Lisa Wells - Dib

by Lisa Wells

  A chauffeur, with the same bored expression as the previous guy, announced, “If you’re ready, your limo awaits.”

  Lacey forgot her breathing exercises and stifled a grin. The chauffeur’s tone was bored. His posture was stiff. His uniform immaculate. This show certainly hired some real winning personalities. How do they stay in business?

  Covey raised his eyebrows. “Lacey Valentine, where are you taking me to seduce me?” He threw the question out in a challenging tone.

  “The river.” She gave him one last look. How was it he excited and irritated the hell out of her all at the same time?

  She turned and walked out the door. She could feel his eyes burning holes in her skirt. How would those eyes feel when they looked at her naked body? If they could cause such heat through the material, they were bound to leave her with a sunburn when the material was removed.

  He was following close. Too close for comfort. She could feel his breath warm on her neck. She had the sensation of being a burning house. A house she had purposely caught on fire. Would she survive unscathed? Or would she come out of it scorched around the edges?

  She forced herself to relax and to get into character for their first fantasy. Oh, hell. The fantasy is in motion.

  Her breathing stopped and her step faltered.

  Would she be able to do this? She had to be able to do this.

  She coached her clients all the time on how to get into character for their fantasies. It’s just play. Have fun.

  Put everything else out of your mind and picture yourself as a new person.

  Right. Got it. New person.

  I can’t believe I’m twenty-two and still a virgin. Going to an all-girls college is the pits. Every girl I know has had sex. I’m going to have sex with the very next man I meet.

  Oblivious to the fact she was trying to get into character to have her way with him; Covey jarred her out of her thoughts and bullied her for a definition of a river. “The river? Do you mean one that has water, fish, snakes? Or a river as in the latest nightclub in New York?” he asked.

  Breathe in. Breathe Out.

  Breathe your way into character.

  Once you are in character, never slip out of it.

  Breathe in. You are a virgin looking for sex. You are a frustrated woman.

  Breathe out. You are a sexual woman.

  “Mmmm, the first. A moonlit float. I’m working on a fantasy for a new couple. I want to try it out before I include it in their package,” she responded.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  “Are you going to do a strip tease for me?”

  She was never going to be able to stay in character if he kept badgering her for details. “If you’re lucky, we might work that into our weekend,” she snapped.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  “Am I going to be research for your job?”

  Does DKNY sell perfume? “Do you have a problem with me treating you as research? I’m great at multitasking.” She liked how his voice got all cranky at the thought of being research. A college girl looking for sex would take it as a challenge.

  “Multitasking?”

  Even cranky, his voice was a turn on.

  “Do you plan your grocery list when you’re having sex?” he asked.

  She stopped walking and looked at him. “Not if my partner’s any good at what he’s doing. Are you any good Covey James?” This was harder than she thought it would be. Perhaps, she should tell him what the fantasy was they were to play out.

  “Oh, I’m good. I’m just wondering if you’re going to be any good. One man let you go for better sex.”

  Lacey gasped and slapped him soundly. “You insufferable pig. That was mean.” How did he know that? She hadn’t told him that.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  Breathe out. I mean in.

  Damn him! I can’t think.

  Covey shocked her by grabbing her hand in a steely grip. “I tend to be blunt. You’d better get use to it. Which river?” The smooth whiskey voice had turned into a moonshine tone. The kind that hurts as it goes down and leaves you staggering for balance immediately.

  Lacey looked at him and yanked her hand out of his grasp. “I feel sorry for the woman you’re going to bombard with a marriage proposal.” She rubbed her wrist where his hands had held it with such power.

  Masculinity flowed out of this man’s pores. She tried to remember the last time she had dated a brawny, blue collar man. None came immediately to mind. What kind of woman would say yes to marriage to him?

  She turned her back to him and started toward the limo. “The BuffaloRiver in Arkansas.” Her legs trembled as she walked, but her voice was steady. Her mind refocused on her role. It didn’t matter who the woman was he had in mind. For this weekend, he was hers.

  He flanked her in silence.

  The heat off the sidewalk was stifling. “The river is beautiful and peaceful. Not a lot of rapids to distract us from the setting. You can find out if I’m any good.”

  Covey’s hand landed on her shoulder stopping her from getting into the limo. She turned around slowly to look at him. Perhaps she should abort this mission and run. Run as far as she could away from him.

  They stood on the busy sidewalk of New York and inventoried each other’s assets. Warmth, which had nothing to do with the sun, engulfed Lacey in a layer of desire. She saw a similar craving burning in his eyes. Thoughts of scrapping the weekend quickly disappeared.

  It was all systems go. Time to launch her boosters.

  Nodding her head, as if they had both just declared the other desirable, she gave him a saucy smile. One, she hoped, hid her unease.

  Without warning, he pinned her against the limo. His lips sought hers in a savage attack. She struggled for air and pushed at his chest.

  He let go of her and she nearly fell. “I don’t plan on waiting until the river to find out if you’re any good,” he warned.

  She didn’t plan on waiting that long either. She nodded and bent her head to slide into the limo. Her skirt slid up. Although she hadn’t planned it this way, she knew teasing him with glimpses of her upper thighs was a good beginning to her planned fantasy. She held the pose long enough for him to get a good look at all that was on display.

  He surprised her by placing his palm on her ass.

  “Oh,” she said in surprise and then slid on into the limo. The little act of exhibitionism helped her to get into character.

  She would use all of her assets this weekend and all of her acting ability. And, if this first encounter was anything to go by, she would be using up all of her courage as well.

  When he was settled into the seat across from her, she slowly uncrossed her legs and left them open. Breathe.

  His glance slid rapidly to her panties, and his mouth softened. Slowly, she crossed her legs again.

  Covey’s eyes eventually met hers. The smoldering flame burning in them warmed her. She acknowledged his silent message of hunger with a tilt of her lips and looked down at his jeans. Her eyebrows rose in acknowledgement of his reaction.

  This man was in pain. Her nerves told her to abort the mission, but the rest of her body refused to listen.

  “Do you like what you see?” he asked, adjusting himself.

  She didn’t tear her attention away from his hand. “It appears you have potential. Did you like what you saw and felt?”

  His large palm moved from his erection and reached out to touch her face. “Definitely. Why don’t you slide out of those pink panties and get more comfortable?”

  “Pink? Panties?” She wrinkled her forehead in confusion. “Did I wear panties today? Normally, I don’t bother under my uniform.” She surprised herself with how well she was in character.

  Electricity crackled in the limo as she placed her hand under her skirt to check if she was indeed wearing panties. She raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. “You’re right. I did. And they’re damp.”

  His eyes remained glued to her every move as he settle
d back in his seat. She shifted sideways on the seat and leaned back until she was lying down. Her thumbs hooked underneath the tiny piece of material that held her panties together and she carefully wiggled them over her hips. Sitting up, she turned to face him again and slid them down her legs, over her MarVena Pumps. “Do you like pink?” she asked.

  When he nodded, she tossed them to him.

  He caught them and stuffed them in his shirt pocket.

  Lacey laughed in pretend delight. She leaned forward and handed the very stiff and proper, but no longer bored, chauffeur a piece of paper through the open window. Shit. I was supposed to give this to you first.

  The man’s eyes sparkled in amusement, before the glass partition slid close and automatic blinds hid them from his knowing eyes. He pulled the limo out into the heavy New York traffic leaving Lacey and Covey to finish what she’d started.

  Lacey took a deep breath. Breathe in. Breathe out. Stay in character. Horns blasted outside and buildings glided by in a blur.

  Chapter 9

  The knot in the back of Covey’s neck was gone. The headache he’d been plagued with for a week had disappeared. He felt alive. A smile tugged at his lips; he felt twenty-nine again.

  The anticipation of having sex with Little Miss Fantasy Coordinator unsettled him. He felt like a teenager about to lose his virginity. He wanted to grab her, spread her, and do her without flowery words or gentle caresses.

  If she was edgy about their adventure, he couldn’t tell. An aura of relaxation surrounded her. He found her poise arousing and a bit unnerving. Here was a woman approaching a new situation with total abandonment. His cock hardened just thinking of her apparent uninhibited personality and imagining what sex with her was going to be like.

  One look at her, and anyone could tell it was definitely a fantasy she intended to play during their limo ride to the airport. He’d never engaged in a sexual fantasy with a woman.

  He glanced at Lacey. She’d closed her eyes, shutting out the sight of him. Her eyes were screwed shut so tight he could practically see the fantasy playing in her mind. He pressed his lips together in displeasure. He wanted her to open her eyes and fantasize about him. He wanted to be the one to get her off, not some imaginary fantasy man. Drawing in a deep breath, he realized he was jealous.

  If she insisted on having a fantasy, he wanted her to fantasize about having sex with a guy she met on a dating show. He wanted the guy to look exactly like him. Act like him. Kiss like him. Sound like him.

  Was this normal for her? Was sex always about a fantasy with her? Did she ever just crawl into bed and have ordinary sex with a man? Or did she need fantasies to get the cream flowing in her panties?

  She owns a sex business. She doesn’t do boring sex. She creates sex.

  She’d made it clear she didn’t want anything from him when the weekend was over. The whole weekend must be about making a fantasy come true for her.

  She thought he was a blue-collar worker barely making a living. She thought the only thing he had to offer a woman was his body and a beer on the back porch.

  She was getting her jollies by having sex with a loser? A weird fantasy to be sure, but the only plausible explanation for why she chose him.

  He’d met a woman who truly didn’t have strings in the back of her mind? The woman of his fantasies.

  Why wasn’t he okay with being used to fulfill one of her fantasies? Why did he have to fight the desire to open his mouth and tell her all of his secrets and impress her with his success? He didn’t want her to think of him as a loser when she was having sex with him.

  How in the hell was it possible for her not to have the faintest clue who he was? Sure he went by a stage name when he sang, but hadn’t she seen pictures of him in the tabloids?

  He bit back the astonishment of realization. The tables were turned on him. Here was the woman of his selfish, let’s-just-have-sex dreams, and he wasn’t happy. He wanted her to want to get married. The admission was scoured from a place beyond judgment and rationale. If someone was going to say no to marriage, he wanted it to be him. What a hypocrite he was.

  Setting his Stetson cowboy hat on the seat, he ran his fingers through his hair, stretched his legs out, and inventoried his options.

  All she wanted was an orgasm. “Now what?”

  His voice caused her eyes to fly open and she gave him a startled look. “I’m sorry, are you talking to me?” she asked, in a delicate voice with a tiny frown marring her forehead.

  Covey resisted the urge to reach out and smooth the frown away. “I don’t see anyone else back here with us.”

  She rested a long, slim finger thoughtfully on her puckered lips and tilted her head in a gesture of confusion. “Have we met?” she asked.

  Covey’s brows slammed together. Were there rules to this damn game? Did he get any clue as to what she expected of him?

  People actually pay her to come up with sex games? Why couldn’t sex just be sex? Why make it into a game? “I thought we had,” he said gruffly.

  Her eyes grew round. “Thanks for letting me share your limo to the airport,” she said, before nibbling on her bottom lip. “This car is so big.” She reached for her purse and pulled a tube out.

  He watched her slide pink gloss over her lips. His gaze riveted to them, and then he let his eyes slide slowly over her body. He was a goner. He’d play whatever sex game she wanted to play. The woman just twined him around her little finger with a tube of gloss. She disturbed him in every imaginable way.

  He looked into her eyes. “It’s not the only thing big around here,” he replied, with a southern inflection. His cock felt like it would explode any moment. “Darling, allow me to introduce myself.” He held out his hand. “Covey James at your service. And who might you be?” he drawled. His drawl was getting a good workout around her. His grandmother would cringe to hear him speak in such a way. She’d worked so hard to make sure none of them spoke with a drawl.

  “Oh, your hand is big,” Lacey gushed. “I’ve never seen such big hands. My name’s Lacey.”

  “Lacey?” She wasn’t going to assume a new name with her new identity. His gaze fell to the creamy expanse of her legs.

  “Lacey Valentine,” she said, in a voice that vibrated sex.

  Covey swallowed hard. Acting wasn’t his forte. He was use to black and white situations. He’d try for point blank and see if that worked. He wanted to cut to the chase. “Lacey, I’m a horny cowboy. Do you want to have sex? I have something bigger and harder than my hand that I could show you.” He was acutely aware that the car was moving and time was slipping away. He didn’t want to miss the sex by spending too much time on the fantasy build up.

  She bit her lip and looked away. “I. Well. Mmm. This is kind of new to me. I guess we could have sex. You do have my panties in your shirt pocket.”

  He barely heard the words. His eyes were focused on her right hand sliding down over her breast, down her flat stomach, and stopping at the juncture of her legs.

  He groaned in approval when she pulled the skirt up a tad and gave him a prim, virginal look.

  So, her fantasy was to play steal my cherry in the back seat of a car. He could do that. “My mamma did teach me a woman is always right,” he said.

  She gave no indication she heard him. She was a much better actress than he was an actor.

  How many times had she performed this particular act for men? He hoped none, but knew that was wishful thinking. No doubt about it, purebred or not, Little Miss Fantasy Coordinator knew about sex.

  He swallowed hard and found his voice. “My friends call me a stud,” he drawled, and felt immediately like a complete idiot. Determined to get to the good part, he continued. “Girls are constantly throwing their panties at me when I’m on stage.” He patted the seat next to him. “Come here.” He looked her over seductively.

  She bristled and uncertainty clouded her eyes. Inch-by-painful-inch, she slid closer to him. She kept one finger in her mouth and the other hand res
ting on her womanhood. He resisted the urge to reach out and yank her onto his lap. The prolonged anticipation was almost unbearable.

  He was primed and ready to milk the sex kitten. He was busting to devour the sex kitten, and now, the sex kitten was acting the naughty, innocent. He wasn’t in the mood for an innocent. A sense of urgency drove him.

  Reaching out, he tangled his fingers in her hair, and he released the barrette holding it away from her face. He tossed it to the floor. Beautiful.

  Their eyes met and a vaguely sensuous glow passed between them. His fingers combed through the silky, blonde strands. Her hair felt like a fine pair of silk stockings against his skin. Without the restriction of the hair clasp, it fell around her shoulders and covered her breasts like satin sheets. His heart jerked and his pulse pounded. Every inch of her heavenly body would feel like satin sheets to his skin. His fingers closed around the back of her neck and he tugged her closer. He thought he detected a flicker of fear in her eyes. But, it quickly vanished.

  He liked the way her skirt bunched up around the top of her legs where he could see her nakedness. The hair there was slightly darker and curly. A neatly trimmed V begged for exploration.

  Her legs were long, golden, firm. They were the legs of a dancer. He recalled the introduction read by the host before she came out on stage. Little Miss Fantasy Coordinator was a stripper. Or at least, she taught women how to strip. The legs stretched out in front of him were made to be twined around a man. Around him.

  His fingers journeyed from her neck downwards. He pushed her hand away and tugged on the tiny, blonde hairs at the juncture of her legs. “You look like a wild child,” he murmured.

  She inched forward pressing into his hand; he cupped her gently. Her heat scorched him. He watched her scrape a knuckle across her mouth. The constricting pulse in her throat was the only indication she gave of being nervous.

  He groaned when he felt moisture against the palm of his hand.

  She tilted her head down shyly, successfully breaking eye contact. Her closeness was so female, so electric.

  She was the living, breathing fantasy of any man with red blood running through his veins. She’d been smart going into the fantasy business. She was made for selling sex. She’d make a fortune as a hooker.