Provocative Professions

by S. E. Hall

  I don't miss the hard set in Vaughn's jaw. "Not safe," he practically grunts. "I'll stay with you."

  Magic Mouth said what?

  He can read my face or mind, 'cause his unfairly enticing eyes alight with traces of smug victory and his shoulders bounce. "You heard me."

  "I'll just, uh, go do my count." Harlow excuses herself amidst the growing tension, snagging her drawer and sneaking off.

  "I must not've heard you right," I snip, one hand on my hip, drumming my fingers, "'cause I damn sure don't need a babysitter. What the hell are you doing here, anyway? You never answered me before. Surely you don't like hanging out at the truck stop when you don't have a haul?"

  He uses this time to exit our work area and round to stand in front of me at the counter. Also known as buying time to conjure up a reasonable excuse or snazzy remark.

  No way am I giving it to him. "Oh, Vaughn," I let the condescension ooze and taper the coy grin, "you do, don't you? That's so sad. Have you tried Match.com? How about Tinder? Those girls are younger, easier prey." Now he gets a smile, and one so sweet my cheeks hurt.

  "Boy, you're on one today." He shakes his head. "You need me to suck on that sweet pussy real quick and set you right again?"

  "I'll pass. I need you to tell me what you're doing here. 'Cause it seems like you came to see me on one of your few nights off, rather than finding some hooch at a bar, watching a game on TV, or sleeping?"

  He doesn't say a word, only crosses his arms at his chest, one hand lifting to rub contemplatively along his jaw as he cocks his head to one side, narrowing those denim eyes at me.

  "Vaughn," I sigh, diverting my gaze, "I don't need or want anything serious, nothing like a relationship. Alright?"

  "Don't remember asking for one, but nice ego you got there."

  Something—no, not the fact that his voice matches the tempting truth that he's so damn gorgeous your kegels do themselves for you the minute he walks in—something else in this new, edgy tone of his tells me Vaughn's always been the one to issue the "it's not you, it's me" speeches, and he does not like being on the receiving end.

  He's hot, orally astounding, almost faster than me with the clever zingers, and seemingly a good guy—all the qualities I'd want in my next victim. But that's exactly what he'd be, and not only am I out of energy for another round of the bloodbath that is me trying to actually date, but I'm pretty sure… Sigh. He doesn't deserve such torture.

  "I came to grab a shower. Our hot water heater's busted," he gripes when I take too long to say anything.

  "Oh, okay then." I duck my head, plotting how to get my own dumb, assuming foot out of my mouth as I fumble with the shower cards. Checking for a towel and finding none, I curse under my breath. "Here." I hand him a number, which he rips away. "You can head on back. I'll find a towel and hang it over the side."

  "Yup," he clips out and stalks away.

  Well that went swimmingly. In shark infested waters with a gaping, bleeding mess of a wound. Can't a broody bitch get a break anymore?

  "Harlow," I stick my head in the back room, "can you listen for the front? I gotta go dig up some towels."

  "Sure." She nods, then huffs and lets out a distressed exhale. "Lost my place, gotta start over. Go, go!" I'm shooed, containing my snicker…she was on the pennies. Thank God she's pretty.

  After changing out the loads and folding a few, I grab the pile of towels and head toward the shower stalls. I can hardly wait to go home to no hot water myself—the dread putting me off guard long enough for one strong, determined hand to shoot out around the corner and snare me by the arm.

  "Wh—" I start to shriek, stopped by two hands, now not dragging me but instead carrying me to stall twelve, one covering my mouth.

  "Don't scare Harlow. She's obviously fragile today," he croons in humor against my ear before removing his hand from my mouth and running it down to rest on my hip as he sets me back on my feet.

  "Vaughn, I told you." I emit a heavy sigh, attempting to shift and put some space between his massive, hard body and my own. It's no use, since he's using that same physique to pin me up against the tiled wall. "The other morning, whatever…it was great, but that's it. I can't—"

  "Hey, Pistol," he tilts my chin with one fingertip, "I agree. It was great, fanfuckingtastic. Which is why I want more. Of that, nothing else. And," he leans in and kisses me quickly, "you better reign in that frown and doubt in your voice. You're sounding all relationship-like." He gives me a saucy "got ya" wink, and then it's on.

  Desperate hands and lips are all I feel as my clothes are yanked off in a blur and the hot water sluices over us. I cling to his soaked body, ready to climb and mount it, taking what we both want.

  Instead, he grips my shoulders, pulls away, and steadies us both. His eyes hold mine, glittering in satisfaction, and my nerves tighten with impatience.

  "Gonna make me beg or you changing your mind?" I joke, swiping my drenched hair out of my face.

  His lips curl in sinister sex appeal. "Just wondering how you look on your knees."

  He doesn't need to say more, I want to taste him as much as I want to fuck him. Maybe it's about needing to hear him call out my name, see him lost in the gratification I can give. He's not the only one with a talented mouth.

  He may have set the bar high, but I do love some healthy competition.

  I twist my hair back and push it off the side of my shoulder, then, with my eyes on his, lower myself down to the cold tile floor. God knows what I could catch on the grimy surface. An entire list of diseases should be flipping through my mind, but the only thing consuming my thoughts is that powerful cock inches from my lips.

  I grab the base of his massive erection and wait for his command. I know he wants to give one and he doesn't disappoint.

  "Lick it."

  And I do, running my tongue up the smooth shaft then back down. My tongue tingles and my pussy clenches in awe when he orders, "Open for me."

  I obey, but this time I'm taking control. I dip my head down, sucking him in 'til the crown of his dick thumps the back of my throat. Inhaling through my nose, I bask in his potent groan as I slide back up. Again and again I tease, his hands fisting in my hair, allowing me to lead.

  The more pleasure I give, the more utter satisfaction I'm rewarded, surging through and filling me with something rare and euphoric. His erotic moans are even sexier than I'd fantasized—animalistic, throaty, and masculine. I pick up speed and wait for his release. His thighs tense beneath my grip, but he surprises me, jerking back and tugging me up.

  I'm twirled around, my front pressed against the shower wall as his hands stroke over my ass then slip down to my thighs, pushing apart my legs.

  "You ready for me, Paige?" he husks in my ear, nipping at the back of my neck.

  I nod, unable to form a lucid thought, let alone words.

  "Say it," he demands, voice coarse.

  "Yes, fuck me, Vaughn. Please, fuck me!"

  His fingers spread me open and I slam my eyes shut, waiting for him to work his cock inside, but instead he impales me fully with one powerful thrust, filling all of me exquisitely. Our bodies mold as one, made to fit effortlessly.

  I shudder and cry out, frantic and needy for more, but he starts slow. Too slow. I push off from the wall and rest my slick back against his front. He presses me closer, his left hand slinking down to find my clit, gently coaxing it while the other hand grasps my chin and pivots my head back just enough to crash his mouth onto mine.

  His easy pace quickens at the familiar voice making its way toward us.

  "Paige? I said I'm leaving."

  Harlow! Shit, are we never allowed a moment of privacy? Although I'm at work and on the clock, so privacy's probably an unrealistic expectation. That or we're so hot together, everyone wants a peek.

  "Faster," I whimper, planting my palms flat against the smooth tile and tilting my ass up and back to him.

  "Paige?" Harlow's voice is closer now.

  "I'm not fuc
king stopping till I'm done," Vaughn murmurs low in my ear.

  "Good," I barely get out, "don't."

  I feel his smile in the kiss he presses to my shoulder. "You're gonna want to hold on for this" is all I hear before the steady rhythm grows wild and crazed, him pounding into me at an unnatural and completely savage speed. I push back in tandem, rising up to my tiptoes, begging him to impossible depths.

  "I'm gonna…" My head falls on his shoulder as my body tightens, a tingle of impending bliss rolling up in my legs. I release in a blinding explosion just as he pulls out and backs away.

  "Fuck, I knew it," Vaughn says from somewhere behind me.

  Catching my breath, I turn, my entire body flushed and boneless. "Knew what?"

  He's all beaming grin now, moistening his lips as his eyes rake down the length of me. "How incredible you'd feel."

  "Paige!" Harlow shouts, almost hysterical.

  "Damn it!" I hiss, snatching up my shed clothing, now drenched from the floor. "Hang on!" I call out, hurrying into my soaked outfit, not caring if she figures out exactly what or who I was just doing. "I'm coming!"

  Vaughn leans in, smile bright and whispers. "You already did, babe."

  Somehow we end up walking back out front with his arm around my waist, me tucked against his side. It's not the worst place to be, that is until a nasally feminine whine interrupts my post-rendezvous fog.

  "Oh, thank God, Vaughn, tell her," screeches some try-hard hooch standing at the counter, pointing at Harlow, who's near tears. "Tell her to give me some cash or I'll have her fired!"

  Unsure what I'm walking into, I peel away from Vaughn's embrace and move behind the counter. It's supposed to be me at the register right now, bearing the less than scary wrath of this white trash Wilma, so I nudge Harlow to stand behind me.

  "Hi, I'm Paige, what's the problem here?"

  "Paige," the bitch foams from the mouth in a "have another unfiltered Camel" tenor, "I'm Suzanne." She draws it out haughtily, like I should recognize her…or give a damn. "Joe's girlfriend. I want some petty cash. I need things."

  She absolutely does—a teeth whitening, full chemical peel, and a whole lot of sleep. Pretty much one big do over.

  "Suzanne, how about you come back tomorrow, when Joe's here," Vaughn suggests, trying to reason with her.

  She throws him a look, one I can't decipher because it's gone as quickly as it appeared. "No, I'm here now. You know I can't sleep at night." Her words are more insinuating than rude. "I just need a little." She turns back to me, waiting with her hand out.

  "All right. May I please see your gun?" I tug on a sardonic smile just for her, ignoring the laugh Vaughn coughs to cover and Harlow's gasp behind me.

  Suzanne's brows pinch in a scowl and she props tight fists on her hips. "My what?"

  "Gun. A device used to fire bullets, most often made from metal." To help, I demonstrate a pistol with my thumb and finger and add a cutesy "bang bang."

  I watch as confusion morphs to anger across her aged face. The woman's gotta be pushing forty, her attempts to hide it an epic failure. Her expression darkens to pissed off when the realization that I'm toying with her finally sets in. "What?" she shrieks.

  Seriously, that's all she's got? Her stupid's sucking all the fun out of this. Selfish.

  "Your. Gun. 'Cause unless you're robbing the joint, you're not getting a dime out of my drawer," I sneer. "I don't give a shit who you're fucking." I fold my arms over my chest, which is thumping fast with adrenaline, and wait for her comeback, which I'm sure will be uncanny.

  "Wh-wha—" She's seething, speechless, and turns to Vaughn. "Tell her, Vaughn!" She pouts, walking toward him and sliding one finger down his chest.

  With that single move, my sneaking suspicion is confirmed; he's fucked her. Which worries me, because if his dick rots off, I'll miss it.

  Vaughn's eyes shoot to mine, a hint of shame unhidden in them. "Joe wouldn't care if you hooked her up."

  Not fucking happening!

  "One," I hold up a finger, "don't ever say you—as in me—hooking up, and that," I turn the finger to point to her, "in the same sentence again. Two, if she needs money, there's a perfectly good parking lot out back. It'd be a shame to waste that outfit she thinks is working. Everybody wins!" I flash some jazz hands.

  His slate eyes shine and the corner of his mouth gradually curves into a devilish grin. "Suzanne," he says, stare on me never diverting, "not gonna happen. Call Joe or something, but you've got your answer."

  Her head snaps back my way, not hard enough to break her neck unfortunately, but so abruptly that the average spectator might be concerned. A malicious glare matches her pursed lips. "You'll regret this."

  "Doubt it," I reply, hearing Harlow slip away to the office.

  "Walk me out, baby?" This she purrs at Vaughn, rubbing up the front of him as he inches away.

  He doesn't answer her, gaze still locked on mine. "I can stay, hang out." He's asking me, pupils flaring in search of a rescue. Also not fucking happening.

  "Nope." I pop my shoulders and up the wattage of my syrupy smile. "We're good here. Have a super night, though! Harlow, you all cashed out?" I call toward the office.

  The rapid deflation on his face would be comical if I didn't, way deep down, feel a little sorry for him. But it was him that once told me some things stick… Have fun with that, buddy.

  Chapter 7

  "I think you're supposed to separate the whites." His ravenous greeting echoes in my ears, scorching through me as thick arms wrap around my waist from behind.

  "I think your dick's mad you know that." I jest, standing in the tiny laundry room in the apartment's basement. "Did you bake me a quiche too?"

  Vaughn chuckles and spins me abruptly to face him. "Your smart mouth does fascinate me, but you can drop the act. I've felt your sweet pussy clamp down on my cock when you come, remember? You have no questions about my sexuality. And you don't have to goad me into fucking you again, Paige. I'm more than open to an encore." He winks and lifts me onto the dryer.

  "Yeah, well, I'm closed for chlamydia. I'd rather not catch what Suzanne's serving." I quirk a brow, daring him to deny it, all the while cursing the female half of my brain for speaking.

  "Jealous?" His grin splits wider, arrogant at the possibility. Saw that coming, thus the cursing myself.

  I scoff. "No, more like disgusted."

  "Long time ago." He pushes my thighs apart and pulls me forward to the edge, perfectly aligning my traitorous, eager center with the obvious bulge in his jeans. "Hit it once, I was covered, and yours is way better. Which is why…"

  Dammit. I should at least flinch when he drags my shirt off over my head to make my charade believable.

  "I'm gonna fuck it again, right now."

  "Ya think so, huh?" Heavy breathing exposes me as he reaches behind me and turns on the dryer, the vibrations barely stronger than I was already feeling.

  "Oh, I know so." He reaches up and pulls his own tight gray t-shirt over his head with one yank. "Want your tits out." He nods to my bra and flicks open the button on his fly. "Off with it."

  My hands, obedient to his deep, feral commands as though I have no input, do as he says and my bra falls forward, the introduction of cool air piercing my nipples even harder.

  "These are better too," he growls, molding both breasts into his rough hands.

  "Enough with the comparisons, I get it," I rasp out, my head falling back. "Did you lock the door?"

  "Nope," he says without any concern, bending in to glide his hot mouth and tongue down my offered neck, hands kneading my breasts mercilessly. "Lift that ass."

  I do and he's quick to relieve me of the bottom half of my wardrobe.

  "Mmm hmm, dripping for me." A low, pleased hum rises from his chest. His eyes take in my exposed, aroused state while he retrieves a condom and hands it to me. "Do your thing, babe."

  Too far gone to feign coy any longer, I grab a belt loop and pull him forward, then push his jeans and blac
k boxer briefs down over his trim hips. Licking my lips, I focus all my attention on rolling the rubber over his ample, almost painful looking, erection. We groan together when he's fully covered and I reach down to fondle his balls.

  Anxious, I fidget, curving a hand around his neck and pulling him in for a rowdy and somewhat sloppy kiss. He laughs into my mouth but gives back just how I need it. I tense, feeling him line up the head of his cock with my restless core.

  "Yes," I breathe.

  I want it hard and fast, and he knows it, which is why instead I merely get the taunting tip as he leans back to look at me, then down, where we don't quite join, and up again with a smirk.

  "You need something?" The provocative spur slides off his tongue.

  My eyebrows fold in and I bite my bottom lip, not about to let him win, so I simply shrug.

  He laughs, not the sound you want to hear when a guy's dick is flirting at your pussy, but on him it sounds…sexy, fun, enticing. "Answer me."

  "Fuck me before we get caught," I snarl, scooting to take more of him in, but he stops me with a hand on the inside of my thigh.

  "Try again. I wanna hear it."

  If he wasn't the hardest, hottest, most reciprocating lay I've ever had, I'd spit in his face…or threaten to put a bullet in him. But he's so damn good and I'll have time to chastise myself after I come multiple times.

  I crook my finger, inviting him closer, and whisper in his ear. "Do your thing, Vaughn. Fuck me real good, like I want it."

  I cry out as he drives inside me with a feverish howl and bites down on my shoulder, hands shoving under my ass to grip tight, pushing and pulling me along his dick. "Love breaking you," he heaves, "love fucking your tight little cunt, love hearing you beg for it. Stubborn ass, you'll do anything for my dick, won't you?"

  Deeper, harder, faster. He sinks in and out of me manically, incensed, and I hold on tight, taking it all, feeling my orgasm start to build.

  "Wider," he grunts. "Spread those legs for me, baby."

  I surrender fully, back arching, palms flat on the dryer, thighs as far apart as they'll go. "Vaughn, rub it, wanna come." My plea echoes off the ceiling, my face lifted its direction. "Touch it, please, fuck."