Michael Buble is singing on her speakers in her soft, candle-lit room. A single buzz on her nightstand. She picked up the phone without looking, already knowing who it was.

His voice came through the speaker like velvet smoke.

"What are you wearing?"

 She hesitated, breath catching. "Pink lace..." she whispered, almost ashamed by how fast the truth tumbled out of her.

"Take it off. Slowly. I want to hear it slide down your skin."

Her fingers trembled as they found the satin strap, easing it down one shoulder, then the other. The cool air kissed her bare chest. She didn’t need to see him. His voice painted him—powerful, patient, watching.

"Lie back."

She obeyed, her pulse drumming in her ears. The pink lace now pooled beside her, her skin bare beneath the sheets. The room felt warmer on her skin—like every time he came to her like this.

He spoke again, lower now. "Touch your lips slowly and then your neck... down your collarbone. That’s it. Imagine it's my mouth there."

A moan escaped her lips. The sound of her own need startled her.

His voice deepened. "Keep going. You know where I want you."
Her fingers obeyed.
“I am kissing your chest, and I am nibbling your left nipple. My hands are cupping your right breast.”
“God, I want your hands all over me!”

She heard him chuckle. “I know, babe. My mouth is kissing your tummy, all the way to your hips…. I am pulling down your pink lace. Open your thighs for me.”

She was unraveling, thread by thread, undone by syllables.

"You’re gorgeous."

She gasped, legs arching against the sheets, hips lifting into invisible hands.

“My mouth slowly tastes your clit. You are so wet, aren’t you, babe?”
“Oh, yes! Please don’t stop!”

She started to move her hips in circles as her middle finger rubbed her clit. “Not stopping. Feel my tongue sliding up and down, in circles, loving your taste, hands under your bum. Opening you up some more so I can reach your G-spot. My tongue is deeper into your beautiful pussy. Your scent fills the air.”

She was almost convulsing as she imagined her legs straddling his neck as they rocked.
“My finger and my tongue are moving in sync and faster and faster inside you. Feel it?”
“Yesss!”

She slid her middle finger deeper into her pussy. She did not care if it hurt a lot because she was still so tight. Faster and faster, and she felt like her core would explode. And just when her whole world clenched and broke open—

She woke.

Breathless. Alone.

Only her phone glowed beside her bed. No missed calls. No voice notes.

Just silence. And the wetness between her legs.

Still, her body remembered. And deep inside, she ached—for the man who had the voice like that of Eros, awakening Psyche from her sleep.