Hotline Pleasure

Chapter 2

A tiny, terrified part of me wanted to throw my phone across the room and pretend this never happened. But a much louder, much more desperate part clung to the tiny thrill buzzing beneath my skin.

My stomach dipped as three dots appeared.

He was typing.

Stranger: Yep.

I swallowed hard, fingers gripping my phone.

Okay. Okay. Play it cool.

Me: Can’t sleep?

A pause. Then—

Stranger: No. You?

I hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of my oversized sleep shirt.

Me: Same…Because I hate someone so much it’s ruining my life.

Another pause.

Then—

Stranger: Lucky bastard.

My breath hitched and I almost laugh? Lucky more like a curse.

Me: Not lucky. Just a terrible, heartless, miserable excuse for a human being.

Stranger: Harsh.

Me: Trust me. If you met him, you’d understand.

Stranger: Maybe I’d like him.

I huffed, flopping back onto my pillows.

Me: That would make you a terrible person too.

His reply came fast.

Stranger: Maybe I am.

A slow, creeping shiver rolled down my spine. I didn’t know what to say to that.My fingers hovered over the keyboard, my chest rising and falling in unsteady breaths. And then—

Stranger: Tell me more about him.

Me: No. That’s boring.

A beat.

Stranger: Then tell me something else.

Me: Like what?

Stranger: Something that makes you blush.

Oh.

Heat flooded my face. My fingers clenched around my phone as my pulse skipped, tumbled, crashed. I should not be doing this. I should not be feeling this—this strange, nervous excitement tightening in my stomach.

But I did.

I did.

Slowly, I bit my lip, heart skittering as I typed back.

Me: …I don’t think I should.

Stranger: You should.

Stranger: I bet you look really pretty when you blush.

Okay, I need to calm myself. We were just talking for a few nights now but those words seems to really get the best of me. I let my fingers tightened in my sheets, legs rubbing together in some flustered, anxious attempt to smother the strange, warm ache spreading through my body.

Oh, God.

I had no idea who he was.I had no idea why his words made my stomach twist in the most embarrassing way.

Me: I wouldn’t know.

Stranger: You don’t blush often?

I swallowed.

Me: I do. Too much.

Stranger: Cute.

A tiny, ridiculous sound got caught in my throat.

Cute?

No one called me cute. No one called me anything. But for some reason, hearing it from a faceless stranger made my whole body burn. I squeezed my eyes shut, rolling onto my side, phone clutched to my chest.

What was I doing?

What was I—

Another message popped up.

Stranger: Are you in bed?

I sucked in a breath. A dangerous, stupid question and yet—

Me: …Yes.

Before I knew it, the phone rang. I adjusted myself first into the bed and curled into my blankets, pressing my cheek into the pillow as the familiar, deep voice slid through the speaker.

"Missed me?"

That voice. I bit my lip, heart thudding against my ribs.

"I—" God, why did I always forget how to talk when he did this?

A chuckle. Slow. Deep.

"You did."

I huffed, hugging my pillow tighter. "Shut up."

Another laugh, but this time, lower. Amused.

Then—"How was your day, little one?"

My stomach flipped. I should be used to that nickname by now. I wasn’t.

"...Fine," I mumbled, cheeks burning. "Yup. How about you? How’s work?"

"Frustrating."

My heart skipped.He sounded...different tonight. Not the usual smooth, teasing warmth. Tighter. Sharper.

"You okay?" I asked softly, getting comfortable now.

A long, slow inhale.

Then—"Not really."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Then—"No."

I swallowed. This was different. Usually, our calls started with teasing. With laughter. With him making me blush so hard I could barely breathe.

But tonight?

Tonight, there was something charged in the air.

"...Do you wanna do something else?" I whispered, shutting my eyes because what the hell am I doing? Really, Madelaine?

"Take off your shirt."

"Wh-what?" I asked, almost jumping out of the bed.

"You heard me, little one."

I did. I really, really did.

I met him by accident. I was having a horrible night—humiliated, frustrated, so wrecked with embarrassment that I couldn’t sleep. I’d found the hotline while mindlessly scrolling, my hands still trembling from the way Killian Montenegro had destroyed me in his office.

It was supposed to be stupid. Anonymous.

A one-time thing.

I hadn’t expected him.

His voice was the first thing that caught me—low, smooth, and patient, like he already knew exactly what I needed before I did. Like he was waiting for me to figure it out.

And I did.

Over the last few weeks, we’d fallen into a routine. He was my stranger in the dark, the voice I clung to when the world felt too sharp, too cruel.

I didn’t know his name. He didn’t know mine.

It should’ve felt wrong. Dangerous.

"Take it off," he murmured, so soft, so easy. I made another tiny, wrecked noise, pressing my face into my pillow, heat burning the tips of my ears.

Pathetic. I was pathetic. But I couldn't stop.

" W-What if I don’t want to?" I whimpered, my whole body shivering.

"You can be good for me," he murmured, slow and knowing. "Or you can disappoint me."

A soft, fragile little gasp—mine.

A low, quiet exhale—his.

Then, the tiniest, most pitiful whisper—"O-okay."

My fingers fumbled, trembling as I lifted the hem, my vision going hot and blurred, my chest rising and falling in uneven little breaths. I can feel the cold in my skin and I shivered while I heard him humming in the background. Once I'm naked, I lay back on the bed almost trembling.

" Are you cold?"

I nodded even though he couldn't see me.

"You'll warm up," he murmured.

Oh gosh. Why is he being like this? I bit my lips, embarass how I almost want to moan just by those words.

He sighed. A slow, amused thing.

"Little one?"

I swallowed.

"Y-yes?"

"We haven't tried something."

S-Something? We almost tried everything!

I swallowed hard. "W-what?"

A soft hum, thoughtful, edged with something dark. "Something new."

“ N-New?” I made a tiny, humiliated noise, barely a whimper, remembering everything that we had done. It was humiliating but it was also the reason why I’m always late.

"You want to be good for me, don’t you, w***e?"

I swallowed hard, my lips parting, but no words came. Just soft, breathless little gasps, my head spinning, my body so warm I thought I might burn.

"Say it," he ordered, slow and steady. "Tell me how much you want to be good for me."

I pressed my face into the pillow, trying to muffle the desperate little sound that broke from my lips.

"I—" My voice wavered. "I w-want to—"

"Ah, ah." His tone was almost amused, but not quite. "Properly, little one."

I let out a shuddering breath, squeezing my eyes shut. My whole body was trembling.

"I want to be good for you," I whispered, barely more than a breath.

A slow, pleased exhale.

"Of course you do," he murmured. “ Now, where’s my gift, little one?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, already knowing where this would go. “ I-It’s in my drawer.”

"Take it out."

My fingers clenched around my sheets, the phone hot against my ear. "W-what?"

"You heard me."

"I—" My voice wobbled. "I don’t think—"

"You think too much." A dark chuckle, lazy and warm. "Do as you're told, little one."

I squeezed my eyes shut, pulse thudding wildly as I reached for my bedside drawer. My hands fumbled—shaking, clumsy, every movement feeling embarrassingly obvious, like he could see me.

The moment my fingers curled around the smooth surface, I hesitated.

"W-Wait–" I whispered, my breath catching. "It's... It's huge."

Silence.

Then, a low, pleased chuckle, rich with amusement.

"So am I."

My entire body burned.

"I-I... I don't think it will fit me," I stammered, voice so small, so unsure as I try to hold his gift in my hands. Gosh. This is --I am not a virgin but this one feels and looks so good than anything that I had in the past. "I—I don’t know if I can—"

"Relax, " he interrupted, firm but gentle, like he was soothing a frightened little thing. "We will not use it tonight. I want you to grab the small one.”

Thank goodness! I bit my lip so hard it nearly hurt, my body so warm I felt lightheaded.

"Uhmm..okay–oh s**t! " I shrieked, my hands almost bursts out of my body when I felt the small --almost shaped like a lipstick material in my mind suddenly vibrated in my palm. "S-Sir!" I squeaked, my voice breaking embarrassingly, my face burning so hot I had to press my hands over my cheeks.

A dark chuckle, rich with satisfaction."Uh-huh. Do you like it?"

I did. But why is he giving this to me? My breath hitched so hard I nearly choked on air because the vibration seems to grow stronger.

His laugh was warm and indulgent, like he found my struggle adorable. "Oh, little one," he sighed, like I was the cutest thing in the world. "You’re too easy."

I whimpered, curling further into myself, my skin burning.

"Your heart’s racing, isn’t it?" he asked softly.

I swallowed, lips parting, but no words came.

"I’ll take that as a yes," he said smugly.

I made a small, choked noise.

"Put it in," he coaxed, his voice like a slow pull of silk over bare skin. " I want you to put it inside you while I sleep."

I shut my eyes, heat licking at my throat. "I-- the whole night?"

A slow, deliberate tsk. "That’s a bit greedy, don't you think?"

I bit my lip, my toes curling. "I—I'm sorry. I'm putting it in."

A soft, pleased exhale. "That’s better."

I pressed my face into the pillow, mortified.

"You’re cute when you squirm," he mused, his tone thick with amusement. "But I wonder…" A thoughtful pause. "Are you cute when you fall apart?"

I squeaked. "I—!"

"That’s—" My voice cracked, barely a whisper. "That’s not fair."

He chuckled, low and indulgent, like I was the cutest thing in the world.

"Isn’t it?"

I clenched my fingers around the sheets, my entire body thrumming with warmth.

"You know what I think, little one?" he murmured, voice like warm silk.

I swallowed. "W-What?"

"I think you like being ruined."

I made a sound.

A helpless, broken little sound that I immediately wanted to take back.

From the other line, I probably heard him hum in satisfaction but I am not really sure because all my mind can think about is the strong vibration inside of me.

"See?" he said, slow, patient, a predator watching something small and trembling. "You don’t even argue anymore."

I wanted to argue.

I wanted to be strong, be normal, be someone who didn’t melt at the sound of his voice. But my mind was foggy, my body betraying me.

"I—" I tried, but my voice wavered, so weak and fragile it barely existed.

"You want me to keep going, don’t you?" he whispered.

I shook my head.

"Yes, you do."

I pressed my hands over my face, muffling the humiliated little sound threatening to break free.

He sighed, so patient, so amused. "Such a shy little thing."

My stomach twisted. "I-I am not—"

"Shhh." A warm chuckle.

"I—I should go."

"Hm." A thoughtful pause. "Is that what you want?"

No.

Absolutely not.

I bit my lip. "I—"

"Shhh," he murmured, like he already knew I’d crumble if he pushed even a little harder. "I’ll let you go, little one."

Relief and disappointment tangled in my chest.

I wasn’t sure which one was worse.

"But—" he continued, voice like a slow drag of velvet over my skin, "be good for me, okay?"

I swallowed hard. "O-Okay."

A soft, pleased exhale. "And don’t be late tomorrow."

My heart stopped.

What?

I jolted upright, my entire body going hot, panic twisting my stomach into knots.

"Wait—" I choked, blood draining from my face. "What do you—?"

A dark chuckle.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

My breath hitched, realization slamming into me so hard it stole the air from my lungs.

No. It couldn’t be.

He wouldn’t—

"See you tomorrow, little one."

The line went dead.

And I forgot how to breathe.