I almost dropped the phone hearing the voice on the other end. I liked
Caylen a lot—likely more than any other singles in my forty-plus playgroup. I felt a rush of heat enter my face. It was always like this when talking to, or even thinking about, this man. Suddenly I became a drooling teenager. Perhaps it was knowing what he could do to me—or make my body do—that made me respond so hard. I was an instant puddle of lust, melting into the phone, catching myself on a chair before I hit the floor.
“Caylen . . . ” A lump stuck in my throat. Even with a regular lover in my bed, it hadn’t been often enough to fill my endless s****l cravings. I always have, and think I always will, want more. I found myself visualizing Caylen’s tall muscular form, his smooth, dark skin, and his thick, meaty c*
