by Mel Teshco
She couldn’t help but smile. “Sometimes being reminded about something you’d rather forget is a good thing. No matter how negative it might feel at the time.”
“It sounds as though you’re speaking from experience.”
She’d already told him she wasn’t a fan. There was no way she was going to admit to the devastation she’d experienced on hearing the one song that’d reminded her all too vividly of Toby’s betrayal. A reminder she needed to have so as to never let something like it happen again.
Instead, she shrugged and said, “Maybe.”
He rubbed at his brow, his voice dry. “I’ll have to remember you don’t talk about yourself. So let’s talk about something else?”
Her taut shoulders relaxed. “Sure.”
He glanced her way, his stare glinting. “I imagine affecting people so effortlessly with your looks and charisma must also be a heady feeling?”
She hid a smile. As a handsome as hell rock god, he’d understand all too well.
But she’d play along. “It can be daunting at times too. High expectations and all that.”
He chuckled. “Well, you have nothing to fear from me. I have no expectations aside from enjoying looking at you while we socialize until some ungodly hour of the morning.”
The car dashboard was already inching toward midnight. The hours would tick by far too quickly for her liking. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he didn’t find her attractive enough to take to bed. Or maybe he wasn’t attracted to the opposite sex, period. No. There was too much sexual tension between them to imagine he wasn’t interested.
When Amos pulled up at a hotel that gleamed golden under its many lights, and which washed him in a glow that made him appear even more magnificent, she shivered with yearning.
Even Toby hadn’t affected her with this carnal need that had her pulse hammering and her womb clenching. No client or lover had made her feel this intensity of need.
A valet appeared out of seemingly nowhere and opened Tiffany’s door. She smiled thanks before the young man handed Amos a claim ticket in exchange for a large tip. The valet beamed approval and jumped into the car to drive it to the parking area beneath the hotel.
Amos stepped toward her and held out his arm. “Let the night begin.”
Chapter Two
‡
Tiffany rode up the elevator with Amos to the top floor of the penthouse suite. Not even a minute later she stepped through its opened doors. All of her clients were wealthy and it was nothing to see beautiful living areas with sweeping views of Sydney Harbour. Not that she noticed anyway. All her attention remained on Amos as they walked through the suite.
He stopped at an inbuilt bar that gleamed under downlights. “Help yourself to a drink.”
“Thanks.” She slanted him a look and asked throatily, “Is there anything you’d like?”
His stare brushed over her little black dress with its lace inserts at the bodice and waistline, before moving down to her strappy stilettos with her red-painted toenails.
When his burning stare finally settled back on her face, his smile was tellingly strained. “Thank you, but no.” He stepped back. “Give me five minutes to shower and change and then we’ll be out of here.”
She repressed a flare of shock and managed a nod before watching him with wide eyes as he strode toward the bathroom, dragging off his shirt as he went. Her mouth dried at his broad, glistening back that revealed tattoos that were surprising to say the least, particularly the white rose and red heeled shoe.
The ink had a story to tell, one she was sure was totally irrelevant to the swirling guitar and microphone tattoos on his shoulders, and the intricate, dark tribal patterns on his upper arms. Sadness for a moment welled inside. The story was one she’d probably never uncover.
Some text underpinned the images, but he stepped into the bathroom before she had a chance to decipher the words.
She blinked, then turned away to tip some scotch into a squat, crystal glass. Taking a mouthful of the strong, amber liquid, she put the glass down with a sharp clack. She wouldn’t stand for rejection and she also had a job to do. Client satisfaction was her business and she wanted very much to be the woman who gave Amos exactly that.
She drew off her heels and lacy black thong, before she dragged off her dress and draped it over the lounge. Following him into the bathroom, she paused at the doorway, her nipples springing into hard buds and her breath for a moment stolen right out of her.
Steam filled the air but she saw enough of his body to know she wanted to see more. His back was to her and his face angled up into the water. Dear lord, he could have been an athlete with his wide shoulders and trim waist, and a rounded ass that was made for grasping.
He turned slightly, and her eyes widened. His cock was long, thick, and hard, the shaft roped with veins. Damn. She’d seen plenty of gorgeous—and not so gorgeous—naked bodies, but Amos’ was perfection.
She opened the steamed glass door and stepped inside the shower stall about the same time his eyes connected to hers. His light blue stare darkened, his cock twitching.
“Tiffany.” He growled—or was it more a groan—before he stepped toward her, his earlier rebuffal clearly forgotten.
His big wet body enveloped her, and she gasped when he spun her around and pushed her against the tiled wall. After making no attempt to seduce her, she hadn’t expected his take no prisoners approach. He bent his head, and his mouth slammed over hers in a kiss that didn’t pretend any gentlemanly intent.
She moaned into his mouth, hungry for him, for his possession. Hungry for the man who’d been her rock in an unstable world. A singer who’d lifted her from lowest of lows to the highest of highs.
Her body might be trained for sex, but she didn’t need to act on her skill. Every touch, stroke, press, and grind against him was pure animal instinct.
He groaned something unintelligible before he dragged her off the wall and into the hot water pummeling around them. One of his big hands splayed across her hip, keeping her in place, while his other hand palmed the mound of her sex.
She moaned, loud and deep, grinding against his hand, desperate for his touch. He pulled his head back, water streaming down his face, down hers, and his eyes burned into hers. “You want respite?”
It was her job to give him the physical release he craved, not the other way around. But right then she didn’t have the will to fight the need bubbling like lava inside and needing release.
She nodded, her voice cracking. “Yes.”
He parted the petals of her labia and touched her clit. She leaned into him with a sharp gasp, clinging onto his shoulders for support. Damn, without her heels, he was a giant of a man. He pressed her nub a little harder, but didn’t stroke. The bastard was deliberately drawing out her needs until she was all but writhing.
“Please.” She whimpered.
His eyes darkened, his cock jerking against her belly.
With a harsh exhalation, he growled. “I love it when you beg, sex kitten.”
Giving her no time to answer, he thumbed her sensitized clit, massaging the swollen bundle of nerves with a skill that pushed her straight over the brink.
He slid a finger into her as the first orgasm hit. Her inner muscles contracted around him and her legs went weak, but he easily kept her balanced. When he flicked her clit again, a second orgasm hit her hard. She shuddered against his hand, and he cupped her sex in a possessive touch, while she returned to earth with her knees weak and her body warmer than honey.
His cock strained against her belly, warm and pulsating with life, and surely bigger than any client she’d had before? She licked her lips, tasting tap water but yearning to instead sample the saltiness taste of Amos’ pre-cum, yearning to feel his all his hard length and breadth inside her, filling and stretching her to the limits.
She cupped his heavy ball sack and his breath sharply hissed. When she stroked his shaft up and down, he stilled her hand and shut down th
e water.
“You’re not getting my seed out of me that easily.” He growled, before he bent and lifted her against his chest. With both of them dripping wet, he carried her out of the bathroom and across the living space, before striding into a huge bedroom.
He laid her onto a bed, the mattress depressing beneath her and a soft coverlet caressing her spine. She sighed at the softness even as her stare caressed all his glorious hardness.
She could only imagine how many female fans eyeballed him in his leather pants when he was on stage. It would be those same women who’d fantasize about having his well-endowed cock pumping into them.
Too bad ladies, tonight he’s all mine.
Her belly clenched and moisture that had nothing to do with the shower slicked her pussy. Her belly fluttered and her pulse pounded. She hadn’t been this needy for a man since… forever.
But then, working in the sex industry, it was all too easy to take for granted great sex. She grinned. She never failed to appreciate an orgasm, not when they were too few and far between.
Amos reached into a side table to retrieve a condom before he deftly rolled it onto his shaft. “Are you ready for me, kitten?”
He even needed to ask? She cracked out a yes, before he climbed over her. His stare blazed, but she detected something else in the depths, something both primitive and gentle. And although their kiss had been savage, when he centered himself at her core, he pushed into her slowly, his thick length filling her until pleasure merged with pain.
She stiffened and he paused, waiting for her muscles to adapt, the cords of his neck sticking out with the restraint. “Are you okay?” he asked hoarsely.
She blinked. His size had obviously been a problem to the women he’d taken to bed in the past. She snuffed out an unsettling sensation that was too close to jealousy for comfort. She was a call girl; she had no right to feel that way.
A client’s love life was his business, not hers.
She spoke past her scratchy throat. “I’m good.”
He assessed her for a moment before his face relaxed, and he bent and kissed her. His mouth was soft and gentle, then fierce and dominating as he began moving inside her with long, slow strokes.
She closed her eyes, forgetting to breathe, forgetting to act on the call girl tricks that got a man off. Instead, she reveled in her electrified nerve endings that built pressure within. Then he lifted her knees back, and plunged deep. Her eyes widened at the different angle and nerve endings he’d hit, and at the rush of heat that pooled in her core.
His next stroke made her gasp in shock at the sparked inferno that lit up from within and shimmered through her in a cascade of rapture. She arched back and mewled long and loud, and Amos’ voice was savage with triumph when he said, “I’m going to make you come all over again.”
When her orgasm faded, his strokes increased, his balls slapping hard against her flesh and his jaw gritted with single-mindedness. But, this once, she wasn’t mindful of her client’s needs. This once, she was swept away in the moment, surrendering to the next climax that barreled through her like a tsunami, her inner muscles clamping around his cock.
Amos released his seed with a hoarse grunt of elation. And, for the first time in her profession, Tiffany wished she could feel the warm flood of his orgasm inside her. Yearned to feel his bare cock and his cum.
“Wow, kitten.” He rasped. “That was… incredible.”
Her lashes fluttered as she looked up at his face and drank in his profile like he was the last man on earth. “No arguments here,” she said, dazed and floating down from the high of the orgasm he’d induced.
His smile didn’t reach his eyes when he brushed a strand of blonde hair away from her face and said, “I bet you say that to all your clients.”
She bit back a scathing reply. Of course he’d think exactly that. She was just a sex worker, after all. She kept quiet as he gently disengaged and then disposed of his condom.
When he returned he lay beside her and drew her to face him. “That was also… unexpected,” he said huskily.
She smiled at him, already forgiving him for his earlier assumption. Even her heart was doing crazy little somersaults. “But it was a really good unexpected,” she murmured.
He nuzzled her throat, the shadow of his bristles scraping across her skin. “Yes. Most definitely, yes.”
She stretched languidly, and said deliberately, “I bet you say that to all your call girls.”
He grinned. “Actually, no. I’ve never once paid for intimacy.”
She stiffened, disbelief coursing through her. She looked up into his serious stare. Holy shit. He really meant it.
She swallowed, doing her best to push back a whole mountain of delight that threatened to break free. “So what do you pay us for?”
“Peace of mind.”
He was a rock star. She thought that’d be a privilege not a handicap. Still, it wasn’t her business. Her only concern should be his happiness and wellbeing, at least physically.
She brushed her fingertips down the light ripple of his abs, and he caught her hand in his before she reached his already thickening cock. “We’re already late for the afterparty.”
She smiled, ignoring a pang of disappointment. If she wasn’t paid to do his every whim, she wouldn’t have taken no for an answer. She’d never had such great sex in all her years of working in the sex industry, and she wanted almost desperately to experience it again.
She drew her hand free. “Then I’d better get some clothes on.”
She slipped out of bed, feeling his stare on her as she sashayed away from him and bent just so to scoop up her thong. She stepped into the lacy piece of nothing and pulled it up her thighs.
Her nipples hardened when she caught his burning eyes, and she asked him in a throaty voice, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in?”
And fuck the night away.
His answering smile was a lazy quirk of lips. “No, kitten. I’m just taking a moment to enjoy the scenery.”
She ran her hands up and down her torso, before she cupped her breasts. “Take all the time you need.”
Moving back to where he lay on the bed, she climbed over him and asked, “I can’t change your mind?”
Because she really truly wanted to do just that. Not because it was part of her job description. Not even because he was every woman’s fantasy. It was the explosive attraction between them that she wanted to sample again and again.
“You’re too sexy for you own good.” He said, clasping behind her head to bring her mouth down to his. His lips were warm and sure on hers, the tip of his tongue pushing in to taste and touch.
He pulled away first, his breathing as ragged as her own and his cock thick and hard. “If my fans weren’t expecting me at this party I’d stay here with you in a heartbeat. But it’s those same fans that buy my albums and give me the lifestyle I’m able to enjoy. And not to mention the rest of the band and my agent would never forgive me.”
His smile became a lopsided grin that looked all kinds of dirty as he lay back and pulled on her hips to bring her forward. “I’ll make the time though to give you one more orgasm.”
Before she could form even one coherent thought, he’d pushed aside her scrap of lace and spread her thighs wide above his face. She quivered even before she felt the first long stroke of his tongue. By the second and third strokes she was halfway to heaven, her hips moving involuntarily to grind along his mouth while his hands on her hips helped guide her.
He moaned against her clit and she inhaled sharply, every nerve ending down there quickening and swelling. Only when his big hands stilled on her hips, stopping any movement so he could lash her clit and then suckle the flesh like she was the finest lollypop, did she comprehend the true extent of oral pleasure.
She bucked against his mouth as she detonated, moaning something incomprehensible while little aftershocks left her shuddering and trembling. He licked her passion like he was a man starving, tasting her ess
ence before he released hold of her and she collapsed onto the bed beside him.
Holy smokes! Having one orgasm was a triumph, but three of them? It almost blew her mind.
Amos turned to her, his lips wet and glistening, his eyes fierce with need. He fisted his cock and stroked up and down, his stare glittering at her nakedness.
With a ragged sigh, he released his cock. “Fucking you will be all I think about every minute of the night until I sink into your gorgeous pussy again.”
She leaned close and kissed him, and his big hands outlined her jaw as he kissed her back with a fierceness that showcased just how much he wanted her again.
Tasting her musk on his lips, she pulled back with a self-satisfied smile. “Let’s get dressed.”
Ten minutes later, Amos had dragged on dark designer jeans that were ripped at the knees, a Frankenstein’s Blood black t-shirt and a leather jacket. His casual look leant him a dangerous air that fascinated her all the more.
She tugged on her dress and, after pushing into her heels, she attempted to fix her hair. He stepped toward her and she realized his height made her even more hyperaware of him. Like his sheer size and musculature would protect her from anything bad.
She withheld a sigh. A pity her other clients rarely inspired such confidence.
He put an arm around her and winked. “Somehow you look even sexier with bedroom hair and smelling of sex.”
Her womb clenched even as her heart warmed.
She pushed aside any feelings for her client and murmured throatily, “I have you to thank for that.”
“On the contrary, I should be thanking you.” His eyes heated. “I want to taste you all over again. And I want this damn afterparty over and done with.”
*
Amos followed Tiffany into the back of the stretch limousine that’d waited overtime to take him to the afterparty. He nodded at the chauffeur who swept their back door closed, but Amos wasn’t overly chagrined. In fact, he was selfish enough right then not to care about his lateness.
