by Alex Lucian
“That’s an excellent way to view me, because before this night over, I will have devoured you fucking whole.” Still pressed up against her like I was, I bent my knees and rolled my hips up against her, letting her feel how mother fucking hard I was inside my jeans. My dick felt like a steel pipe, and I was more than gratified when she let out a breathy exhale against the side of my face. “But before I get you out of that dress, you better tell me if there’s anything I’m not allowed to do.”
Ruby palmed my dick through my jeans and rubbed, ripping a groan from my throat. “How about you show me what I get to play with tonight first?”
I pulled back and met her eyes before yanking my sweater off with one hand. She licked her lips when I tossed it away, her gaze tripping over my chest and stomach. Maybe she was just that good, maybe she reached out and traced the tip of one finger down all her clients’ happy trails, humming appreciatively.
I’m sure every man who paid a professional wanted to feel like they were different, that they got a side of her no one else got. But I wasn’t a fucking moron, and I also knew that Ruby was making seven hundred dollars off of me for two hours, so she’d have to be good. So even though my skin tightened at her lazy perusal and her easy touch of my skin, I wasn’t dumb enough to think that she didn’t make every guy feel that way.
Her long, graceful fingers pulled my belt, unhooking it from the loops with efficiency. Ruby licked her plump, porn-star lips and looked up at me from underneath her long, dark lashes while she pulled down my zipper.
“Pull your dress down,” I ordered. “I need to see if they’re as good as they look on your website.”
It was the first picture of her that I’d seen, and it’d caught my eye immediately. Though her face was cropped out of that particular shot, she was wearing a man’s shirt that was unbuttoned, teasing at the edges of her nipples so that all you could see of her skin was the perfect line of her stomach and the generous curves of her breasts, which were almost too big for her lithe, small-boned frame. Instead of listening right away, Ruby snaked her hand into my opened pants and wrapped her fingers around the base of my dick with a surprisingly firm grip. “They are.”
I smirked, trying not to come in her hand like a fucking high-schooler. “I like your honesty.”
Instead of acknowledging my compliment, she gave a slow twist of her hand before letting go. “Go sit on the bed.”
“Am I not the one in charge?” I let one finger drift down the deep V of her dress, but she stepped back before I could trace the curve of her breast.
“Of course,” she said easily, but lifted her chin at the bed anyway. “I just want you to have a better view of what you paid for.”
I narrowed my eyes, waffled with the idea of just yanking up her dress, pushing down my jeans and taking her up against the wall so she knew who was calling the shots. But she had a spark in her dark eyes that hardened me further, and I imagined her putting on a show for me. So I did as she asked, walking back into the perfectly appointed room, shucking off my jeans before I sat on the edge of the bed.
Ruby eyed my dick appreciatively, as she should, considering all nine inches were aimed straight up between my legs at the current moment. It was why I preferred to keep my sexual experiences to professionals. Their healthy appreciation for sex, their careful approach to who they took on, and the absolute desire for no connections after I walked out the door was what I loved about them.
With slow, swinging steps, Ruby came to stand in front of me. She turned slightly to the side to reach the zipper of her dress, and it made the long, thick braid of her hair fall over her shoulder again. I clenched my hands on the tops of my legs, wanting very badly to fist it in my hand while I took her from behind. I smiled, knowing that was exactly where I wanted to start with her. Holding her slight hips in my big hands, seeing her on her hands and knees in front of me.
Her dress loosened on her frame and she held my eyes the entire time she pushed it down her body. Every inch of skin she uncovered made my mouth go dry. I’d been with dozens of beautiful women. Some blonde, some brunette, some with big tits, and some with small, perfect handfuls.
Ruby, naked in front of me with only her stilettos and the neatly trimmed landing strip over her pussy, was the most fucking stunning creature I’d ever seen in my life. Her tits were far, far better in person than the pictures I’d seen. Heavy and full with dark pink nipples. All of her was lean and taut, except for those. And I knew, with perfect forethought, that one night would not be enough.
Suddenly, I didn’t want her on her hands and knees, hiding the front of her from me. I clenched my jaw and crooked a finger at her. “Come here.”
Her arms were loose at her sides while she walked the remaining distance to me. I lifted my hands to frame her waist. She pushed her fingers through my hair, and I fought not to shiver.
“Now that I’m here,” she said from where she stood in between my legs, “what are you going to do with me?”
Her belly button was just below eye level to me, and I stared at the small oval indentation in her smooth, flat stomach. I pressed two fingers against it and drew a straight line down until I hit the coarse, short hairs of her landing strip. Ruby widened her legs and balanced one hand on my shoulder. I turned my fingers over and pushed through her slit.
“I guess you do like it wet,” I said, glancing up at her. The color in her cheeks was high, which made me happy. Her soaked pussy did too, so I pushed both fingers in while I held her eyes. Leaving them in, I stood so that I could tower over her. She was tall, especially in her heels, so I didn’t have to crouch to move my fingers in and out of her. The way she stared up at me, one hand still on my shoulder and the other wrapped around my bicep, whipped up a firestorm in my belly. There was a spark of challenge in her eyes.
She was daring me. To do what, I wasn’t quite sure. So I turned us, only pulling my fingers out to push her back on the bed. The mattress and bedframe were tall enough that I only had to bend my knees slightly if I wanted to feed the head of my cock inside of her.
“Condoms are in my bag next to the bed,” she whispered. I nodded, leaning down to grab one. I held the edge of the wrapper in my mouth and tore it open with my teeth, which made her smile.
“That’s funny?”
“No,” she said, still smirking up at me, pulling her hands up to cup her breasts. “I just knew you’d do that.”
“You’ve got me all figured out, huh?”
She blinked and I rolled the condom down, pinching the top while I did. “No. But I don’t need to.”
I had a fleeting thought to lean over her and take her mouth, but I held back. It felt too intimate, too soon. Ruby wasn’t a giggly, fawning escort. And trust me, I’d had that kind. Kissing them had felt appropriate, expected even. But not with her. She held the power, even though I was the paying customer. And the unexpected challenge of that, of wanting to fuck her hoarse, feel her clench around me in undeniable pleasure, flooded my veins.
Ruby pulled her knees up like she expected me to crawl over her body, but I stayed standing. Holding her eyes, I braced my clenched fists on either side of her waist and leaned down to suck her right tit into my mouth in one hard pull. She arched her back up on a gasp when I scraped the nipple with my teeth as I let it go. My tongue traced the space of skin over to the left one, and I laved the flat of my tongue up over the curve, groaning at the musky taste of her skin. As I straightened, I thumbed tiny circles over her hardened nipple, watching a slight flush spread over her chest.
With firm hands, I gripped both of her calves and propped her feet up on my shoulders before fisting my cock and bending my knees enough that I could fit the head into her pussy. Ruby held her breath when I did, hissing out a breath when I slowly fed her every inch until I rested against her.
“So full,” she moaned while I stayed like that and attempted to regulate my breathing.
“Yeah?”
She nodded slightly, tightening around me with a wick
ed grin on her lips. “Yeah.”
“Good.” Then I pulled back and slammed into her. “Fuck,” I said on a roar when I did it again.
Ruby fisted the comforter while I hammered into her, each hard thrust punctuated by a delicious bounce of her tits. I snapped my hips, hooking up at the end with each movement and she arched her back on a gasp.
“Oh, right there,” she moaned. Her eyes were shut, so I couldn’t tell if she meant it, or if it was just something she said. It might have pissed me off, if she didn’t feel so fucking good around me while I slid in and out. I was holding her thighs so tightly against me that I worried I’d bruise her. But I didn’t let go, my chest heaving like a freight train was roaring through my veins while I fucked her.
I let go of her leg so I could thumb her clit and she tightened again, one rolling pulse that almost took my breath. So I made tight circles and her gasps deepened. Heat pulled at my lower back and I fought to keep the orgasm at bay.
“Come on, Ruby, let me feel that cunt around me.”
“Oh god,” she moaned, turning her head to the side when I picked up my speed.
“Come on,” I said again, feeling the tingle of my impending release gather up my spine.
I moved my thumb at just the right time with my thrust and she fisted around me, her mouth falling open while she did. With a roar, I came, flooding the condom. I slowed my thrusts while I milked both of our orgasms. Ruby tilted her chin up, hiding her eyes from me while she came down.
When I had my breath again, I gently lowered her legs and fell into the bed next to her. She smiled over at me.
“Good?” I asked her, tracing a small circle around her nipple.
“What do you think?” she said dryly.
“I think that in about thirty minutes, I’m going to need you to ride my dick.” I smiled when she snorted. “That was fucking phenomenal.”
I almost said worth every penny, but as I wasn’t a jackass, I held my tongue.
But fucking hell, she was. And before my time was up, I’d feel her again and again, until neither of us could walk, if I had anything to do with it.
Chapter Three
When he came out of the bathroom, I knew he’d left the donation on the counter. He walked to the mini bar on the other side of the room and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He held it up for me, one dark eyebrow arched in question.
“No, thank you,” I said, climbing off of the bed and picking up my dress. When I lifted my head, his eyes were on my body. I glanced sideways at the bed, thinking of the last couple hours we’d spent rolling along the expensive sheets. It’d been the most fun I’d had doing this, mostly because Elias was something else—this man who emanated power and strength. He could flip me from my front to my back with the flick of his hand, leaving me breathless and bouncing throughout.
I gave him a small smile as I stepped into the bathroom to freshen up and collect the envelope of cash. I wish I could say I felt disgusted with myself every time I did this, taking money from a man who had taken over my body, but I felt very little. I tucked the stack of hundreds into a pocket in my clutch and stepped into my clothes.
Then I ran through my head everything I needed to do still, which included an all-nighter studying. Which was part of the reason I had turned down Elias’ offer of a drink; I couldn’t study for my Comparative Theology final with a head clouded by whiskey.
I rolled my neck, feeling only a twinge of regret for agreeing to this ‘date’ with Elias tonight. Being that it was the week before finals, I hadn’t planned on seeing any clients. But my manager, Lenore, had forwarded me Elias’ information along with a “he’s very eager to meet you and will pay extra if need be” note. In truth, it wasn’t the money that made me agree to come along tonight—it was the fact that someone was eager enough to meet me to offer extra.
I wasn’t knocking myself—I knew I was, by New York City standards, very attractive. But I’d been handed so many clients that had been turned away from others, the busier girls Lenore managed, that I didn’t have anyone dying to meet me. With my dark hair and looks, I didn’t fit the “market ideal” as Lenore often told me with her sympathetic smile. I didn’t care, regardless. I had a steady enough stream of clients to float me through grad school so that I didn’t need to sling burgers or fetch hundreds of coffees for impatient bosses.
Not that what I was doing was any better, especially not by any moral standards. But I didn’t have any moral conflict about having sex for money, even when it was wrapped in pretty words like “escort” and “donation.” I wasn’t trying to justify the fact that I spread my legs for men with enough money to compensate me for a tumble in the sheets.
I peeked at my cell phone and tapped out a message to Lenore, All is well.
It was our code. Lenore may have been a little detached, but she took care of her girls. All is well meant that there were no problems. Anything else meant trouble. Luckily, I’d never needed to text Lenore anything other than “All is well,” but I knew several other of her girls had found themselves in tricky situations. Even an “I’m great!” signaled Lenore to rally her henchmen. It was a bit dramatic to call Dave and Taylor henchmen, but that’s essentially what they were. Lenore vetted every client before they came to us, but that didn’t mean someone couldn’t flip on a dime. Having Dave or Taylor within a couple minutes from us provided safety and security.
I faced my reflection in the mirror and brushed my teeth. I always left appointments as fresh as I came in, which was why I reapplied my lipstick and powdered my nose in the mirror. My hair, however, was much messier than when I’d arrived. I huffed as I tried to tuck the strands back in my braid, but it was useless; my braid looked exactly as you’d expect it would after someone—Elias—had tugged, yanked, scrunched, and pulled on it. He was forgiven for it, too, considering that he knew precisely what to do with the finer parts of his anatomy.
Unfortunately, not all clients did. Men like him were a treat in my line of work.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, Elias was standing by the window overlooking the skyline. He’d sprung for a nice room, which I was grateful for. Some guys didn’t try to impress, not that I blamed them. I was a product they test drove, so a nice room wasn’t something necessary in their eyes especially after they spent so much on the ‘donation.’
When I’d texted Lenore, I still had about thirty minutes left on the clock with Elias. I wasn’t in a hurry to leave, despite the studying I had to do tonight. And besides that, I was looking for a steady client to carry me through the summer, when I was finally on break from classes. So I pushed a smile on my face and walked to stand next to him.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asked in that low, gravelly voice.
“Water is fine,” I said, giving him a grateful smile when he handed me a cold bottle from the mini fridge. “So, Elias,” I began, before taking a sip of the water and licking a stray droplet from my lips. I watched as his eyes trained on my bottom lip. “What do you do?” His clothes said money, but he had the kind of aura of a man who could live off the land, in some dark cabin in the woods.
He smiled slightly and looked down, his wispy black lashes sweeping his skin. “I’m a photojournalist.”
“Oh, that sounds interesting.” It surprised me. I didn’t peg him as some Wall Street elephant hunter, someone who spent time looking for the next big shtick. But the fact that he was a photojournalist gave me pause. It was a more creative field than the men I usually dealt with, so I sized him up with that in mind. “Do you do much traveling?”
“Often.” His tongue lashed over his bottom lip and I suddenly, strangely, felt unsatisfied. Those few hours in the bed hadn’t been enough. “I seem to be in the air more than I’m on the ground.”
Wistfully, I said, “That must be exhausting.” But I didn’t quite mean it. I’d been holed up inside of libraries and my dorm and then my apartment for so many years that I hadn’t explored the world the way I wanted. I studied Himalayan Budd
hism from the inside of a textbook, but what I really wanted to was take the hike all the way up to the Tiger’s Nest in Bhutan, a temple built into the side of a cliff.
“And you?” He raised that eyebrow again, and that slight movement, that black eyebrow raised, made me want him again, in a way that didn’t define us as an escort and client.
“I’m an escort, of course,” I said with a curve of my lips that didn’t quite meet my eyes.
“That’s not all, though. You seem very intelligent.” He brought his drink to his lips and the ice cubes inside clinked. “You’re professional.” He took a sip, never taking his eyes off me. “Why does a beautiful young woman do this?”
If I was anyone else, I might’ve bristled under his gentle, but still intrusive, questioning. But I didn’t feel shame for what I did, or who I was, so I debated telling him. I knew my bio on my website wasn’t specific, except to say I was an educated young woman. “Currently, I’m getting my master’s in theological studies. I already have a master’s in sociology.”
“Ah.” He smiled, as if this news was somehow pleasing to him. “And a bachelor’s in?”
“Religious studies.” I kept my voice even. I very rarely delved into this side of my life with a client, not because I was purposely private about it, but because clients rarely asked.
He laughed shortly. “Religion.” He broke his concentration on me to look out the window. “The socially acceptable form of insanity.” His tone was brittle, and I didn’t miss the way his fingers on his glass clenched a little tighter.
“If that’s what you believe,” I said calmly. “I believe in syncretism, that there are practices from various religions and belief systems that combine easily.” I sipped my water. “I think many people do too, actually, which is what fascinates me the most.”
