“A wrap-around.” Damien moved closer. “How utterly seductive of you, Molly Jones.” Reaching out, he took the tie from her nerveless fingers and tugged her closer. “Rather like unwrapping a present. I do like unwrapping presents.” Flicking the tie open, he kept her gaze locked with his while the dress slipped to lay loose around her.
Moving even closer until his body was a mere hairbreadth from hers, the heat of him seeping deliciously into her, Damien slid his hands inside the dress to rest upon – her hips! Her big, enormous, overly-curved hips!
Cherry almost died then and there, but before she could even think to back out of every plan she had, he tugged her full against him, lowering his head and capturing her mouth once more.
He kissed her almost senseless, plundering her mouth like a starving man at a feast. He took her mouth while his hands moved over her body, and she dimly felt the dress pushed off her shoulders, the coolness of the room on her bare back, and then suddenly her bra was gone, the lacy DD cups falling to the floor, her breasts against his chest, skin to skin.
Naked skin to skin. Hot skin to match the hot blood that was starting to rush through her veins so much faster.
Hot lips were on her throat, hard palms skimming over her back into the indent of her waist to slide beneath the silk of her panties, knowing palms cupping her derriere, squeezing the generous globes. He eased the material over her hips and dropped them down her legs to pool around her ankles.
One large palm on her buttocks pressed her close, his mouth taking hers again and again, slanting across her lips to take total control of the kiss, just as he’d taken control of the situation since he’d entered the room.
Cherry didn’t know if this was how it was supposed to happen with an escort, but she was happy to just go with it. It wasn’t like she had much choice. Her thoughts were scattered, her heart pounding, and heat was pooling between her thighs, not to mention the delicious ache.
Twining her arms around his neck, she pressed closer, giving him kiss for kiss, hot and loving.
Everything was hot - her blood, his hands, his skin, this moment. This time that was hers. She stepped out of her high heeled pumps.
Turning her, he crowded her backwards until her thighs hit the side of the bed. Keeping her lips prisoner with his, he kept leaning down and down, until she finally sat on the bed. Only then did he release her lips, his eyes glittering in the dimness. “Lie down, Molly Jones.”
If she’d been a heroine from the Victorian times, she’d have swooned. Instead, Cherry could only slide back on the bed and recline against the pillows, watching avidly as Damien straightened, his hands sliding the belt from his pants, his deft fingers unbuttoning and unzipping with expert efficiency, and he pushed those slacks down those long, muscular legs and off, taking his shoes and socks with them at the same time. Taking a wallet from his pocket, he opened it up, took a small packet from it, and placed the packet on the bedside table before replacing the wallet in his pocket.
Thank God he’d had the sense to remember condoms. She’d brought a medley of sizes in her handbag just in case – how did one measure a non-existent penis anyway? - but Damien obviously had everything worked out to the letter T. A professional through and through, no doubt about it.
When he straightened she nearly swallowed her tongue. The light from the bathroom not only picked out his tall, strong body with the hard planes, but it glanced off the impressive erection that curved up to lie against his stomach.
That erection looked suddenly enormous. She’d seen the shrivelled insides of a real woman’s vagina in a museum, and that suddenly appeared pretty damned small and short in her mind. She wasn’t so sure this erection was going to fit inside her. It gave the term ‘tonsil-tickler’ a whole new meaning. But women everywhere went through this and weren’t torn apart. Hell, what was she, a Victorian virgin? Scratch that, virgin yes, but not an innocent who didn’t have a clue about the human anatomy. Woman was made for man… it was just…damn, he was big.
Her gaze flicked up to find him standing beside the bed gazing down at her. She couldn’t see his expression as he studied her, but she felt his gaze like a hot brand sweeping her overly-generous curves. It was almost enough to dampen her ardour, and she immediately sought to cover what she could, bending the leg closest to him instinctively, her arm coming across to hide her ample breasts from view.
“No.” The word was husky, a hint of a rasp in it. “Don’t cover yourself.”
Self-consciously she started to sit, but he planted his knee on the bed and came up, crawling across it sinuously like a giant cat stalking prey, his eyes feasting on her curves.
Unnerved, she stilled, her heart thumping as he reached out to place one hand on her knee, taking her wrist in his other hand to pull her arm away from her breasts. Moving to kneel upright beside her, he placed her wrist to the side, resting her hand palm-up on the bed.
And then he just looked his fill of her. It was small comfort to know he couldn’t see all her faults, but knowing he was looking at her basic shape made Cherry cringed inwardly. To have a specimen such as him look at someone like her before intimacy between them seemed somehow wrong.
Glancing away, she bit her lip, only to swing her disbelieving gaze back to his face when he murmured throatily, “Beautiful.” That warm palm slid down her thigh slowly. “Womanly. Soft. Rubenesque. The way a woman should be.” His voice was husky, and she could swear desire smoked through the deep tones.
There was no doubting the heat that pooled so low inside her as his hand slid further down her thigh. Bloody hell, Damien was one gifted lover, making her feel special. Beautiful. This was a time she was going to treasure forever.
Her heart thudded harder, nipples peaking as his fingers trailed lazily down the inside of her thigh while his gaze rose to her eyes. “How do you like a man, Molly Jones?”
Suddenly she wished he would call her Cherry, but it was too risky. Molly Jones she was at this moment, beautiful and seductive, and about to be filled with this specimen of hunk-hood. She swore she was going to kiss Susie every day for a long time after this night.
“How do you like to be loved?” he continued throatily. “Hard? Fast? Slow?” His fingers brushed the curls protecting her secrets and her breath caught. “Tell me how you like it, Molly Jones.”
That was the million dollar question because she really had no freaking idea. He was the expert here, not her. Maybe he thought she masturbated like a demented bunny and had some idea from self satisfaction. Wrong, or she wouldn’t be here.
Moistening her lips, she met his gaze boldly. “I’m in your hands, remember?”
A smile curved his lips. “Oh, love, that was just the right answer.”
She certainly hoped so, because it was the only answer she had for him.
Leaning forward, he braced his hand beside her shoulder and lowered his head until his lips hovered just above her mouth. “Open up for me.” His finger slid through the curls sheltering her mound to delve between the moist flesh of her labia, just as his tongue slid along the seam of her lips. “Both places, Molly Jones. Open to me.”
It was a seductive order that had the smouldering fires inside her leaping.
It was the masterful way he took her mouth and plundered the depths that had the fire flaring.
It was the sure way his finger slid through her moist flesh to toy with the little clitoris hiding high up that had the fire searing through her veins.
Lightening flared through her and her hips surged up of their own accord. Damien chuckled into her mouth, licking deep with his tongue while his finger found the opening to her body and slid inside.
Cherry couldn’t think, she could barely breath as his finger invaded virginal places that had never felt a man’s touch. The liquid heat washed through her, making his invasion so easy, and when he pulled his finger from her to slide the slickness against her perineum, she could only grab his shoulders and squeeze tight.
“You’re hot, baby.”
His lips scorched a path across her mouth to her throat. “So sweetly hot.” The heel of his palm ground lightly down upon her mound, and she felt the splintering inside her.
Her breathing was almost ragged, her nipples peaking, and when he dipped his head and engulfed one hardened peak into his mouth, she thought she’d die. He sucked strongly, each pull at her breast plucking strings straight to her womb and beyond.
Chapter Three
Mellow with friendship, and more than a little foxed with whiskey, Rick hadn’t expected the surprise Tim had mentioned to be a woman with curves to make a man’s mouth water. Normally he wouldn’t bed a strange woman, but there was something about her that appealed to him in his slightly inebriated state.
Combine loneliness, stress, a lot of whisky, and the gloom of a looming date with The Barracuda, and it was not a good mix. So when he was faced with this rather shy woman with the rubenesque figure and air of mystery, he briefly wondered where his friend had found such a surprise for him and threw caution to the wind. For this one night, he was going to enjoy himself. A man who genuinely enjoyed the company of the fairer sex, both in and out of bed, he’d been without female company for a few months and this temptation in front of him was most welcome.
She was a delight, a mixture of seduction and shyness. Molly Jones, if that was her real name, was an enigma to be savoured, and savour her he would. If he’d had his pants on, his shaft would have been burning a hole through it.
Within seconds he had her creaming for him, her tight little vagina clamping down on his fingers as she closed her eyes and arched under his expert touch. Those bountiful breasts ached to be kissed, and he played his tongue over the pink nipples, her every moan a balm to his ego, heightening his own desire.
Every undulation of her full figure beneath his hands had his shaft hardening even more, his blood pooling achingly in the hard length until it was almost painful. Rolling on the condom with unusual speed just added to the whole carnal atmosphere. When he swung over her and settled himself between her soft thighs, it felt like heaven.
She opened her eyes and he caught the glimpse of blue in them. The partially opened bathroom door shed only enough light to make out dim features, and it was titillating. Mysterious. It added eroticism to the mystery of Molly Jones.
“Tell me your real name.” He kissed along her jaw line.
“Not…in the rules,” she panted.
“There are no rules.”
“There is when it comes to names.”
“Woman of mystery.” He rasped his tongue along the pulse in her throat, feeling her arch beneath him, her rounded belly pressing his erection between them with a delicious pain that had him groaning.
Tunnelling his fingers in the thick wealth of hair that pooled on the pillow beneath her head, he held her still while he kissed her, taking her mouth almost brutally as he tasted her once more. Delicious. He licked across her lips, evading her mouth when she arched for another kiss, teasing them both by rocking his hips against her softness.
He felt her shudder and lifted his head. “Oh no, love, you don’t get off without me.”
“I think I’m going to die,” she moaned, her small foot running up the back of his leg. “Please.”
How could a decent bloke ignore a plea like that? Shifting his hips, he felt his erection slide through those curls, the sensation of them brushing the engorged head of his shaft making his throat arch back. When that engorged head slid between those moist lips sheltering her secrets to finally lodge at the entrance to her body, he thought he might very well die with her. Gritting his teeth, he held still for several seconds.
She didn’t help when she writhed beneath him, her knees bending, her soft thighs rubbing against his hips. “Please. Please.” She whispered something else that sounded like ‘Damien’ or ‘David’ but in his slightly inebriated state could well have been ‘damn’. He wasn’t sure and he really didn’t care, because the fire roaring through his veins was making his heart thunder and his shaft throb.
Everything he wanted right then was beneath him – a soft, willing woman – and everything his shaft wanted was right before it – the entrance to her body that sheltered cavern that would clasp him so achingly, sweetly, torturously, tight.
One thrust and he breached her entrance, the engorged head forging inside followed by the thick shaft that propelled it forward.
She was so damned tight, so hot, and so moist with need that he pushed through the clasping walls of her sheath easier than he otherwise would have, forging onward and breaking through something so fragile he almost didn’t notice it.
Beneath him, Molly stiffened slightly, and thinking it was his size causing discomfort, he shifted the angle, soothing her with hot kisses, swallowing her soft cry and then her moans as he worked inside her, thrusting easily, slowing his movements, enjoying the sensation of her satiny tightness clasping his shaft so firmly.
She relaxed slightly, her ardour burning again as he stroked it higher with each slow, measured thrust of his shaft inside her, his hips surging almost lazily but powerfully. He felt like he could do this forever, that he’d explode in a second, that he didn’t want it to end but if it didn’t soon, he’d surely die. It was a mixture of emotions ands sensations that seared through him as surely as his blood was searing through his veins.
Hot and relentless, building more and more, higher and higher, his lust seemed to know no bounds. It built feverishly, his hips thrusting faster, his shaft invading her body relentlessly as he rutted with almost helpless prurience.
He wanted her, needed her, felt like he wanted to brand her inside and outside with his seed, his taste, his touch. Dropping his head he kissed her hard, eating at her mouth, and she met him eagerly, her fingers twining in his hair.
Not wanting to arch far from her body but needing the extra power for his thrusts, he came up on his elbows, his forearms resting on the mattress as his hips pounded against her, his shaft sinking deep, the seed leaking from the tip.
Her body was so damned soft, a cushion for his hard planes.
He kept his gaze locked on her, his voice almost harsh as he ordered quietly, “Look at me.”
Molly opened eyes that were bright with passion, her lips swollen from his punishing kisses. She looked exactly what she was – a woman well ravished.
Even as he pounded harder into her, a distant part of him wished the light was on so that he could see her properly, that she could see him, that he could tell the true colour of her eyes and explore her body with nothing to hide her secrets from his hot gaze.
Pure carnal lust hazed over his distant thoughts when Molly shifted beneath him, causing him to change angle, his shaft almost sliding out of her. The cool air on his heated flesh only added fuel to the fire and he moved inside her again, sure and fast, stroking hard, his breath loud in the room, her moans a sweet goading to his senses.
The fire built hotter, his scrotum tightening, his balls so hard and full he felt like he’d burst. He could swear he felt the fire running through his shaft, swelling the head even more, and then he felt it, the first spurt of seed.
Almost at the same instant he felt the ripple of her sheath, the muscles clamping down on him, and it was his undoing. Sweet mercy, was it! His climax shuddered his hips, grinding him against her as she clasped him, her sheath milking his shaft mercilessly.
He rocketed over the edge of that carnal eruption, his hips jerking hard against her, once, twice, three times. Her cry of orgasm echoed in his ears as he soared out and splintered into a million delicious, fiery pieces.
~*~
Cherry knotted the tie of her dress around her waist while studying the man sleeping so soundly in the bed she’d just vacated. He slept like the dead, heavily and with not a worry in the world, it would appear. Lying on his stomach, his dark hair flopped rakishly over his forehead, his muscular arms bent and hands under the pillow beneath his head. The strong lines of his naked back, buttocks and legs were enough to make her l
ick her lips.
All that strength had been above her and inside her. Damien had taken her to a place she’d never thought she’d see, that was surely just a myth found in romance novels. Turned out it wasn’t a myth. She wondered if it was the same with all men, or just special ones. Or just with professionals.
Pushing her hair back over her shoulders, she checked her watch. The taxi would arrive in five minutes. She’d foolishly allowed her self to luxuriate in Damien’s arms, lying snug against him while he slept. For the first time in her life she knew what it was like to be held in a lover’s embrace. When he turned onto his stomach, thereby releasing her, she’d reluctantly and stealthily left the bed. The last thing she wanted was the taxi to toot its horn and possibly wake up Damien.
Placing the four hundred dollars on the bedside table, she took one last, long, lingering look at the slumbering man and then, with a sigh, she dropped the motel room key beside his wallet, picked up her handbag and crept outside, careful to ensure that the lock clicked into place behind her.
Outside it felt chilly, and she tilted her face to the sky to inhale the damp night air. She felt…different. Deliciously used, a little sore, satisfied but also strangely bereft. Then and there she decided that she just might have to book Damien again for another night a little later down the track. For now she was going to bask in the afterglow of her first time of sex.
The taxi came and she stepped out, holding up her hand. It slowed down and she climbed into the back. Giving her address, she settled back against the seat and closed her eyes.
The taxi driver tried a few times to initiate a conversation but when all he got was a couple of “hmmms”, he gave up and the rest of the trip was in silence.
Once inside her own home, she greeted the cats who simply eyed her sleepily from her bed and went back to sleep. Smiling to herself, humming a little tune, she went into the bathroom and slipped off her dress before stepping into the shower.
Doctor's Delight Page 4
