Persia had barely hung up the phone when it buzzed loudly in her ear again
Wondering why she’d been given another call so close to the end of her shift, she reluctantly answered the line. George should’ve been the last caller of the evening, she thought agitatedly, though she knew she needed to earn as much as possible.
“Hello,” she breathed in her sultriest voice. “What’s on your sweet mind?”
“You,” was the simple, yet strong and commanding, reply. “I finally got up the nerve to call you. I’ve been thinking about you all day. Your commercial is so hot.”
She was used to the shy guys, the ones who preferred that she set the tempo. Despite getting up the nerve to call, this guy sounded pretty sure of himself. But Persia wasn’t the same woman in the commercials the caller was referring to, though her clients at License to Thrill weren’t privy to that information.
Before Persia could manage another thought, the caller spoke again.
“By the way, my name is Luke Lockhart.”
LINDA HUDSON-SMITH
was born in Canonsburg, Pennsylvania, and raised in Washington, D.C. She furthered her education at Duff’s Business Institute in Pittsburgh. The mother of two sons, Linda shares a residence with her husband, Rudy, in League City, Texas.
In 2000, after illness forced her to leave a successful marketing and public relations career, Linda turned to writing for healing and as a creative outlet. Dedicated to inspiring readers to overcome adversity against all odds, she has published twenty-four acclaimed novels.
For the past seven years Linda has served as the national spokesperson for the Lupus Foundation of America. She travels around the country delivering inspirational messages of hope. In 2002, her Lupus Awareness campaign was a major part of her book tour to Germany, where she visited numerous military bases. Linda was also recently awarded the key to the city by the mayor of Crestview, Florida, for the contributions she’s made by educating others about Lupus. Linda is an active supporter of the NAACP and the American Cancer Society. She is also a member of Romance Writers of America and the Black Writers Alliance.
To find out more about Linda Hudson-Smith, please visit her Web site at www.lindahudsonsmith.com.
Destiny Calls
ESSENCE BESTSELLING AUTHOR Linda Hudson-Smith
This novel is dedicated to the loving memory of
BELINDA JO SMITH
Your memory will live on forever
in the hearts of your beloved family
Sunrise: October 11, 1962
Sunset: November 13, 2008
Dear Reader,
I sincerely hope you enjoy reading Destiny Calls. I had so much fun with Dakota Farraday, a dynamic young woman with some closely guarded secrets, and Ethan Robinson, a fascinating English professor who discovers one of these secrets, only to learn much, much more.
I’m very interested in hearing your comments and thoughts on my story. If you would like to receive a reply, please enclose a self-addressed, stamped envelope along with all your comments to: Linda Hudson-Smith, 16516 El Camino Real, Box 174, Houston, TX 77062. Or you can e-mail your comments to [email protected]. Please visit my Web site and sign my guest book at www.lindahudsonsmith.com.
Linda Hudson-Smith
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Prologue
“How do you like it?” Persia asked the caller, her tone soft and seductive.
“Slow, wet and hot,” the bass voice responded. “I like to take my time.”
“Interesting. I believe slow and easy is always better. I go for lots of foreplay. That’s what makes me wet. What’s your favorite position?” she asked, trying not to cringe. No matter how many men she talked to, she still had a hard time voicing certain lines.
“Are you always open to what the man wants?”
“Definitely. I’m a girl who likes to please her man, but I have limitations.”
“Everyone is entitled to restrictions. How often do you like to have sex?”
“Whenever the mood hits me. It’s not always possible to follow through, especially at inopportune times.”
“I like the woman on top. What do you prefer?”
“I love the man to be in control, but I don’t have a problem swapping roles.”
“I think I know what you mean,” he responded. “Do you ever resort to self-pleasuring? I love women who are into that. There’s something strong about them.”
Persia stuck her finger down her throat in a mock gesture of gagging herself. Even if she was into it, she wouldn’t share it with him. It was a healthy alternative, but just not for her. She quickly put herself in check. She had to work.
“I know the majority of men are into that, but I’m not sure if all women indulge. You guys start that at a really early age, but I understand it’s healthy.”
“I started at fourteen. My friends told me I was a late bloomer.”
“But why would I ever do that when I’ve got you? I love how you give it to me. I can’t imagine self-pleasuring would make me feel nearly as good as you do right now.”
“You’d be surprised. Maybe you should try it. I can already visualize you in the act.” He groaned with desire.
“Either way, this experience is utterly amazing. Visualize me taking you all the way there. I feel you inside of me,” she said, sounding breathless. “Can you feel how hot I am for you?” Persia knew she had the caller going. His breathing was way past labored.
“You feel hot enough to pop my thermometer. I love it when you get this hot and crazy with desire for me,” he whispered sweetly.
She moaned softly, wantonly. “I love it when you whisper sweet things to me. Just for that, the candy store is open only for you. You can taste both the white and dark chocolates and lots of my other delectable sweets. What’s your tongue’s pleasure?”
At this point, Persia almost always changed gears, revving up her client’s engine, taking hot and heavy to another level, making it hard for him to stay in control. As he cried out her name, she knew he was toppling. Persia screamed out simultaneously.
Persia could always tell what was going on with the client. His low guttural moans were a clear indication. A lot of times it didn’t take very much to get the men off and running. As he continued gasping, Persia cringed inwardly, warding off tears. Never once had she fulfilled one of these calls without crying during or afterward.
He had simply referred to himself as Larry when he’d