Perfect for Me by Claudia Burgoa

Chapter Twenty-Six

Scott

‘Sexy’ is being independent, being confident, and having fun. ― Mollie King

Scott: I hate you.

Hazel: That’s a lie, but why are you complaining?

Scott: I’m at a gala by myself, again. We have an agreement.

Hazel: I offered for you to stay and help me with my parents’ house.

Scott: I don’t like you when you’re playing with power tools and hammers.

Hazel: I’m good with the hammer.

Scott: I’d rather you be in New York with me, testing out my power tool.

Hazel: Power tool? Someone thinks highly of his little cock.

Scott: Little? What happened to I love your thick, long dick?

Hazel: I appreciate it. I bet many women will pay to play with it. We should auction it for charity.

Scott: Would you bid?

Hazel: I might. Maybe I’ll let someone else have it.

Scott: Like you’d let anyone else have it. What happened to Hazel doesn’t share?

Galas without Hazel are unbearable. But at least, she’s humoring me by texting back.

Hazel: How many women so far?

I groan. She changed the subject.

Scott: What’s the question?

Hazel: How many have asked you to dance or to fuck them?

Scott: Two offered me their hotel key, three wanted to dance, and many others have asked about my pretty girlfriend.

Hazel: You have a pretty girlfriend?

Scott: Since Harrison is taken, everyone assumes you’re mine.

Scott: I wish you were…

I stop myself and erase the text before I do something stupid. We are hundreds of miles away from each other—too far to have that kind of discussion.

Hazel: I swear I’ll go to the next one.

Scott: You keep saying you’ll come soon, and you haven’t.

Hazel: Next weekend?

I ignore that text because I’m not going to be in town next weekend.

Hazel: Tell me, what tuxedo are you wearing?

Scott: Oxford gray, no tie today.

Hazel: Living dangerous, Everhart. Is it in your pocket?

Scott: Yeah, waiting for you. I miss you.

Hazel: Tell me, what’s going on?

Scott: Since I have so much time on my hands, I’ve found at leastseven places where I could’ve fucked you. I always wanted to have sex with you while you wore one of those beautiful gowns.

Hazel: Seven?

Scott: I regret never fucking you at one of these events.

Hazel: A little crass, aren’t we?

Scott: Are you going to punish me?

Hazel: LOL!

She sends multiple laughing while crying emojis.

Hazel: How do you think I’d look wearing a corset and fishnet tights?

Scott: Crotchless corset?

My dick aches at the thought of the lace and silk bodysuits she wears under her clothing. I’ve ripped a few and begged her to buy crotchless ones for easy access.

Hazel: And a whip.

Scott: I don’t care about the whip as much as I care about your attire. Is this roleplay or wanting to experiment with a new lifestyle?

Hazel: Neither one.

Scott: It could be a once-in-a-lifetime event. Your hands tied behind you and your legs attached to a spreader.

Hazel: I know you like kink, but that’s a little much for what you usually do.

Scott: You love it when I tie you up.

Hazel: Scott, I suggest you steer the conversation to a safer subject. Things are getting out of hand.

Scott: I could do a few things I know you’ll enjoy.

Hazel: This is a bad idea, Scott. Let’s talk tomorrow.

Scott: Texting?

She doesn’t respond.

No, no, don’t shut me down.

We’re clearly getting somewhere. I can either jump on a plane or ... what else can I do?

“If you’ll excuse me, sir, I have to make a call.” I turn to Hazel’s grandfather, who frowns at me.

“I should be heading home too,” he agrees, rising from his seat. “When you talk to my girl, tell her to call me more often. I miss her.”

“Yes, sir,” I lie. There’s no fucking way I’m mentioning her grandfather during my phone conversation.

He walks a couple of steps and looks over his shoulder. “It’s time to man up and tell Hazel how you feel, Scott.”

“Yes, sir.” I half smile.

It’s not that easy, sir. Your favorite person in the world is more complicated than she lets you know. And I’m a complete idiot.

I leave the hotel and climb into the service car waiting for me. The driver rushes through the streets when I offer a hefty tip if he makes it to my house in less than twenty minutes. I call her when I arrive home and run to my room. I’m a man starved from his favorite meal.

Hazel: I’m not answering that call.

“Fuck!”

Scott: You can’t ask about the corsets without expectations.

Hazel: It was an innocent question.

Scott: There’s nothing innocent about your question. You in a corset is a sinful image that I want to explore. If you asked, it’s because you want it.

Hazel: I prefer to buy lingerie, laces, silk…something see-through.

Scott: Stop. My cock is swollen, hungry, and pressing against my slacks.

Hazel: Don’t you wish I was there to unbuckle your pants. Your choices would be: riding you or …

And the stupid dancing dotes keep rolling on my screen.

Scott: Or what?

Hazel: My mouth.

“Seriously?” Her voice has a hint of annoyance and amusement when she answers my call.

“How would you start? Pulling my dick out of my boxers, touching it?”

“Scott,” Hazel gasps.

“I love when your soft hands touch my length and when your mouth—”

“You like when I tease you with my tongue. Licking you like a popsicle. Swirling my tongue, sucking your balls.” She laughs in delight. “Wait, we have to stop.”

“I’m stroking myself, imagining it’s you. Keep going,” I beg her.

“Where are you, Scott?”

“My room,” I say, undressing. I palm my dick, closing my eyes as I picture her. “Sitting on my bed. I’m imagining you on your knees and opening your mouth.”

“Hazel!” I hear someone calling her name on the other line.

I finally pay attention to what’s going on the other side of the line. Music, voices…where is she?

“Who is that?”

“Fitz.” She sighs, her voice almost a whisper. “This isn’t a good time.”

“Are you at a party?”

“He brought the party to my apartment.” I hear the locks moving, and the noise is even louder. “I’ll be there in a second.”

“Can’t you just kick him out?”

“Time’s up.” I hear Fitz’s voice. “Scott, she’s mine this weekend. Don’t call us. We’ll call you. Bye.”

I hate my brother.

Hazel: I’ll be thinking of you.

Scott: Call me after everyone leaves.

Hazel: No, it’s a bad idea, Scotty.

Scott: I won’t see you next week. Come to London with me. I won’t be in San Fran for two weeks, and I doubt I’ll survive without you.

Hazel: I’ll miss you. Bring me candy from England. You know what I like.

Scott: I know what you like, and if you come with me, I’ll give it to you.

Hazel: Sorry, you’ll have to use your imagination and your hand while thinking about fucking my mouth. Hitting the back of my throat. I’d swallow. You know I love to swallow.

Hazel: Good night, Scotty.

I drop the phone on my bed, then close my hand around my cock and stroke it. I’m imagining her hot tongue licking me, teasing my dick with her mouth. My hands tug her hair as my tip hits the back of her throat. My stomach clenches and my spine contracts as I spurt jizz over my hand.

I’m spent, unsatisfied, hungry. My heart stops beating. The starving loneliness that surrounds me devours me with every breath I take.