Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
This isn't for real. I'm not thinking of what I want here. Only what she needs.
Ivy is a brainy type. Intellectual. In her head. Good for grades. Not for sex.
I look into her gorgeous green eyes and brush a stray hair behind her ear. "You're nervous."
She nods and her expression settles. It helps, to acknowledge the feeling.
"You're meeting a stranger for pre-planned sex." I don't mention the financial arrangement. That tends to make people more nervous. Or shameful. Unless they get off on it. But I can tell that's not her thing. "It's an awkward situation. A first date on steroids."
"For you too?"
"A little," I admit. I'm used to meeting new clients, but I'm still human. I still worry about all the usual things. "You're beautiful and intelligent and you're probably going to tell all your friends about this."
"A few." Her smile is equal parts shy and coy.
It's painfully sexy. I let the desire buzz through my veins then I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.
A technique from my early days. When I needed to learn to draw things out longer and longer. These days, it's rare I feel enough of a rush I need to pause.
I hold her gaze. I smile back, with my own blend of coy confidence. "I want to make sure you have a good story."
"You have no idea." She wraps her arm around my bicep right as she pushes the door open.
She steps into her bedroom.
It's like the rest of the space. Just decorated enough that it doesn't feel empty. The lack of extra stuff really emphasizes all these aromatherapy candles.
A spicy flower. Just the right mix of masculine and feminine. Sweet and sexy.
A side of her I doubt she’s shown anyone yet.
She stops in front of the bed. "Sorry. I am nervous. I… I did have sex, once, after my divorce, but it was horrible."
Now, we're getting somewhere. "What was missing?"
"A lot, but, mostly, an emotional connection."
I can't compete with a marriage, but I can offer something. "Casual can be connected too."
"No offense, Romeo, but that sounds like a line."
Shit. Am I that off my game? It is a line, of course, but it usually works. "Is that not what you want?"
"A line?"
"To feel connected?"
"Not if it’s bullshit," she says.
"Depends how you define bullshit," I say. "If we both agree we're playing a game of pretend, then is that bullshit? Or just fun?"
"I'm not very good at games," she says.
Okay. Maybe I need to try something different with her. Less pretending. More authenticity.
I respect that. But can I do it?
"Okay. No bullshit." I offer my hand. "I'm here, because you paid me, but now that I am here, I'm looking forward to the experience. I want to peel off that dress. I want to taste your nipples. I want to know what you sound like when you come. And I want to leave, knowing you're going to tell all your friends this was the best sex you've had in a long time."
"All ego."
A laugh spills from my lips. I can't help it. She’s right. "Part ego."
"What’s the other part?"
"You never enjoy your work?"
“At times.” She looks me in the eyes. “It will be the best sex I’ve had in awhile, but that doesn’t mean anything. I haven’t had good sex in years.”
“My ego.” I press my hand to my heart as if I’m wounded.
She smiles.
She likes some teasing. She likes that level of artifice. "I like learning what a new person likes. And I do find you attractive. I want to see you out of your clothes. I want to see your body stretched over mine.” How far can I push her here? Is she ready for I want to see you take my cock? No. That’s too much. I need to slow down. “But you’re the one who sets the terms. So, tell me. What do you want. How do you like it? I'll do whatever the fuck you like. However you like. As long as you like."
"For one hour."
"I don't watch the clock." That is true. Unless I have another client, I get the job done. Despite popular belief, if you're with a woman who knows what she likes, it's not hard to make her come. The men who struggle are the ones who aren't willing to listen. (Though I do admit, the process of finding what she likes—that can take a while. I typically suggest overnights for new clients).
"Teasing," she says.
My blood rushes south. I love teasing. A good thing. It's necessary in my line of work. But, fuck, with a woman who loves teasing—
Damn, it's sexy to make an in-control woman beg.
I run my fingers a soft touch. Enough she curls into the gesture. Enough she settles. "Will you show me, Ivy? Will you show me exactly how you like to be teased?"