Allure (Forbidden #1)

by Michelle Betham

  I throw my head back as he lifts me up slightly, sliding my knickers down and I groan louder this time. I’ve never wanted sex with a client so bad before; never felt my skin burn up or my thighs ache for a man in this way. It’s strange; alien, almost, but I’m running with it. Whoever this man is, he knows how to play this game better than I do.

  He places a hand on each of my knees and spreads my legs, stepping between them before running his hands back up my thighs, pushing my dress up further, and I swear to God I am panting. I’m desperate to feel him inside me, so desperate I almost have to stop for a second to try and find some of that composure I know I’ve lost. But I don’t have a chance.

  Our eyes lock again, and once more the message is loud and clear, even though neither of us has uttered a word in a while. I feel my breath start to quicken as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a foil packet, and the relief I feel is immense. I knew he’d done this before. He knows the rules. I should have guessed.

  ‘OK?’ he whispers, and I nod. I just want him in me now. I’m tired of waiting.

  I lower my head as he unzips himself, freeing his rock-hard cock, which causes me to bite down on my lip like some horny teenager who’s never seen a man’s dick before. But, come on! His is impressive. And I’ve seen a lot over the years. Yeah. His is really impressive.

  He looks at me as he rips the foil packet open with his teeth, sliding the condom down over his hard-on like a man who’s done this many times before, and I’m grateful for his experience. I’ve had some who haven’t known their left from their right, which makes for a frustrating time all round. But not this. We both know what we’re doing here.

  I close my eyes as he kisses me again, his fingers winding in my hair, and I wrap my legs firmly around his hips, unable to stop another moan from escaping, my mouth still resting against his as he finally pushes inside me. It feels – he feels incredible. And when I cry out it’s real, I’m not acting. I’m not giving him what I think he wants to hear, not this time. I’m really feeling it.

  His thrusts start out slow, almost ridiculously gentle but at the same time they carry so much impact I can’t even begin to understand what’s happening here. It’s crazy, but it’s real, and the fact I know this won’t be the only time I get to feel this man inside me tonight… This is dangerous, I know it is, but I can’t control it.

  I throw my head back, my eyes still closed as he pounds into me that little bit harder, his mouth resting against the base of my throat, his hands on my hips as he keeps me steady. And I can already feel it beginning, that slow, sensual build-up that happens to me very rarely. Usually I only feel this when I’m finger-fucking myself, or when I’m indulging in a little girl-on-girl action with my partner-in-crime on that score, a gorgeous brunette called Kandi-Ann. We charge a hell of a lot for that particular service, because we don’t offer it all that often now, and I wonder if Neal likes that kind of thing. And then I pull back from those thoughts. I don’t think I want to see him fucking Kandi-Ann, and the fact I even had that thought makes me feel slightly sick. But I push all that aside, and once more concentrate on what’s happening here.

  His groans are becoming louder, his fingers digging into my naked flesh as his thrusts intensify, until he eventually explodes. I grip him tight inside me, forcing every last drop out of him, and despite everything I once thought, I really can’t help wondering what it would be like to go bareback with this man. But that just isn’t done. And I know that once I’m back home, in a few hours’ time; when all of this crazy shit is over I’ll start thinking straight again. And be relieved that all I did was wonder.

  Neal

  She’s got the craziest internal muscles. Her grip on my cock is insane! But, Jesus, I’ve not come like that in a long time. This was well worth skipping dinner for.

  I close my eyes and rest my forehead against her shoulder. I need to get my breath back, because I’m not done yet. Hours stretch ahead of us, and I’m gonna make sure I get my money’s worth. Besides, she didn’t come. And, hey, I might be the one paying for this, but I want whoever I’m with to get some benefit, too. Anyway, I need a rest before we go for round two.

  I pull out of her and slide the full-to-bursting condom off, tossing it into the trash can beside the sideboard. And then I look at her; her beautiful face is flushed, her eyes shining, and it makes her look so much younger than she is. When I told her she was beautiful, I meant it.

  ‘That was good.’ I smile, and she smiles back, and I swear my cock is acting all crazy now because it surely can’t be ready to go again so soon.

  ‘It was really good,’ she says, that accent of hers making my skin break out in more goose bumps. And there isn’t a woman who’s been able to do that to me for a long time.

  ‘I need to see you naked, darlin’.’

  She lifts a leg and gently kicks me backwards before sliding down from the sideboard, shimmying out of the undeniably super-sexy dress she’s wearing. And, without me even asking, because this woman is a professional to the very end, she leaves the boots on, boots that could, in all honesty, harden even the most jaded of cocks. But maybe that’s because that’s all she’s wearing. And now I can see that tattoo I’d only gotten a glimpse of in her profile picture. It’s a rose vine tattoo that stretches from the top of her left thigh, snakes up over her hip and waist and finishes up just under one of her spectacular tits. And they’re real, which is my preference. I’m not a fan of fake tits. But, man, that tattoo! I want this woman so freaking bad I can’t get my fucked-up head around it.

  ‘Your move, Mr Cannon.’

  I grin, quite widely, because I’m having a blast so far. ‘Come here.’

  She saunters over to me, and I watch her every move, every sway of those perfect hips and I know now why she’s so expensive. That body doesn’t come cheap, and I don’t care. She’s worth every cent. I’d pay over six hundred pounds just to look at her tits for five hours.

  I catch her waist and pull her naked body against my still-clothed one, and she submits, like a beautiful rag doll in my arms. ‘I’m gonna make you come so hard you’ll scream this fucking place down,’ I murmur, my mouth resting against hers, and I drink in her tiny moans of pleasure. And they’re real, I know they are. I’ve been around women like this enough times to know when they’re faking it, and when they’re really feeling it. The latter doesn’t happen all that often, but this time it’s real. ‘You got that, baby?’

  She nods, playing the game just the way I like it. I’m not stupid or naïve enough to think I’m really the one in control here. She holds all the power, but she also knows when to let me think I’m leading the way.

  ‘Lie down.’

  I want her on that bed with her legs wide open; I want to see it all. And she knows that, and like a good girl she steps out of my arms and lowers herself onto the bed, stretching her arms up above her head so those freaking tits of hers are pushed right out. I want to come all over those tits, and I will, in time. I’m trying not to rush things here. I want to make the most of every minute we have left together. So I don’t hurry to get naked myself, I take it slow. I know I’ve got a body that women love, I work hard to make it that way. I’m not the only one getting a great view tonight.

  Grabbing a pillow I gently tuck it underneath her hips, raising them slightly to give me much better access. I promised I was gonna make her come hard, and I’m a man who keeps his promises. So I lower my head, place my hands on her knees to keep her legs apart, and dive into her soaking wet heaven.

  She tastes like nothing I’ve ever come across before – soft and sweet and I swear she could become addictive. Her low, deep moans are making her whole body shudder and as I slip my tongue inside her, that shudder turns into a full-blown shiver, and I feel my cock spring back to life. But I’m not finished yet.

  I pull my tongue out and pull back slightly, taking in the sight of her firm pink pussy; her hard, throbbing clit. And she’s completely shaved, which is how I like them.
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  I dive back in for another few seconds, letting my tongue taste a little bit more of her, and I feed off her groans; every gentle buck of her hips spurs me on, because I know she’s feeling it. Really feeling it. But I want to touch her, too. Inside and out. So when I pull back this time, I replace my tongue with my fingers, tentatively sliding two inside her at first. I’m not sure how many she can take at once, and I don’t want to hurt her but, sweet Jesus, she feels good! She’s all tight and wet and I watch as my fingers thrust gently in and out of her. She can take more. I know that. So I slip a third and a fourth in there, too, and she doesn’t complain. She cries out, but it’s a cry of pleasure. She’d tell me if it hurt, and I don’t think I’m doing that, so I carry on, the heel of my hand rubbing her clit as my fingers continue to thrust in and out of her dripping wet pussy until she finally lets go, her release loud and physical as her body jerks almost violently, her cries now ricocheting off the walls. She’s even more beautiful when she comes.

  But it’s my turn again now.

  Round two is about to begin…

  Kira

  I’ve never felt anything like it. I thought it was going to go on forever, a never-ending orgasm, the kind you only read about in erotic romance novels. You never really believe they actually exist. But they do. I’ve just experienced one, courtesy of this man. This insanely handsome, charming man who’s paying for my time.

  The second he pulls his fingers out of me I rip the pillow out from underneath my hips and close my legs. He’s gone to clean up. I heard him go into the bathroom, and I’m glad, because I could do with a few seconds to get my head together.

  I need a drink, but I like to keep as clear a head as I can when I’m working, and even though I could quite easily down that bottle of champagne we brought up with us, I know this is a situation that requires me to stay sober. I need to be sober. I’m already feeling enough crazy shit without too much alcohol adding to it.

  I can’t help smiling, though. My body feels fantastic; like it’s just had the most incredible massage. Great sex – always a winner. Great sex without the hassle of commitment or emotion, even better. And that’s what I’m getting here.

  I raise my arms above my head and stretch out again, letting all those post-orgasm tingles wash right over me, and I don’t do a thing to stop the tiny moans I seem to be involuntarily letting out. I’ve never felt so good!

  ‘Are you OK?’

  I open my eyes and turn onto my side, propping myself up on one elbow, finally taking the time to look at him properly. ‘I’m fine.’

  He’s got the kind of body I haven’t seen on any other man I’ve been with before. I don’t know his exact age, but I’ve been close enough to take a guess at mid to late thirties. Although, he looks good on it. Really good. Just a few faint lines around those come-to-bed-and-fuck-me-hard eyes. It’s the flecks of grey in his stubble that kind of give his age away. He could probably take ten years off if he shaved, but I like the rougher edge. Perfection doesn’t really work for me, but, dear God, this man is sailing pretty close to it. ‘You done, huh?’ I drop my eyes to the towel he’s tied low around his hips. ‘I mean, I’m no clock watcher, but I’d say we’ve got at least four more hours to fill. Unless, of course, you’ve had enough. And that’s allowed. I’d hate to outstay my welcome, but it’s your money…’

  ‘Can we stop talking about money, Kira. Please.’

  His tone is almost verging on upset, and that does the strangest thing to my insides. But I can handle this. It’s my job.

  I get up and go over to him, resting my hand against his cheek, stroking his skin with my thumb. ‘I’m sorry. I forget, sometimes, to lower those barriers and quit with the business talk. You’d think I’d know better. I’ve been doing this for long enough.’

  He catches my hand, his fingers wrapping tight around mine, his eyes looking so deep into me the breath once more catches in my throat, and that isn’t a feeling I’m familiar with. ‘Why is that?’

  I don’t know if he really meant to ask that question out loud, but it’s way too personal, and I think he knows he isn’t going to get an answer. And then he breaks the stare, dropping his gaze, his hand still holding tightly on to mine. And I can tell he knows he almost crossed a line there.

  ‘It’s my turn to be sorry, Kira, I…’ He raises his gaze, his eyes back on mine. ‘That was inappropriate. I know the rules…’

  I stop him talking by kissing him. He tastes of mint and toothpaste, and he has the softest mouth I have ever kissed. ‘Let’s forget the rules, OK?’

  I don’t know what I’m saying, I really don’t. I never play fast and loose with the rules – be it those the agency enforces, or the ones I’ve set myself. It’s dangerous. It leads to trouble. Rules mean order, control; stability. All things I need to enable me to function in my own fucked-up world. And I’m telling a stranger to forget them. A man I’ve known less than a couple of hours. And I mean it. I want him to forget the rules.

  He rests a hand in the small of my back and presses me harder against him, pulling away the towel so we’re both naked. His skin is warm as it touches mine, his body hard, and I find myself closing my eyes as I lay my head against his shoulder. And for a few seconds neither of us moves; nobody says anything. He’s holding me, and it feels so nice to just be held. Both of us know something’s happening here, and yet, I also know that neither of us is going to broach the subject. We’re going to make the most of the next few hours, and then walk away like the two broken people I suspect we are, but while this is happening, I’m living it.

  ‘OK?’ he murmurs into my hair, his hand splaying out in the small of my back, and as he rubs it, it sends a wave of warped, mixed-up excitement flooding through me. I nod, but I don’t know if I am OK. What I’m feeling doesn’t matter, though. I’m at work. This is still a job, no matter what else is happening. He matters. I don’t.

  He kisses the top of my head, and it’s the most gentle, intimate thing that causes a beautiful shiver to course through my body; an unexpected action that I struggle to understand. But I’m not even going to try. Whatever this is, it’s temporary.

  He rubs my back again before gently manoeuvring me around so he has his back to the bed and he sits down, pulling me onto his lap. I straddle him, leaning over to retrieve a fresh condom from the pile he’s left on the bedside table and I kneel up slightly, take his cock in my hand and cover it with the condom before guiding it inside of me. I lower myself back down, riding him slowly at first, sensing he wants something calmer this time. And I’m right. He doesn’t make any move to speed up the action, so I don’t.

  He touches my leg, and I get the message, wrapping them around him as he holds me close, his hand once more in the small of my back, pressing me against him, his fingers tangling in my hair as he kisses me. Untold things are happening to my insides as our tongues touch; as I feel him push deeper into me and I arch my back, pushing my breasts against his chest as the kiss deepens; becomes more urgent. But then he pulls back, slows the pace down again, and the kiss lessens in intensity but it’s still the most sensual kiss I’ve ever experienced; beautiful and real and so fucking sexy.

  And then he stands up, lifting me up with him and my legs grasp his hips tighter. But he’s pulled out of me now, and I feel the most irrational emptiness take over, until he lies me down, and I know we’re not finished yet.

  He takes my hands, raising them up above my head, our fingers sliding together as he lies over me, his breath warm on my face, our eyes locked as he pushes back inside me. My stomach contracts, my heart starts to beat so fast I feel light-headed, and still his eyes are looking deep into mine, penetrating my very soul, and I’m scared. I’m scared of this man; of what he’s doing to me – how he’s making me feel after just a couple of hours. But this is my job. Whatever he wants, whatever he needs, I’m here to provide it. It’s what I do.

  I can’t tear my eyes away from him. I can’t, I don’t want to. He’s fucking me in the most beautifu
l way and I can’t stop looking at him as he’s doing it. And there’s so much heat between us now I swear the sheets could catch fire. Both our bodies are starting to glisten with sweat, and I’m veering from hot to cold and back again with each thrust of his hips against mine.

  I cling tightly on to his hands as I feel myself start to stiffen, those tingles already spreading. I arch my back, pulling my legs up around him, closing my eyes as a wave of white-hot pain sweeps over me, and I cry out loud as he comes, too, and it’s glorious. I’ve never felt anything like it; wave after wave engulfs me, and I don’t think its ever going to end. But it does, of course it does. Our bodies slow down, but our breathing is still fast and heavy and I don’t want to open my eyes just yet. I don’t want to look at him, because he’s confusing me now. And I’m still so fucking scared.

  ‘Kira?’

  His mouth is so close to my ear, his fingers still holding tightly on to mine, and I realise he’s still inside me. And I want him to stay there.

  ‘You OK, baby?’

  My stomach jolts again as he whispers those words. No client has ever really asked me if I’m OK after sex. Not even Jason, and he’s the most considerate client I’ve ever had. And all that does is confuse me even more.

  He pulls out of me, and once more that irrational feeling of emptiness fills me. I hate it. It shouldn’t be happening, but I can’t stop it.

  I finally open my eyes and turn onto my side so I’m facing him. He really does have the most beautiful eyes, and right now they’re kind and concerned, and full of something I can’t quite read.

  ‘I should go grab a shower,’ I say, trailing a finger down over his chest. His body’s as beautiful as his eyes. He’s so close to perfect it’s terrifying.