by Claire Kent
As she came down from her orgasm, she realized what he was asking. “You come too,” she said hoarsely. “Come, Ander. Come.”
Her intimate muscles were tight, and they felt tighter as Ander pushed and thrust into her from below.
Then she felt his hot, wet mouth at the hollow of her neck. Then she felt his teeth.
He bit down hard as he climaxed, and Lori cried out in surprised release, coming again unexpectedly from the mingling of pleasure and pain.
Their bodies twitched and rocked and softened as the waves of orgasm finally faded.
She was hot and sweaty, and so was Ander. She panted desperately against his shoulder and neck while he panted desperately against hers.
After a minute, he heaved himself up and pulled out of her the way he always did. As his cock slid out, her body resisted. Her inner walls seemed to clutch at his cock, and she felt a raw sensation as he finally slid out.
When he returned from disposing of the condom, she really wanted him to get back into bed. He looked warm, relaxed, and sated. Almost irresistible. She wanted to cuddle a little. To be held, hugged, cherished.
She wasn’t completely delusional though. This was one of the consequences of going about sex the way she had. Without a deep emotional connection, there would always be something lacking. She figured she could manage to kiss him while they fucked without losing her sense of perspective. But pretending to snuggle afterward would definitely be going too far.
So she told him he could take a shower if he wanted. And she was feeling more herself when he reemerged, composed and fully dressed in his charcoal-gray suit.
He sat down in a chair and met her eyes as she lounged in the bed. “So what did you think? Did it feel too unnatural, like you were pretending?”
She hadn’t expected the question, so she had no choice but to answer him honestly. “No. I wasn’t pretending at all. I mean, it didn’t feel fake. I liked it. It felt like a natural part of sex that I’d been missing out on before. Was it weird for you?”
“Of course not.” He pulled his smartphone out of his case. “Do you want to schedule some other engagements this month?”
“Yeah. Why don’t we? When do you have available?”
“When were you thinking?”
Lori blinked in confusion. “I usually just take your earliest opening. When are you next free?”
“I have Friday available.” Ander was clicking on his smartphone like he was looking through his appointments.
“This Friday?” Lori’s voice squeaked a little. “That soon? Aren’t you booked up?”
Ander’s face looked oddly still for a moment. “I told you I’m cutting back a little.”
“Oh. Yeah. Friday is good. And maybe sometime next week. I’m going to be in Quebec for the weekend the week after that, so we’ll have to work around the trip.”
They set up a few more sessions, and then Ander got up to leave. Lori handed him the envelope of cash, and he didn’t even glance at it. Just slid it into his pocket.
She pulled on her cashmere pants before she walked him to the door. She felt a little shy as she smiled and said goodbye. She didn’t know why she suddenly felt bashful, but it had something to do with the way he looked at her when he opened the door. Almost questioning. And strangely sweet.
“I’ll see you on Friday,” he said, lingering in the hall outside the door.
She smiled again, still ridiculously shy. “Yeah. I’m looking forward to it.”
“I’m glad you changed your mind. About scheduling engagements with me.”
Something softened in her chest at his slightly stilted words. Maybe it was relief she felt. She was so glad that he seemed to enjoy his engagements with her. Obviously, this wasn’t some sort of fated romance, but at least she was a little more to him than just a job.
He seemed to like her well enough, and he didn’t mind having sex with her. She felt like that was quite an accomplishment, given her complete lack of experience.
“Me too.”
She watched him walk down the hall to the elevator. Lean, upright, sleek, and urban. Infinitely experienced. And somehow wounded.
She would see him again on Friday. Just four days from now. She would get to kiss him again.
She couldn’t wait.
Eight
LORI WASN’T ENTIRELY comfortable.
Her pussy was raw, her back felt bruised, her thigh and stomach muscles were aching, and her feet were losing circulation.
And she was about to come. Again.
At a little before midnight on Thursday night, Ander had been getting ready to leave, and Lori had innocently remarked that she’d only come four times that evening, when on the previous Friday he’d made her come six times. She’d just been teasing since she was perfectly satisfied with the evening’s activities.
But Ander had heaved her up, sprawled her back onto the table, pushed her chemise up and her legs apart, and brought her to climax twice with his hand.
Then, erect again, he’d rolled on another condom and entered her, lifting her legs up so her ankles were propped on his shoulders as he started to thrust. It was an entirely undignified position, her legs in the air and her hands fumbling around on the smooth table for something to clutch. Her spine was sore from being pushed back and forth on the hard surface by Ander’s forceful motion. The sound of slapping flesh and wet suction was vaguely embarrassing, as were the soft grunts she made to the tempo of his rutting.
She really shouldn’t be enjoying it so much.
She was, though, and she bit her lip hard as her muscles tensed up and the tremors of her seventh orgasm that evening started to rip through her body. She stifled her cry of release, and it came out as a high-pitched keening sound.
She gasped for Ander to come too as the waves of satisfaction washed over her. She gazed up at him breathlessly as his flushed face twisted on his last few pushes inside her. His fingers tightened bruisingly in the flesh of her ass, and he choked out a guttural word as he rolled his hips slowly, as if he were savoring his release.
Lori had to stifle a giggle as he pulled out and helped her off the table. She clung to the edge for support, her legs barely able to hold her weight. She couldn’t believe they’d just done that. After Ander had already showered and packed up his case.
As he went to the bathroom to take care of the condom, she glanced at the clock and blinked at the time.
“I went twenty minutes over,” she said when he returned to the room. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Ander’s eyes scanned her from her messy hair to her bare feet, and she saw his lips give a little twitch.
Knowing exactly what that expression meant, she narrowed her eyes. “What’s so funny?”
“I wasn’t laughing.”
“Yes, you were.”
His mouth softened as he closed up his case again. “I really wasn’t laughing. I was just thinking you look a little worse for wear.”
With a huff, Lori peered in a mirror. She was sorer than she’d expected to be, so she kept one hand on the table for support. She had another bruise on her neck, and she was pretty sure she’d have marks from his fingers on her bottom and thighs. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was covered with a sheen of perspiration. Plus her hair was slightly damp from all the effort she’d put into sex tonight, sticking out in crazy, messy flips.
With a scowl for Ander, she said, “It’s your fault, so you have no reason to laugh. If you had hair, you’d look messy too.”
The smile that had been twitching on the edges of his mouth emerged completely. “No argument here.”
Glancing again at the clock, Lori felt a little pang of worry. “I’m sorry we went overtime. Should I give you—”
“No.” Ander interrupted, a little sharply. “Don’t worry about it.”
She swallowed, afraid she’d offended him. He was generally pretty good-natured, but she was learning more and more that he had a sensitive psyche he hid beneath all the layers
of cool sophistication. And she didn’t always know when or how she might accidentally bruise it.
She took a step away from the table to go pick up her robe, feeling overly exposed all of a sudden in her skimpy satin chemise. But she winced on the first step as a jolt of soreness caught her between the legs.
“Sore?” Ander asked, stepping over to put a hand around her waist and then help her into a chair. “Was I too rough?”
“Oh, no. I would have stopped you if it wasn’t good.” Reassured at his considerate manner, she grinned up at him. “It was good.”
Ander pulled out his smartphone and started clicking. “Next time?”
“Yeah. We’re on for a week from Monday, right?”
“You don’t want anything earlier?”
She was really curious about how much he’d managed to free up his schedule recently, but she’d been too hesitant to pry into exactly why he was cutting back on clients. Every time she’d tried to hint at the subject, he’d closed down like a portcullis. “I’ve got that trip to Quebec.”
He looked at her blandly, and she felt a little tremor of nerves as she considered a possibility. Then she decided she had nothing to lose. So she said casually, “Have you ever been to Quebec?”
“Quebec City?” At her nod in affirmation, he continued, “No, I haven’t.”
“Oh. I’ve got to go up there for a conference. I’m giving a lecture on Friday night and then have to attend a banquet on Saturday night. But I have all day Saturday and most of Sunday to hang out and do some sightseeing.” She almost made the suggestion, but then she chickened out. So she concluded lamely, “I was wondering if you had any ideas about what I should see, if you’d been there before.”
“I haven’t been there,” Ander repeated. He was still playing with his smartphone. Not really looking at her. “I’ve heard it’s a great city. It’s on my list of places to go.”
He appeared to be speaking absently, as if he weren’t really absorbed in the conversation. But he’d given her a great lead-in, so she steeled her courage up again. “I don’t suppose you want to—” The words stuck in her throat as a wave of anxious self-consciousness washed over her.
She had no idea why she was nervous about asking him. She’d paid for him to fuck her many times over the past six months. But something about this possibility made her feel more vulnerable than her requests for the normal sessions with Ander.
Ander’s eyes shot up to her face. “You don’t suppose I would want to what?”
She gulped. “Come with me.” Now that she’d gotten it said, she hurried on in a rush. “I mean, I know you do weekends. It was on your list of services. But this is probably too short notice. I should have planned earlier, but I was just thinking it might be fun. I mean, if you’re available. You’re probably not. It’s no big deal. Forget I said anything.”
“Which weekend is it again?” Ander asked. He was clicking on his smartphone again. His distraction with it was getting a little annoying—she could only imagine the kinds of appointments he had scheduled in it—but at least he seemed to be taking her suggestion seriously. “I have plans the tenth and eleventh.”
“No,” she said, feeling a little hopeful. “It’s next weekend. I know it’s short notice, so it’s really fine if you—”
“I don’t have any engagements scheduled then,” Ander said, lowering his smartphone. “I think I could do it.”
Lori felt a ridiculous rush of pleasure. “Really? Are you sure? I’d pay for airfare and the hotel and everything, like you have on your list of prices. And I know you have the base rate for a weekend, and then I guess we could add up all the sex—”
“Lori.” Ander interrupted again. “We’ll figure it out later.”
His lips were pressed together tightly. She must have offended him again. It was a little awkward—having his company be a monetary commodity—but this was his business and she wasn’t sure how else to address it. It was always better when they could just leave it unspoken. Just pass the envelope at the end of the night. She didn’t know how they could make plans for the weekend trip without working the money out first though.
She shrugged, however, and left the topic alone. Just said she’d email him with more details.
Despite the slight awkwardness, she was really excited about his joining her on the trip. He would be such good company. They could look around the city together. Ander was so intelligent, informed, and witty that she knew he’d be the best kind of sightseeing companion.
Plus they could have a whole weekend of sex.
TERRASSE DUFFERIN was crowded late on Saturday morning, and Lori and Ander milled through tourists, street performers, and vendors as they made their way along the promenade.
They’d gotten up early that morning to hit some of the most popular sites before the crowds, but now they were just leisurely wandering through Vieux Québec, the old city, without a particular plan or destination.
The sky was blue and cloudless, the sunshine warm, and the breeze off the river brisk and fresh. Lori loved the feel of cobblestone under her shoes from the old streets and the historic architecture of the buildings surrounding her. And she even enjoyed some of the tacky tourist entertainment. She and Ander paused for a full ten minutes to watch two performers dressed as Wolfe and Montcalm fight a mock duel in an amusing reflection on their historic battle.
As she’d expected, Ander was both informed and witty. He told her details about military confrontations along the St. Lawrence at various points in history, and he didn’t hesitate to wryly point out inaccuracies in the various recreations of history designed for gullible tourists.
She enjoyed his irony immensely, but she couldn’t feel particularly ironic herself. She was having too good a time. When they finished strolling along Terrasse Dufferin, they started down the stairs that led to the Lower Town and the river.
The stairs were very long, rather uneven, and incredibly steep. And Lori was careful as she descended, not wanting to humiliate herself by tumbling head-over-heels to the bottom. She clapped her hands in silly delight when she made it to the bottom, and she didn’t even care that Ander chuckled at her in dry amusement.
It was one of those perfect days. The weather was delightful. Her surroundings were inspiring. The wind off the St. Lawrence River was invigorating. And she had the rest of the day, plus most of tomorrow, to look forward to.
She would have had a good time here by herself, but it was even better with a companion like Ander.
“Oh look,” she said as they started along the walk by the river. She pointed to a vendor down the way. “Ice cream.”
Ander lifted an eyebrow. “It’s not even eleven in the morning.”
“What’s your point?” Lori demanded, frowning up at him.
He laughed again and shook his head. But he gestured toward an empty bench. “Grab a seat while you can. I’ll get you one.”
With another rush of joie de vivre, Lori grinned and started to pull her wallet out of her purse. “Here. Let me—”
“Don’t.” Ander interrupted, leaving her abruptly to walk over to the ice cream vendor.
Lori frowned as she went to sit on the one empty bench in front of the river. He had no right to be grumpy with her for trying to pay for the ice cream. Those had been his terms from the very beginning. It said so on his little sheet of services. The client pays for travel, lodging, food, and whatever else was purchased over the course of an engagement. He’d exchanged some currency when she did at the airport, but she assumed he’d spend his cash only on himself. His reaction made her very uncomfortable although she couldn’t specify exactly why.
She decided it felt like they were friends. While their relationship had always been professional, they’d gotten to know each other pretty well over the last months. She genuinely liked him. And she was pretty sure he liked her.
She supposed awkwardness was inevitable whenever the commercial aspect of their relationship arose.
Shrugging to herse
lf, she pushed the concern from her mind. She was in too good a mood to worry about it at the moment, and Ander was on his way back with two ice cream cones.
Although she didn’t say anything, she was ridiculously pleased that he’d gotten himself a cone too—even if it was ten forty-five in the morning.
His terseness had dissipated on his return, so they chatted idly about Quebec and some of the tourists around them. Then they faded off into companionable silence.
“I wish I didn’t have that banquet tonight,” Lori said eventually, breaking the lull in conversation as she started crunching on her cone.
“I thought you said your lecture last night went well.”
“It did. I just hate banquets like this. I always have to sit at the front table with all the boring, important people. It feels like I’m just there as part of the show. You know? It kind of makes me feel like I’m being used. Like an object or something.” She sighed. She’d always wanted to be famous, but she’d been learning that notoriety—even very minor notoriety like a best-selling romance novelist—wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
Ander made a wordless hum, but it sounded affirmative.
And it made her feel a little better. “I guess you might know what I mean,” she said unthinkingly.
He lifted his eyebrows quizzically.
Lori swallowed hard, feeling a lump of anxiety at her careless turn of conversation. He’d already shown himself to be a little sensitive today, and she really didn’t want to insult him. “I mean... I just meant that maybe you know how icky it is for people to just see you as an object. I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant,” Ander said quietly, licking some of his melting ice cream off his cone. “I do know.”
She let out a relieved exhalation, and she found the courage to ask, “How do you handle it?”
He was quiet for a long time. So long she assumed she’d lost him. But then he finally said, his eyes focused out on the river, “You just accept it.”
