Lucy had learned about her husband’s longtime housekeeper, Tonya was not a woman you argued with.
The two women had just enjoyed a delicious meal prepared by the elder Russian woman, made with love, as Tonya always said. Lucy had insisted she stay to enjoy the meal with her, having found Tim’s absence to be… well, rather painful. He’d only been gone for two days, but it might as well have been a month.
“Alright, Ms. Lucy, I think that is everything. Are you sure there is nothing else I can do for you? Maybe some cookies for a late night snack?”
Lucy grins. “No, thank you, Tonya. I think I’m all good. You should head out. I know how much you love your beauty sleep.”
“You know me so well, Ms. Lucy.” Tonya pats Lucy’s cheek, her accent a soft, comforting burr. “Have a good night. And don’t be so sad. Your man will be home soon enough.”
Lucy huffs in amusement and walks Tonya to the door. The woman does not have a sweater or jacket for Lucy to help put on, as her cozy apartment is only a few floors down, courtesy of Tim’s generosity and his need to care for his own.
Tonya waves over her shoulder as she waddles down the hall toward the elevator.
Stepping back into the apartment, silence meets her. Lucy hates it. Didn’t think she would ever feel this way about being alone. After everything that had happened, after falling head over tea kettle for the most infuriatingly sexy man she had ever met, well, Lucy was smitten, and he with her. And now, it was as if she were missing a limb.
Locking the deadbolts of the door, Lucy sets the alarm and makes her way up the stairs. The hour isn’t late by any means, but she finds she wants nothing more than to take a bath and curl up in bed, chasing the scent of her husband on his pillow.
Lucy cranks the faucet of the giant clawfoot tub, adjusting until she achieves the right temperature. She then reaches under a cabinet for her stash of bath bombs and throws in a lavender one. As she lets the tub fill up, Lucy brushes her teeth and lays out her pajamas. She brushes her hair, then twirls it into a knot on top of her head. After retrieving her e-reader from her nightstand, she sinks into the bath for a good, warm soak and the latest James Patterson.
When Tim had learned of the variety of genres Lucy loved to read, he’d laughed and laughed.
Never would have thought an efficient and very deadly assassin would read cozy mysteries.
You’d be surprised by all the things I’m capable of.
Lucy smirks, recalling that very conversation. The way his blue eyes had darkened, his mind filling, no doubt, with wild speculation.
She remembered thinking Good, let him speculate. A girl’s gotta keep some secrets.
The warmth and smell of the bath soothes Lucy quickly and easily, and she settles into her book with a small little smile. After an hour, she reluctantly pulls herself from the bath to towel off, sufficiently pruned. The cool air of the bedroom prickles her skin as she grabs her pajamas to dress. Glancing at the alarm clock on Tim’s side of the bed, she muses that it would be around midnight in New York now.
As though her thoughts had summoned him, Lucy’s phone rings from where she had set it on her nightstand. Lucy flies across the space separating her from the device, grinning widely at the screen, as it’s currently displaying a funny candid shot of Tim sticking his tongue out at her. Lucy swipes her thumb across the screen to answer and puts the receiver to her ear.
“Oh, hello. Is this the pizza boy I ordered?” She asks in her best sultry tone.
There’s a long beat of stunned silence on the other end of the line. Lucy puts her palm to her mouth to keep her giggling from being heard.
“Um, yeah,” came the shocked, shaky baritone of her husband, voice becoming steadier as he continued. “You ordered the vegetable pizza, right? And a lap dance?”
“I ordered the whole package, sir,” Lucy replies with mock disappointment. “Lap dance, strip tease, anal…”
Tim laughs and Lucy can’t help but smile too. She imagines his smile, wide and bright and so damn beautiful.
“How do you escalate from strip tease to anal?” He gasps through his laughter.
Lucy shrugs, though she knows he can’t see her. “I dunno, it’s what happens in porn, right?”
“You got me there, babe. You got me there.”
It’s Lucy’s turn to grin widely. “I wasn’t sure you’d call me tonight.”
Another beat of silence, this one shorter. “Luce, you know I have to hear your voice before I can sleep.”
That shouldn’t make Lucy’s heart feel as full as it does. There’s a lot about this man that has and still surprises her.
“I miss you,” he continues, deep voice soft and damn near hypnotic.
“I miss you too,” Lucy breathes. She climbs on the bed and curls up under the covers, inching more and more toward his side. His scent is fading from his pillow and their sheets, but she can just make it out.
“How was your day?” Tim asks, and they fall into light conversation about her day, his day, and the long agonizing days still to go before they see each other again.
“I have a very important question to ask you,” Tim suddenly says after they’re finished talking about event ideas they’d been considering for Pandora’s Box, the night club Tim owns.
“Hmm?” Lucy hums, fiddling with the hem of her pajama top.
“What’re you wearing?”
Lucy’s shocked for a beat. “You can’t be serious.”
“When am I ever anything but?”
Good point. A serious man, her lovely, ruthless husband.
“I’m wearing the sexiest teddy I own from Agent Provocateur,” Lucy fibs.
If it was anyone other than her husband on the other end of the phone, they might have believed her. But no one knew her like Tim.
“So, pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, got it. One of my t-shirts?”
Lucy glances down at herself, at her favorite, soft as silk, pajama pants and his worn, but comfortable Army shirt.
“Yes, of course,” Lucy huffs, mock indignant. “What are you wearing, hmm?”
A low chuckle causes shivers to trickle down her neck, causing the little hairs there to stand on end. He was sin. Pure sin.
“I’m not wearing anything.”
She can’t help herself. Lucy’s eyes slide shut, picturing exactly that: Tim, laying on his back in some ritzy, yet uncomfortable bed, in an equally ritzy and uncomfortable hotel, smooth tan skin half hidden from view beneath the high thread count sheets, all lean muscle and big hands and…
Fuck.
Lucy squirms.
“Are we really going to do this?” She asks, breathless, her heart already kicking up in anticipation.
“Up to you, sweetheart. I really fucking miss you. And I’ve never done phone sex before. Could be fun.”
He sounds so damn casual about it all. Like he’s talking about the weather or the latest Rams’ score.
“You’ve never?” Lucy asks.
“Never.” There’s a pause, some rustling like he sat up, alert. “Why, have you?”
She smiles. Normally, she would happily smack the shit out of him for the tinge of jealousy in his words. But there were times, like now, when she rather liked the implications. The hints of possessiveness. Cursed male posturing.
“No, Tim, I haven’t. Don’t get your panties in a wad.”
“You’re right. I want your panties in a wad.”
“That’d be kind of difficult, because I’m not wearing any.”
Tim groans. There’s more rustling, as if he is settling back in. “Tell me more about that.”
“Well… I wanted a bath, to relax a little. Just got out when you called, actually. Didn’t feel panties were necessary for bed.”
“Panties are never necessary where you’re concerned.”
Lucy bites her lip to stem a giggle. “So, yeah, just my PJs. Laying out… all alone… in this giant bed…”
An intake of breath. Lucy thinks she could really get into this phone sex thing.
“Take them off,” Tim all but growls, sending a spike of heat to her core.
Lucy sets her phone down, lifts her hips, and shimmies out of her bottoms. She lets them drop off the side of the bed. Tim’s Army shirt follows quickly after. Her hand reaches out for her nightstand, grasping around for her wireless earbuds, and grins triumphantly when she finds them.
“All gone,” Lucy coos, settling the buds into her ears and setting her phone off to the side. She puts both in, because Tim’s voice is a fucking ASMR experience.
“God, I wanna be there so badly,” Tim groans again. Lucy can’t help but chuckle.
“That would defeat the point of phone sex though.”
“I know, but in-person sex tops any other kind of sex.”
Lucy laughs again, settling back against their pillows. Idly, she begins grazing her fingers across her collarbones, and down between the valley of her breasts. Her hands are so much smaller than Tim’s, but when she closes her eyes, she can almost imagine they’re his. Regardless, her flesh responds to the touch, pimpling up into goosebumps.
“Mmm…” Lucy hums. “I miss you. I miss your smile. I miss your touch. But most of all, I miss your cock.”
Tim laughs. “Is that all I am to you? A cock?”
“Mhm,” Lucy agrees. “A really nice, beautiful cock. The perfect size to make me feel so full.”
She skates her fingers down, close to the dark curls of her mound, but skirts back upward.
“You’d have me tied to our bed, wouldn’t you? Using me whenever you want.”
Fuck, what an image. Not to mention how much of a thrill she still gets when she hears our bed.
“Now that’s an idea,” Lucy says. “What would people think… knowing that the tough, hardass Tim Bradford was being used as a fuck toy by his wife.”
Tim lets out a strangled breath, the very same one he makes whenever she, or he, takes his cock in hand.
“Honestly, I wouldn’t give a fuck,” he replies. “They’d be jealous. Jealous they couldn’t have the most beautiful woman in the world because she’s all mine.”
Lucy rolls her eyes, but her face heats. She hates and loves his possessiveness. Hates that he calls her his, but loves when he says he’s hers. Loves the way his possessiveness makes her feel wanted, even cherished. She hasn’t had anyone in her life in a long time who genuinely cared for her, fought for her, loved her unconditionally. Hell, not even when she was a kid and living with her parents. They were so cold and distant, to the point Lucy hadn’t realized how touch starved she had been until she met Tim.
“Yours, huh?” She can’t help but poke.
A feral rumble hits both ears, a clash of sound that makes her pussy clench and dampen more. “Yes, baby. When you accepted my ring on your finger, you became mine. My wife. My lover. My best friend. Mine to cherish. Mine to buy nice things for. Mine to make laugh. Mine to protect.”
Lucy palms her breasts, the heel of her hand rubbing against her nipple. The sensitive flesh pebbles, hard and aching for Tim’s mouth. She slowly drags her other hand back down her body to strum her fingers across her slick folds. Her top teeth sink into her bottom lip to quiet her gasp. He doesn’t need to know what his words do to her, doesn’t need any more excuses to be arrogant.
“You know I can take care of myself,” Lucy replies, a hint of a bite in her tone.
“I know you can, Luce. Doesn’t mean I can’t also protect you.”
God, she misses him.
“I love you,” Tim continues softly. “I miss you. I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you so hard, so good, everytime you take a step you’ll feel me and remember. Know. Know that you belong to me.”
Fingertips slick with her wetness, Lucy begins to rub a slow circular pattern around her swollen clit. The light pressure she applies causes a small moan. She tempers the sensation by pinching a nipple between her thumb and forefinger, the sweet pain causing her back to arch slightly.
“I hate your caveman ownership bullshit,” Lucy hisses through clenched teeth.
Tim chuckles low. “No you don’t, baby. You love it. It gets you so hot… so fucking wet, it’s nothing for me to slide my cock right in.”
Lucy’s middle finger teases at her opening, pushing the tip just inside. This is not enough. Not nearly enough.
“You know it’s just pillow talk,” Tim says. “If there’s anyone here that should claim ownership, it’s you. You own my ass, Lucy Chen. My body, my heart, my soul. I’m so fucking far gone for you, I can’t imagine a life without you in it. I don’t want to imagine that life. Or live in it.”
Lucy’s chest constricts, and her eyes prickle with the probability of tears. Leave it to her husband to turn something hot into something sappy. Her husband, who made a living out of the legal and illicit. Her husband, who could work over a snitch one minute, blood coating his knuckles and shirt, and in the next, kiss her tenderly and with so much love.
They were one fucked up match made in heaven… or hell. They’d both killed. He’d built an empire off intimidation and brutality. She’d created a reputation for herself as a flawless assassin. Tragedy dripped from their pasts like thick, sticky blood, both having seen so much darkness, so much pain. But then they met, and what they made together was the only good thing in their lives, something normal, which was a thing neither of them believed they could ever have. And just like that, the darkness they dwelled in didn’t seem as dark, as fathomless, or as lonely.
“Jesus, Tim, this was supposed to be dirty phone sex, not a love declaration,” Lucy gripes, with a giant smile on her face.
Tim laughs, and as always, the sound makes her chest hurt in the most delicious way possible. “You’re right… I apologize.” He pauses, and when he speaks again, he’s gone from romantic to depraved. “How wet are you right now?”
Lucy’s fingers, which had been idly teasing along her sex, dipped into her entrance again. She lifts her hand then, taking in the way her fingers glisten in the low light of the room, and the way the little strands of stickiness stretch as she parts her fingers. “Really wet,” she breathes.
There’s another sexy intake of breath on the other end. “Fuck… you get so wet for me, Lucy. It’s obscene.”
Lucy’s eyelids flutter shut, lashes fanned out across the apples of her cheeks. Her lips are only just parted. “Mm,” she lets out a low sound. “Only for you. Only you can get me this wet.”
“Damn right,” Tim grits through clenched teeth. Lucy can barely hear the slow, soft sound of him fisting his cock, dragging his palm up and down his length. God, she wanted that cock in her mouth. “Only I can have you soaking the sheets. Only my fingers find that spot inside you that, with just the right amount of pressure, can make you squirt, drenching my hand. It’s fucking filthy, wife, but it’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
The man makes it happen one time and he thinks he’s a god.
Okay, he’s made it happen several times since, and yes, he might be a god, but, Jesus…
Lucy slides two fingers into her channel, and her hips begin to squirm immediately at the lovely pressure. She moans, unable and unwilling to keep herself quiet anymore. Another short gasp punches from her chest when she swipes her thumb across her now engorged clit.
“How many fingers, Lucy?” Tim asks.
“Two,” Lucy manages to reply.
“I’d tell you to make it three, but it wouldn’t be enough, would it?”
Lucy’s head thrashes side to side as she moves her fingers in and out of her pussy a little faster.
“ No,” Lucy whines, unable to help the desperation.
“No, it’s not,” Tim agrees. “You need more than what your fingers can give you. I bet your whole damn hand wouldn’t be enough, would it, my love?”
Her hips buck, sliding her ring finger in, the stretch achingly good but not enough. Not nearly enough.
“You’re not satisfied until you’re full to bursting. My cock, that eyesore of a purple vibrator–”
“Hey!” Lucy yelps.
“--when I get home, you’re gonna take my whole hand.”
“Oh fuck, Tim,” Lucy groans, a fresh wave of lust shooting through her, heating her body hotter, at the mere thought.
“Ohhh, that get you excited, baby?”
She may not be able to see him, but she sure as hell can hear the shit eating grin on his face.
“Fucking pervert,” Lucy grunts, her wrist muscles siezing for a moment as she tries to work her fingers even faster, the angle not helping matters.
“You love it,” Tim coos, and Lucy can hear wet clicking, as though Tim is using his precome or spit to jack himself.
“God help me, but I do. Bastard.”
Tim laughs that low, husky laugh that, in another couple of minutes, could honestly trigger her building orgasm.
“Honey, stop fingering yourself. You’re gonna get a cramp. You can’t fuck that sweet pussy the way you want to like that. Get out your eyesore, baby. If I can’t be there, it’ll be the next best thing to my cock.”
Lucy smirks, sliding her fingers from her opening with a wet sound. “Bold of you to assume it’s the next best thing,” she says, before rolling over on her side to root around in the drawer of her nightstand, finding the purple eyesore Tim is referring to.
“ Brat,” Tim barks, clearly insulted.
Lucy laughs, delighted.
Vibrator acquired, Lucy resumes a comfortable position, scooting her ass down the bed a little more, and spreads her thighs.
She might love to mercilessly tease Tim about the prowess of her purple vibrator, and indeed, it’d gotten her through all those years alone. But it was nothing compared to the real thing. Real skin to skin connection. That spark she felt every time they touched, no matter how minute of a gesture. Lucy loved the feel of his soft, silky cock in her hand, how hard it could get for her, and she loved the slide and drag of it inside of her, every vein, bump, and divot.
“Turn it on,” Tim’s low voice says, interrupting her thoughts. “Lowest setting. Then press the tip to your clit.”
Lucy follows his instructions, turning the dial to the slowest speed. She lets out a satisfied little hum when she presses the silicone to her sensitive flesh.
“That feel good?”
“Yes.”
“Small, slow circles, sweetheart.”
Damn mind reader. He knew she was about to dive right in and move quickly. She’s an impatient person, and he loves to torture her as a result.
“How long’s it been since you’ve had to do this solo, Ms. Chen?”
God, his voice. Like the smoothest, sweetest chocolate. Deep and husky and just the right amount of roughness.
“It’s been a while,” Lucy replies, irritated that he would ask her such a question in the middle of this.
“ How long? ”
Lucy’s teeth grind, clenching so hard she wouldn’t be surprised if she cracked a tooth.
“You know how long, asshat.”
Tim chuckles. “Hm… lemme guess… that first night we started fucking. It was before that, wasn’t it?”
The hum of the vibrator is the only sound for a beat. “Y-Yes,” she replies. “The last time was… probably about a week before that.”
“Oh really. Ooh, I like this… what did you think about, Lucy?”
Like she needs to tell him what she thought about when she wanked. Like he needs another injection to his ego.
“You.”
It was Tim’s turn to let out a little sigh that ended in a groan. There was nothing quite sweeter than hearing a man moan his pleasure. His stoicism did not follow him into the bedroom, which had been a surprise, and not, to Lucy.
“You fucked yourself… thinking about me… a handful of floors away?”
When she had first started working for Tim, he had set her up with a gorgeous apartment in his building, the Wilshire Royale. It was the first place in a long time that actually felt like a home to her. And yes, after working around the man for hours and hours a day, it was difficult not to think about him when she brought herself to completion.
“I did,” Lucy admits. “It was almost a daily occurrence, Bradford. You happy?”
Tim laughs again, her frustration his ambrosia in that moment. “Oh, I am very happy. Go a little faster, baby.”
He does not have to tell Lucy twice. She quickens that speed of her circles, still small and tight, as he had told her.
“You wanna know a secret?” Tim asks.
“Hm?”
“While you were rubbing that beautiful, tight pussy… I nearly fucking chafed my cock because of how many times I jerked off thinking about you.”
Lucy’s lips curl slowly into a pleased smile.
“Now,” Tim continues. “Now, we don’t need to anymore.”
They had both been such lonely people. Adrift in a sea of turmoil, darkness, and shame. Life had fucked them over so many times, it was all they had been able to do to keep their heads above water. Then, they met… and it was a damn revelation.
“Tim…”
“Yes, baby?”
“I like this. I really do. But I really want to come now. The faster we come, the faster we can go to sleep, and the faster you’ll be home.”
Tim is quiet for a moment. She knows he’s debating arguing with her, but he won’t. He sees the merit of her words.
“Yes ma’am.” There’s shuffling on the other end, Tim probably settling down further. “Slide the tip of the purple eyesore down that sweet pussy. Push it in.”
Lucy dips the vibrator down to her entrance, sensitive and soaking wet. The tip slips in easily, as does the rest of it, inch by inch. Once it’s fully seated inside, stretching her deliciously well, but not as deliciously as Tim’s cock would, Lucy sighs contentedly.
“Feels good.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm… not as good as you,” Lucy assures him, not to stroke his ego this time, but because it was the truth.
“Can’t say my hand is as good as being inside you, but it’ll do.”
Lucy bends her knees, resting her heels on the bed, legs spread as wide as possible. The angle is and has always been a little difficult, but she always managed. She can manage now.
“I want to come with you,” Lucy says, moving the vibrator in shallow strokes.
“Babe, m’gonna be honest with you, this isn’t gonna take me long…”
Lucy laughs. She’s always finds it so fucking hot that he burns for her so intensely that it doesn’t take him long to come. And if she’s honest, it doesn’t take her much longer either. He’s the only person she’s slept with that stokes that flame so hot, it burns right through her like an inferno.
Speaking of… Lucy ramps up the vibrator and begins moving the dildo in and out, setting a steady pace. They’re of one mind; she can hear the wet sound of Tim’s hand moving up and down his cock. Lucy closes her eyes and she sees it, goes back to that previous image of him naked in bed, his impressive, gorgeous cock clutched in his fist, pumping up and down with a look of bliss on his features. He’s a beautiful specimen of a man, tan and muscled, carved like an ancient Greek statue.
Lucy gasps, the drag of the silicone against her walls driving her back to arch.
“Next time we do this, we Facetime,” Tim pants, and she can hear his movements becoming more hurried as well. “I want to watch you fuck yourself. I want to be able to see that beautiful body of yours flushed. Fuck, I love how pink you get with desire.”
Lucy’s breath catches, fucking herself faster. “Mmm… Oh God, Tim. I need you. I need you so badly. Your cock… your…”
Tim picks up as Lucy’s words trail off, her lips parted with silent moans. “Lucy, you have no idea… what it does to me… knowing that nothing is as good as my cock. Nothing will ever feel as good as I do inside that pretty pussy of yours. Not your fingers, not your toys, no limp dick you’ve ever had before me. Only me. ”
Lucy lets out a pleasured cry, hips squirming against her own onslaught. Twisting the end, she kicks the vibrator up another notch and it’s… shit, it’s a lot.
“Tim!” She’s wild now, chasing the high of her release. “ Shit, Tim. You’ve ruined me. Ruined me for any other cock. You always feel so fucking good. Always know how to touch me. Know how to fuck me so good. But don’t let it go to your head, asshole.”
Tim lets out a bark of laughter, but he doesn’t miss a beat. His hand is moving faster, and the moans he’s making are only making the lust Lucy feels reach critical mass.
“Are you close, sweetheart?”
Lucy nods, forgetting again that he can’t see her. “F-Fuck… yes… so close… so close…” She snakes her free hand down, immediately pressing the pads of her fingers to her clit, so hard and swollen. It’s not going to take much pressure to send her careening.
“Come, baby,” Tim growls, the sound so low, so guttural, that it’s fucking feral. “Fucking come for me. I wanna hear you. Come… come…”
This is about the only time her body and mind are one in listening to Tim and following instructions. Her orgasm hits her like a freight train, pleasure shooting from her swollen, soaking pussy and zinging off into her toes and fingers. Her back bends off the bed again, body taut for a breath-stopping moment, before it releases its grip and she drops down to the soft sheets.
Distantly, Lucy knows Tim has followed her, can hear his shaky moans as his own pleasure takes hold. She can see it, see the ropes of thick come painting his stomach, and damn if her mouth doesn’t water with the desire to lick him clean.
With her elbow slung over her face, Lucy attempts to catch her breath. It’s sexy as hell to hear Tim just as winded. This had been different, but hot as hell, which only just proves to Lucy that they can make just about anything work, including sating their loneliness while hundreds of miles away.
“I’ll be home before you know it, sweetheart,” Tim murmurs, and it’s really not fast enough for her, but she’ll deal.
“You better be,” she threatens with no real heat.
“Nothing’s going to keep me from coming back to you, Lucy. Not a Goddamn thing. Ever.”
Lucy’s eyes prickle again, burning with tears. God she hates it. Hates how much she loves him. Loves how much she loves him.
“Be safe, Tim. I love you.”
“Love you too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“G’night.”
With one last whispered good night from Tim, Lucy disconnects the call and lays back with a heaving sigh against their pillows.
She smiles, widely.