by Anthology
“You’re very good.”
The rumble of the words through his belly into her ear made her chuckle. She undulated along his body, pulling herself up so their faces were even.
“Thank you, sir.” She smirked. “I would say the same of you.”
“Mmm, in bed, most definitely yes, but I was actually referring to the game. It took me a while to figure out how you did it, arranged for those cards to be in my hand. You are, dear lady, very good indeed.” He rolled her over to her back, propping himself on an elbow to look down at her. “Men get shot for cheating at cards. So can ladies, I suppose.”
“Somehow, I don’t think any shooting will be going on here. Wouldn’t that be something? You calling me out for cheating in order to get me into your bed?”
He laughed in reply. “Well, the appetites of widows are well known. Tell me, was there really a Mr. Delaney?”
“Ye-es, but his name’s not Delaney, and he’s not actually dead.”
“Not a widow then.”
“A grass widow, if you will. He was…not a kind man. I felt parting was best.”
“So you’ve lived by your wits ever since. Remarkable.”
The open admiration on his face made Gemma want to weep and shout with triumph at the same time. Having the acknowledgement of a true peer was a satisfaction as intense as their coupling.
The flare of emotion made her painfully aware that at the end of their twenty-four hours she would be on her own once more. The time that had seemed ample moments before became all too brief. She pushed away the idea.
Royce cleared his throat. “Have you ever thought of taking on a…partner?”
Her heart sank. Men were all alike—if they saw a thing, they wanted to own it.
“I neither want nor need a protector, some man to lord over me.” It was difficult to appear haughty while lying naked in his bed, her bottom still tingling from his hands, but she did her best. “I will not be a possession.”
“And I have not suggested such a thing. I’m offering, asking for, a collaboration between equals. Can’t you see the advantages? We could work the river together.”
In truth, there were so many places a woman alone could not go. Her entrance into last night’s game was a bluff that had paid off.
“And if, when, things get too hot, we can move on.”
Warming to the idea, she let her imagination roam. “Where? Out west?”
“How about Europe? Paris, Vienna. You’ll be the toast of the town.”
“While we steal the linings from their pockets!” They laughed together, giddy with exhilaration.
“You’ll have a confederate in the drawing rooms of society…and a master in the boudoir. Though even here, Gemma, I think you have the upper hand.”
His eyes darkened; the heat from his hardening cock pressed against her. He levered himself up onto all fours.
Her legs fell wide open, ready and willing for him to take her again. Then he was pushing into her, still sticky wet from their last encounter. Her head moved up and down beneath his thrusts, hair tangling in the rumpled blankets.
“Mr. Prescott, I think this is the beginning of a, oh, profitable, and most, ohhh, pleasurable, association.”
Rogue Hearts
Delilah Devlin
Just as arranged, I arrived at the hotel lobby at 8:00 PM sharp. I made my way to the concierge’s desk and picked up the envelope left for me. Inside was the card key. No note. I headed for the elevators, trying to still the fluttering of butterflies in my belly.
Once the doors closed, I glanced at my reflection in the mirrored walls. Other than two bright spots of color riding my cheeks, there was no sign of my inner case of nerves. The woman staring back was a stranger: frizzy blonde hair tamed into a sleek, shoulder-length bob, features masked with artfully applied makeup, green contacts altering my ordinary, hazel eyes. The dress was another bit of subterfuge. The waist nipped in any softness there, the skirt flared over padded hips. The navy silk leant me an air of mystery and style, in stark contrast to my usual work “uniform” of fuzzy pajama pants and superhero tees.
Tonight was about fantasies—mine—and the packaging was just my armor to make sure I could get through this evening without geeking out. A tall order for someone as painfully shy as I was. Someone who preferred the company of her cat and her online friends.
The chime sounded as the elevator stopped at the seventh floor. I took a deep breath, lifted my chin, and stepped out with confidence. An act, because now the butterflies were flapping franticly to escape.
At the door, I quickly swiped the card, hoping I’d arrived first. So that I’d have time to get comfortable in my surroundings or hide in the bathroom. But when I pressed down on the handle, I heard music playing softly inside the pricey suite. The lighting was muted. A man wearing a tailored suit stood in front of the large window, his back to me, his lean frame outlined against the city skyline.
Should I clear my throat? I reconsidered. He might take that as a sign of nervousness. And I had been the one to select this particular scenario. No need to alert him to the fact this role I was set to play lay completely outside my reality.
He saved me from making my first mistake, turning slowly, his dark gaze roaming over my body.
As he looked, I hoped my jaw wasn’t sagging. His profile picture on the Fantasy Dates forum hadn’t done him justice. Tall and athletic, he’d written, but the description didn’t encompass the breadth of his shoulders or the narrowness of his hips. His dark hair was cropped close, his dark brows a tad heavy, but they gave him that brooding look, that Heathcliff vibe that tended to cause a woman’s knees to weaken and her heart to race. Mine sure did. Add lips that were neither too large or small, but with that requisite firmness that challenged a girl to think of a way to pull that mouth into a smile. He was utterly perfect.
Too perfect for me. I tightened against the urge to whirl and flee.
“You’re prompt,” he said.
“I consider it bad manners to arrive too early or too late,” I murmured, wondering who the hell was speaking because my voice was never that sultry.
“Well, we’re here,” he said, waving a hand at the suite.
How was I to reply to that? Duh. Yeah. But then I realized what he wasn’t asking. What next? This was my fantasy.
And what had I specified? A good-looking male escort, willing to fulfill a new client’s desires. I’d been vague, and after my fantasy request had sat on the forum without a single query of interest, the administrator had asked if I could specify what those desires were. My mind had gone blank and for the two days I’d kept that website tab closed because I hadn’t decided what exactly I wanted to have happen. But then, he’d replied. Cool Operator was okay with a vague scenario. He preferred room to “operate”.
He’d saved me from having to put to words what I wanted. Now, I wasn’t so sure that had been the wisest course of action. Our dark net forum was a place for the seediest, most secretive assignations. No Tinder or Match.com hook-ups there. I’d never had the nerve to put myself “out there” in a public way. Although I had questioned my sanity over going this route.
I took courage from my last reply to his arrangements for the evening. My friends will know where I am. Should things go south, I’ll be sure to leave plenty of DNA to point your way.
He’d replied a moment later with, Oh, we’ll leave plenty of DNA, sweetheart.
I’d spent a sleepless night contemplating that statement. Imagining the DNA we’d leave on the sheets, the rug, the bathroom…
Okay, so my fantasies had been strictly erotic. Not CSI-worthy.
And here we were, and he was still looking at me with those darkly hooded eyes, waiting for me to indicate how I wanted to proceed.
How would Sonoma Siren reply? Keep to the script. “Your agency said you were willing to accommodate special requests,” I said, giving him a slight smile—hoping it was an appropriately seductive curve of my lips.
“My agenc
y…was correct.”
Still, he didn’t move a muscle. Didn’t approach. The moment dragged out until I knew he wasn’t going to make this easy for me. His silence was a challenge.
Answering challenges wasn’t something natural for me. Work came my way without much effort. I rarely ventured out of my routine. And yet, his brooding gaze sparked something inside me. Here, this night, I could be bold.
I strode toward him, letting my hips sway, aware the fabric molded to first one side then the other, giving him a clearer idea of my true shape. His eyelids dipped as he followed my movements. His jaw tightened just a fraction.
My un-model-like physique didn’t appear to put him off. My confidence grew. When I stood a foot away, I turned slowly. “Would you help me with the zip?”
He made a sound, like a soft cough, but his hands quickly lifted away my hair. The zipper lowered, and I took my first deep breath of the evening. He inhaled deeply and his fingers traced a path down the center of my naked back.
I looked over my shoulder, trying to gauge his reaction while at the same time flirting with my eyelashes.
He pushed the silk off my shoulders and bent to place a kiss in the curve of my neck. “I take it, we won’t be heading to the dining room?”
“If you’re hungry, we can order in…”
He bit my neck, causing me to jerk. “Maybe later.”
I took an unsteady breath and stepped away. His hands left my shoulders. Turning slowly, I let him see the excitement building inside me. My cheeks were warm, my breaths jagged. I was going to do this. Have an assignation with a stranger. An “escort” I’d never met. And I was in charge. I lifted my chin toward his chest. “I’d like to see what I’m paying for.” Well, we’d both paid for this, having agreed to split the hotel bill down the middle, but we still had parts to play.
His crooked smile was more bemused than salacious, a relief to me, because if he’d leered, I might have had second thoughts. Instead, adorably, a flush spread across his cheeks as he removed his jacket, his tie, then slowly unbuttoned his white dress shirt. The moment the sides opened to expose his chest, my breasts tightened. His chest was nicely muscled, lightly cloaked with dark brown hair. My gaze followed the narrow trail that disappeared beneath his belt.
He didn’t make me wait. The belt, the zipper were both opened, the pants quickly slid down leanly muscled thighs. A runner, I thought as I tried not to gawk at the erection pressing against his gray briefs.
When he stood in just his underwear, his curled hands resting on his hips, I couldn’t help but think of Bruce Wayne—urbane, handsome, cute in a suit—hiding his powerful allure. Not letting himself be seen for who he truly was until he masked up. Only Cool Operator’s attractions grew when he removed the safe suit. Did that make him Clark Kent? Imagining him nude but wearing a cape made me smile.
“Not fair,” he said wagging a finger.
I took a ragged breath. “That should be my line,” I said, waving a hand up and down his body. “I’m not nearly as interesting.”
“I’m an escort. I’ve pleasured older women with neglectful husbands, homely girls who can’t find their own dates. I’m feeling pretty lucky tonight.”
A blush spread over my cheeks. But his reassurance did the trick. I stepped out of my heels, then pulled at the front of my dress, and slipped my arms out. Nude from the waist up, I gauged his reaction by the tightening of his abdomen and the stirring of the hard ridge poking at his underpants. Quickly, before I lost my nerve, I pushed the dress past my hips to let it fall with a soft whoosh to the floor.
I lowered my eyes and stood still. Suddenly shy. He stepped forward and reached out, his thumbs slipping under the elastic at my hips. He pulled. It gave. And then I was entirely naked, my thighs pressing together because a pulse was throbbing, there between my legs.
The script. I was the one in charge. I placed my hands on his hips, and glided downward, but his briefs snagged on his erection.
He made a soft grunting sound. I hoped it wasn’t laughter. But the thought firmed my resolve. I plucked the waistband outward, freeing his cock, and then knelt to drag his undergarment to his feet.
Of course, that left his cock at eye-level—if I would only turn my head to look.
Slowly, his hand entered my view, and he wrapped his fingers around his shaft and slowly tilted it toward me.
Not the script. But what the hell? I was curious now whether it was as firm as it appeared. Whether I’d like his scent. Whether he’d taste every bit as yummy as he looked. I turned and tilted my head and let him press the tip against my mouth. I opened and invited him to slide the tip atop my tongue.
Again, his eyelids dipped. His features sharpened as his jaw tightened.
I slid my tongue over the crown and swirled and swirled. Clean, maybe a hint of soap—his spicy musk was enticing. I latched my lips around him and sucked.
His head fell backward and he sighed.
Encouraged I was getting this right, I pushed away his fingers and wrapped my own around his length. I could be Sonoma Siren to his Clark Kent. A new superhero. A villainess ready to drain away his power—without the need for Kryptonite.
I sucked harder. My fingers tightened and began to stroke up and down his hard shaft, each glide rising to meet my downward moving lips.
His hips surged forward, pushing his cock deeper into my mouth. I gurgled a bit, but didn’t resist, allowing him to slide along my tongue and butt against the back of my throat. Breathing through my nose, I relaxed and let him slide deeper, smiling around him when he groaned.
My own body warmed, melting from the inside. Moisture pooled between my legs. My nipples ached.
But just when I was certain I had him there at the precipice, he pushed me gently away and stepped backward. He reached downward for his slacks, pulled out his wallet and slid a condom from a hidden pocket. “Before we go any further,” he said, his voice sounding strained.
I stood, watching as he rolled it down his length, ready to push him to his back and climb over his lap, but he scooted backward on the bed and patted the mattress beside him.
I wiped my hand across my mouth and lowered my eyebrows. I didn’t want to slow down. Didn’t want to follow his direction. But I was also growing desperate to feel him inside me. Perhaps I could tempt him to give me what I needed if I were closer.
I crawled onto the mattress, firming my tummy, but allowing my breasts to sway. My best assets. Full, creamy-skinned, cherry-topped. And indeed, his gaze locked on my nipples as moved to his side and rested, propped on one elbow above him while he lay with his hands beneath his head.
“I’m curious,” he said, his tone deep and a bit graveled.
I shook my head. “No personal details,” I reminded him.
His gaze narrowed. Then he reached for a breast, plumped it in his hand, and rasped his finger across the tip. “Why this scenario?”
I drew a deep breath—partly because that lazy thumb was making me shiver, and partly because I wanted to share my answer. Still, saying it out loud… “I didn’t want a date. Didn’t want to sit across from anyone at a restaurant and make small talk, and at the end of the night, get a peck on the cheek and a promise to call. This is more direct.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You wanted a hookup. I get that. But why use the forum?”
“I have certain desires I want fulfilled. And I wanted a player willing to do whatever I requested.”
He grunted softly. “Do these desires have anything to do with that duffel bag you dropped?”
I nodded. “You agreed to be mine. To do whatever I want.”
“Is there a list of things you want?”
“No. But once you open the bag, I’ll expect you to use what’s inside.”
His head tilted, and his gaze narrowed again as he studied my face. For a long moment, he stared. Then he rolled to the side and left the bed, striding directly toward the bag. He set it on the banquet table against the wall and unzipped it, then glanced bac
k at me with a look I couldn’t read.
I closed my eyes, because I didn’t want his laughter or judgment.
“Stay that way,” he said softly. “Keep your eyes closed.”
Something thudded, and I realized he must have emptied the bag. God, I hoped he understood how to use the things I’d brought. I began to regret not being at least a little more specific. “Someone with BDSM experience required!” would have made this moment less anxiety-filled.
His feet padded closer. The mattress dipped. “Open,” he said, his mouth beside my ear.
I gave a little moan as I opened my mouth to accept the ball gag. Now, I wouldn’t have to worry about making conversation with this man. I mouthed it as he closed the straps behind my head.
A finger lifted my chin. I peeked upward to find him staring down at the black ball trapped between my lips. “Very nice. Now, be a good girl and roll over. I want you on your knees.”
Oh my, that voice! Firm but not harsh. Naturally dominant. Or at least as I’d imagined a Dom might sound. I rolled then hesitated. If I came to my knees, the view I’d present couldn’t be more unflattering.
Something rapped the bed beside me. The paddle. I shot to my knees, my embarrassment forgotten, my body trembling with excitement. The leather bands I’d purchased were buckled around my thighs. A hand pushed between my shoulders until I lowered my chest to the bed. Then he took my wrists, one at a time, and fastened them against my outer thighs.
When he’d finished, I felt a moment’s panic. I’d allowed a stranger to restrain me. He could do what he pleased. And if his particular fantasy was something darker than what I’d envisioned, I’d be helpless to stop him.
The bed behind me dipped. Hands stroked over my bottom and the backs of my thighs. “This is what you wanted?”
I lifted my head and gave a nod.
I felt his breath against my ass a moment before his tongue slid between my cheeks, following the divide from just above my pussy, moving slowly upward in wet laps until he reached my anus.
I held my breath and cringed a little bit, quivering, but then his tongue touched me there. I jerked, surprised at how sensitive I was.
