by Mel Teshco
The shiver that went all the way to her toes was less fear and more unwitting excitement. Lately, he didn’t seem to care about anything but having her exclusively to himself.
He glanced at her with a smile, the dash lights somehow picking up the gold glints in his eyes. “Sorry, I was deep in thought.” His smile turned rueful. “Not particularly the memorable date I’d intended.”
“Every date with you is memorable,” she said huskily. It might sound like a practiced speech she gave all her clients, but it was scarily true. For someone in her line of work who lived for sex, it was crazy-town to love every single minute; every sexual encounter with one man.
Maybe because, although Blaine was unfailingly a gentleman, he was anything but one in the bedroom. There, he was a master player, a virtuoso, a man who knew exactly how to please a woman. A man who knew when to take her rough and fast, and when to give it to her infinitely slow and tender.
He could easily have been in the escort industry himself, leaving in his wake dozens of satisfied women too weak to drag up their cum-soaked panties. She smiled at the thought, even as something twisted a little inside.
Not that she was remotely jealous. That one word was reviled in her profession. She just had to remember this date was nothing more than business. And though she might have been peeved about him changing up her schedule, and possibly creating waves with Mackenzie, right now it felt all too right being with Blaine.
“You don’t pay me to have to always put on the charm.” She needed to remind them both of why she was here with him. She turned to him and shrugged. “You’ve had a rough day. I totally get it.”
She slid her hand a little higher, lingering at the top of his thigh. “Why don’t I help you forget whatever’s troubling you?”
He dragged in a ragged breath and flicked on the indicator before turning off the motorway that’d taken them North of Sydney. “Baby, you’re playing with fire.”
She idly traced the bulging outline of his arousal, enjoying every hard inch of him imprisoned beneath his jeans. Almost as much as she enjoyed his ragged breaths and clenched hands. Scraping a tapered fingernail along the swollen contours of his cock, she said hoarsely, “Maybe I want to be your gasoline.”
He groaned out an expletive and pulled the car off the road, where a couple of spreading gum trees sheltered a stretch of grass. Parking behind the nearest tree, with what appeared to be distant rolling hills as their backdrop, he turned glowing eyes her way. “I want you. Right here. Right now.”
Her mouth dried and her senses heightened. This was the mood she always wanted Blaine to be in with her. Aroused. Stimulated. Desperate to have her!
She unclipped her seatbelt with unsteady hands. Hitching up her skirt and about to drag down her lacy thong, he growled, “I’ll push them aside.”
Holy fuck. His harsh urgency had her womb clench and her pussy moisten in anticipation. Then again, everything about Blaine was thrilling and exciting.
She climbed onto him, straddling him even as he unzipped and unbuttoned his jeans. She helped push them down along with his boxer briefs far enough to free the big, hard length of him.
Her belly contracted. How was such a gorgeous specimen of a male also lucky enough to be gifted with the perfect weapon? She might not be able to see much more than shadows in the gloom, but she knew his cock intimately. It would be engorged and ribbed with veins, the slit undoubtedly beading with pre-cum.
Her mouth watered at the thought of tasting him, drawing in his salty essence before sucking his hard, pulsating length into her mouth.
She fisted his shaft instead, and was rewarded by his shuddering breath that morphed into a growl as she moved her hand up and down. She’d never get enough of turning this man on, never get enough of his cock. It was mouth-watering, silky-smooth velvet encasing unyielding steel.
“You’re killing me,” he said hoarsely.
She smiled. His words were the sweetest music to her ears. When she moved off him to grab a condom from her purse, he clamped big hands around her waist and rasped, “You’re not going anywhere.”
Though she recognized the alpha male in him; rejoiced in it even, her smile evaporated. However much she might want to grind herself on his bare cock and relieve a little of the ache within, safe sex was paramount.
She refused to acknowledge the fact they’d already slipped up once in that regard. “We need to use protection.”
His eyes burned in the shadows that were barely chased away by a quarter moon sitting high in the heavens. “I’m safe, and I know you are.”
She gasped. “You had someone look into my medical records?”
His jaw clenched. “You want me to pretend I didn’t? I’m no Boy Scout, you know that.”
She didn’t have the strength of will right now to argue. In anyone’s eyes, what he’d done had been wrong. But then, he’d probably done plenty of wrong in the past to get to where he was in the corporate world. He was clearly a man willing to fight dirty for what or who he wanted.
Damn it all to hell if that didn’t turn her on all the more!
His stare holding hers, he rubbed his thumb along her damp thong, intensifying her needs until she was moaning and writhing against him, and every one of her good intentions dissolved like mist in the desert.
With an aroused and self-satisfied smile, he dragged the lacy material of her thong to one side. Lifting his hips, he clamped hold of his shaft and rubbed its head over her clit.
Her breath hissed as electricity sizzled through her nerve endings. “Fuck. You. Blaine,” she moaned.
He wasn’t playing fair and he knew it. It didn’t stop his smirk, didn’t stop the repressed need darkening his face. “I believe that’s exactly what we’re doing.”
She closed her eyes and threw her head back, clutching at his shoulders as he stimulated her sex so thoroughly, she was all too quickly climbing toward a toe-curling climax that would soon leave her convulsing with pleasure.
He dragged down her bustier with his free hand, exposing her breasts. At the wet, warm pull of his mouth on her flesh, she whimpered, way past caring about anything but having him inside her.
He suckled, licked and nipped each breast, even as he continued to rhythmically press the head of his cock around her vulva. Alternating between soft and hard, fast and slow, and then easing back just seconds before she shuddered with relief.
The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. In fact, she might just die from repressed orgasm…or too much pleasure. Maybe both.
Releasing her breast, he whispered into her ear, “I’m going to keep hold of my cock, and you’re going to impale yourself on me.”
Her breath hissed. She was all but rabid with desire. Beyond caring about anything but pleasure. Beyond the ability to even recall the need for a condom.
Her hands digging into his shoulders, she watched him watching her as she slid ever so slowly down his thick length, her inner muscles greedily clasping his thickness. She had no doubt she shared his dazed expression, and as he sucked in a taut breath, she knew there was nothing better than this oneness with Blaine.
She pressed her lips over his, stealing his breath even while she began to rock up and down, slowly at first, and then with ever-increasing speed. He groaned, his lashes fluttering and his eyes gleaming. She let go of his mouth and pushed her hips forward, grinding her clit against the veined ridges of his cock until everything within her quivered and her dew caused a wet slap with every downward motion.
Blaine grabbed her hips and met her every thrust. She gasped at the intense friction that forced an orgasm to barrel through her like a freight train. As her inner muscles clenched around him, he growled out her name, and in the dim light, his eyes glazed over and his warm seed erupted inside her.
She was still dragging in deep breaths when she leaned her brow against his, staring down into his brilliant eyes. He lifted a hand, tracing her jaw. “You’re amazing.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,”
she said softly.
He kissed her, slow and tenderly, and with more emotion than she’d ever experienced from him before. It made her realize how things were quickly getting too complex, too scarily real.
Because ‘real’ was yet another word not allowed in her world. Fantasy and make-believe was all it’d ever be.
She pulled back and his eyes darkened before he reluctantly released her. Scrambling back into the passenger seat, she adjusted her thong and pushed her skirt back into place.
She didn’t want to know what Blaine was thinking or feeling, though she felt his stare on her long seconds before he leaned over and clipped her seatbelt into place. She repressed a wry smile. He cared about her safety, yet he’d fucked her without protection.
Then again, he would have been one hundred percent sure of them both being clean and her on the pill before he’d put anyone at risk.
He was nothing if not prepared.
As he took to the road once again, she did her best to re-pin her ‘just fucked’ hair into some semblance of a topknot, before reapplying a smear of crimson lipstick. She had no idea where they were going, but Blaine paid good money for her to look her best, and she wouldn’t disappoint.
She turned to face him, approving the way his white dress shirt contrasted with his inky black hair and golden skin. Admiring even more how their lovemaking had somehow only enhanced his appeal. “Should I ask now where you’re taking me?”
He cocked a brow. “Dinner at a lovely Italian restaurant. But not before you meet someone.”
She frowned. That was highly irregular. A function or large gathering meant she could be friendly while maintaining a professional distance. But someone singular implied an affection or closeness to Blaine that didn’t sit right with her. “Oh?”
“I think you’ll like her.”
Brandy’s mind whirled. “Her?”
He nodded. “My mother.”
What. The. Actual. Fuck. He was making things way too personal. “That’s not a good idea.”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel when he asked, “You accept money for sex. How bad can it be to get paid to socialize?”
Her face heated even as hurt bit deep. It wasn’t what she’d meant and he damn well knew it. He was crossing a line in the sand by introducing her to a family member. “You know my skill at socializing is second to none,” she said stiffly. She had to be poised when clients mixed business with pleasure. “What I’m not so skilled at is meeting a client’s family and giving them the mistaken impression I’m a girlfriend.”
“Who says it’s mistaken?” he asked savagely. When she turned to him with wide eyes, he scraped a hand through his hair and said wearily, “We both know that what we have between us is more than call girl and client.”
Exactly the reason she wouldn’t be seeing him again after tonight. But she wasn’t going to tell him that right now. Not with things getting so serious. She’d survived in the industry by using her wits and trusting her instincts. She’d go along with his wishes for now. It didn’t mean she’d give him false hope. “You’re not the first client to think that way,” she said gently.
“Maybe not,” he grated. “But I’m betting I’m the first client you’ve returned feelings for.”
She turned away, her heart rate flailing even as he exhaled with harsh satisfaction.
She’d be the first to admit her self-assurance sky-rocketed knowing men paid for the privilege of her company. But she’d never expected to develop feelings for a man, or worse, for a man to become so obsessed with her. But she had to put a stop to this…illusion between them before it escalated.
She turned to him and asked silkily, “Does your mother know I’m a whore?”
He flinched. “Is that how you want her to see you?”
“No matter how much you try and pretty it up, I screw men for money.”
His breath hissed. “You also have a beautiful pussy that I love to lick and fuck. But I’m never going to call it a cunt.” He looked at her, really looked. “I wouldn’t belittle you like that.”
She swallowed hard. He wasn’t going to give her up without a fight, and right now, she had no idea how she was going to break the news to him that she intended to end their arrangement, once and for all, how she should have already terminated things between them before they’d gotten this far.
He indicated a few minutes later. Turning onto another road, his car headlights revealed what appeared to be a new housing estate. He glanced her way. “It’s completely up to you if you want to tell my mother about your occupation.”
“And you’d be okay with that?”
It wasn’t dark enough to hide his frown. “You know I’m not ashamed of who you are.”
And yet it was obvious something actually did bother him about her career choice. She sighed. She shouldn’t feel so deflated. Ninety-nine percent of the population would probably be bothered by it.
She turned to him. “It doesn’t really matter what I think. What I know is that your mother wouldn’t care to hear that her son wants to be with me. At least, not once she uncovers the real me.”
He slowed the car and sent her a long look. She let loose with a weary sigh. “I am what I am. I’m not going to go out of my way to change someone’s opinion of me.”
He looked ahead, his jaw tight and his voice flat. “You love your work that much?”
She blinked. “Yeah. I do.” How could she not love financial independence and security? Not to mention physical stimulation and satisfaction with clients she knew and trusted. But even as she affirmed it out loud, she wondered privately if the gloss had started to wear off just a little.
“Kate, I…”
“I’m not Kate,” she said sharply. “Brandy is my working name, and right now I am working. You’re my client. Nothing more.”
The glow of dash lights showed a muscle in his jaw flicker. “Of course I am. Thank you for the reminder.”
Chapter Six
‡
Brandy had worked through many difficult times as an escort, and yet she was left feeling undone by the taut silence filling the sedan as Blaine pulled into the red-paved driveway of a brick home with a gorgeously manicured lawn.
He cut the engine and headlights. About to open his door and climb out, she put a hand on his arm. “Blaine, I don’t want us to fight…”
“Let’s just get through the next half hour with some level of graciousness, hmm.”
She blinked, startled by his terseness. Shit. She’d allowed her personal feelings to intrude on the job. Blaine was supposed to be enjoying himself, not regretting the decision to spend good money to be with her.
Perhaps it’s for the best, a little voice interjected.
She lifted her chin. She’d never left a client dissatisfied, and she wasn’t about to start now. Especially not with the one man who treated her more like a princess than a paid escort.
Blaine opened the passenger door and she accepted his proffered hand before climbing out. She smiled weakly. Even when he was displeased with her, he was still a gentleman, still a man worth his weight in gold.
It wasn’t until they stood at his mother’s front door that trepidation began to fill her from the inside out. If this woman was even half as smart as her son, she’d perceive something wasn’t right between them.
Blaine pressed the doorbell, and the door swung open to an elegant woman dressed in a white shift dress, her short-styled dark hair running to gray. She smiled at them, exuding warmth even as she scolded Blaine.
“You know you don’t have to knock on my door.” She stepped toward him to claim a hug, before withdrawing to take a good look at Brandy. “And who is this gorgeous girl?”
Blaine turned to her, and Brandy froze with sudden indecision. There was a reason that call girls never met family members. She felt like a deer caught in headlights. Then she released a taut breath, smiled and said, “I’m…Kate.”
The older woman returned her smile. “Kate, I’m Elain
e. It’s lovely to finally meet you.”
So Elaine had heard about her then? She had doubts that Blaine would have brought her name up in a conversation, for obvious reasons. But it was easy enough for the paparazzi, or even acquaintances, to notice whether Blaine had the same woman on his arm at different functions.
Giving herself no more time to second-guess everything, she dipped her head and said, “Lovely to meet you, too.”
Elaine stepped aside and swept out a pale hand. “Please, come in.”
The house was lovely. White walls mixed with bright splashes of color in cushions, throws and furnishings. Minimalist yet far from boring. But it was the photos on the walls that Kate tried her best not to show interest in.
Particularly the black-and-white photo of Blaine as a young boy—she could see it was him because of his intense, bright eyes—and the man standing beside him, who had to be his father. There were too many physical similarities.
Even as a rather scrawny eleven or twelve year-old boy, Blaine was growing into a man who’d soon turn heads. He held up a decent-sized fish in one hand, and a fishing rod in the other. And though he exuded pride from his catch, she could see the small gap between him and his father might as well have been a hundred-foot chasm.
“I hope you like wine?” Elaine asked as she retrieved glasses from an overhead cupboard in the kitchen.
Kate dragged her attention back to the other woman. She nodded, already feeling at ease. “Wine would be lovely.”
“Great.” Elaine poured them all a glass. “My son is more of a whiskey kind of man, but he tolerates my love of wine on his rare visits.”
“Actually, I’m more of a brandy kind of man these days,” he said smoothly.
Kate kept a straight face, but she wondered if her expression slipped when Elaine asked, “So tell me about yourself, Kate? What do you do for a living?”
Kate felt heat rush to her face before Blaine put his arm around her waist. “Mom please, grilling her already?”
