by Brit Lauren
“Okay.” She whispers. I roll over and go back to sleep.
When I wake up in the morning, Lacey’s cheek is pressed against my bare chest and one of her legs is thrown over mine. I have a hard-on. Not because of her, just because. Although her knee sitting three inches from my cock isn’t exactly helping. I know I have no desire to fuck her, but my cock tends to have a mind of it’s own.
I try to extricate myself out from under her, but she stirs and her eyelids flutter.
“Kaden?” She sounds confused.
“Yeah. I need to go piss.” I shift my shoulder and she rolls away from me, pressing her hand to her forehead. I get up and go to the bathroom, taking way longer than necessary to go through my shower, shit and shave routine. With any luck, by the time I step out of here she’d at least have had the decency to leave. No such luck. When I open the door she’s still on my bed, in only her bra and knickers.
She pulls the arm that’s over her eyes away from her face and turns her face towards me. Her make-up has smudged under her eyes making her look part crazy, part panda. Don’t get me wrong, Lacey is pretty and she has a good body, which is very much on display right now. But she wants me too much. I’ve always said I’m not a person who plays games, and I don’t. But there’s something to be said for the chase. I’ve always loved a challenge. Doing what I do, that element is eliminated. If I’m going to fuck someone outside of Recherché then I sure as shit need the rush that I’m missing with my clients that are handed to me on a platter.
She sits up, and pulls her knees to her chest, covering herself. She looks delicate to say the least. “Did we, uh?”
I smirk. “No, drunk and sobbing isn’t my thing.” She looks embarrassed and once again my damn conscience kicks in, making me feel like a shit. “You got into my bed in the middle of the night. I’m not a total dick.” I grab a shirt and a pair of boxers, turning my back to her as I drop the towel around my waist. I still hear her breath hitch, even from across the room. I yank on the boxers and shirt, before pulling a pair of tracksuit bottoms on. “I have to go and see someone. Melissa is in Ethan’s room.”
She says nothing and I scoop my car key and iPod off the chest of drawers before leaving. I need to go to the house and hit the gym.
I lay on my back on the mattress, naked with my hands bound above my head as usual. Every time Melanie does this, it pisses me off a little more. She moves around the bed, unfastening the buttons of her blouse as she goes. Her hair is pulled up in a tight twist and a few stray strands caress the smooth skin at the back of her neck delicately. She slips the silk shirt down her shoulders and allows it to dangle from her finger before she drops it on the floor. Her fingers play over the zip at the small of her back and she bows her spine, sliding the tight material of her pencil skirt over her thighs in a way that has my cock jumping to attention. The lace of her thong outlines her small waist and full arse cheeks perfectly. Or at least it does until she removes that too, followed closely by her bra. When she turns around to face me I have to bite back a groan. I don’t know what it is about her. It’s not like she’s exponentially hotter than any other woman, it’s just the way she carries herself, the way she takes without apology, the way she seamlessly controls the very air around her. She both fascinates me and lures me in with just a look.
I can’t tear my eyes off her as she kneels on the bed and swings a leg over my hips. Her naked body towers above me, her legs spread, showing her pussy, which is hovering only inches from my rock hard cock. She leans forward, brushing her lips against mine so lightly that I grit my teeth with the effort it takes not to push up and kiss her. She’s made it clear where she stands on that, but her lips are right there, so fucking tempting. I yank against the restraints and the material of the tie chafes against my skin.
“Thor tells me all his guys are clean.” She says, wrapping her fingers around my cock and lifting an eyebrow at me. We are, but barebacking is a no fucking go.
I swallow hard and jerk against the restraints again. A smile works across her lips and she works her hand up and down my cock. She lifts up over me and slowly lowers, pressing the head of my cock inside her warm, wet entrance. I should stop her, but I can’t. She feels too fucking good. A choked groan lodges in my throat and I clench my jaw as I throw my head back against the pillow.
I lift my head again, watching as she slides down slowly, watching my expression the whole time. With every groan, every pull on the restraints, every desperate movement, her smile gets a little wider. She likes this, she gets off on this. When she’s taken me all the way, her eyelids flutter shut and a blissful look takes over her face. She squeezes around me, and it’s nothing but tight, wet, warmth. She picks up a rhythm, rolling and grinding her hips over me. She looks like a fucking goddess, riding me, owning me, controlling me so effortlessly. Frustration crawls beneath my skin. My abs tense, and release. My arms ache from pulling on my bindings so hard. But when she throws her head back and thrusts her tits forward, I snap. I want to touch her, I fucking need to touch her. I growl and yank on the restraints so hard that the headboard creaks under the force.
She tips her head forward again and her chin falls to her chest. A tendril of hair comes loose, falling across her forehead. “So impatient.” She purrs, rolling her hips in a teasing motion.
“Fuck!” I spit.
She smiles wider, bending forward and trailing fingers along my arm. “I suppose I could let you go.” Her breath blows over my lips, her fingers caressing the material binding my wrists. “On one condition.” I pitch up, brushing my lips against hers.
“What?” I grate.
Her eyes lock with mine. “Choke me.” She demands, tugging at the slip knot and setting my hands free. The second she does, I grip her throat, skimming my other hand over her waist.
Her eyes lock with mine. “Harder.” Her hips move, and I tighten my grip around her throat, which makes her moan and pick up speed. I grip her hip with my other hand and force her harder over me. “Harder!” She shouts. My fingers flinch into the soft skin of her throat. A long moan falls from her lips and her pussy squeezes my cock. Watching her fall apart, my hand around her neck, her naked body riding mine, it pushes me over the edge. I squeeze her throat even harder, using it to to thrust up and leverage into her. Electricity flies over my skin and my muscles tense before everything releases, exploding outward with so much force that spots blur my vision.
The second she’s done, she gets off me, turning her back. It doesn’t matter what happens between us, how hard she comes or makes me come, the second it’s over, she slips straight back into that cold hard mask, as though reminding me that any vulnerability I may have witnessed was nothing more than a temporary illusion.
I don’t know why the fuck it bothers me. It shouldn’t. In fact, I should be pleased. It makes my job easier. She’s a client, nothing more. And if anything, her behavior does nothing but remind me of that, which is good, right? But my other clients aren’t like her. My other clients see me as the expensive accessory they paid for, they look at me with awe….like I’m the diamonds their husband’s money bought, the top of the range Lamborghini parked on their drive. I don’t mind. They love the Lambo, they covet it, they value it. Melanie Myers treats me like some rent boy who serves a purpose, and it drives me wild. You know what they say, treat them mean, keep them keen. Well, she’s fucking mean, and I’m enthralled by her.
The next week seems to fly by in a rush. Clients, hospital, clients, hospital. I see Melanie twice, and she does as predicted. Both sessions are a repeat of that early week session, she rides me, pushes me, unties me, and then comes as I choke her. She fucking confuses me, and I’m obsessed by her. All I can think about is seeing her next. I constantly wonder what she’s going to do to me next, how hard she’s going to push me. I don’t know why or what it is that she does to me, but I feel like she pushes my buttons, and every time I see her I’m a hairs breath away from snapping. My other clients are simple, they just want a young guy
to show them a good time, but not Melanie. And it’s working out what she wants that intrigues me.
“What about this one?” Penelope breaks into my thoughts.
“Huh?” I look up and see her grinning at me, wearing a massive floppy sun hat on her head.
“Very lady of the manor.” I tell her.
“Well then, I’ll definitely get it.”
I glance across the shop and do a double take when I see Melanie, browsing through racks of dresses. She lifts her gaze and her eyes crash into mine. There’s a moment, an awkward beat where neither of us move. I’m not sure what the etiquette is for this. Do I talk to her? Ignore her? Pretend like I have no idea who she is? And then, because it’s Melanie and she seemingly doesn’t back down from anything, she walks over, swaying her hips in that way that says she owns everything and everyone around her.
“Kaden.” She leans in and kisses my cheek, and even the way her lips brush against my skin has me thinking of her pussy around my cock, my fingers around her throat.
“Melanie.”
Her eyes lock with mine, and the air fills with this weird tension that almost feels possessive. Penelope’s hand on my arm forces me to break eye contact. “Who’s your friend, Kaden?” Again, what the fuck is the protocol for two clients meeting each other?
“This is Melanie. Melanie, this is…”
“His grandmother.” Penelope cuts me off and I have to work very hard to control my expression. My grandmother, really? The only thing worse than a client meeting another client, would be my grandmother meeting a client.
“Penelope.” She holds out her hand and Melanie takes it, her lips twitching in the ghost of a smile.
“A pleasure.” Her eyes shift from Penelope to me, and I wonder if she knows.
“Well, we have a bridge game to get to, Grandma.” I say, inwardly cringing.
“Of course. It was nice seeing you, Kaden.” Her voice is rife with sex and…whatever it is that Melanie has. Dominance?
The second Melanie is out of sight Penelope smacks me round the back of the head. “Grandma!” She shouts before dusting off her shoulders dramatically. “The very word makes me feel diseased.” She shudders.
“You said it, not me!”
She sniffs. “My grandchildren call me Penelope.” She rolls her eyes. “And I wasn’t about to throw you to the wolves in front of a client.” I say nothing. “That one looks a handful.”
I clear my throat. “You have no idea.” I say under my breath.
After shopping I promised I’d play at Penelope’s bridge game tonight. There was one time when she accidentally double booked me with her bridge game, so I just stayed. Now, her friends insist that I come every week. So once a week we do dinner, and once a week we do bridge, sometimes she forces me into shopping. I don’t mind.
When we get back, Nadine has already let Linda and Evelyn in.
“Kaden!” Linda beams when she see’s me. I have to do the rounds, hugging them and letting them kiss my cheek. By the time I’m done I always have lipstick marks all over my cheeks.
Penelope pats the seat next to her. “You and me, my love.” She’s taught me how to play, and I quote; ‘so we can annihilate the competition.’ Not that she’s competitive or anything.
“How’s school Kaden?” Linda asks, dealing out cards.
“Good, thanks.”
“You got a nice lady yet?” Evelyn chirps in. They always ask the same questions.
“I don’t have time for that.” I shake my head on a smile.
She waves me off. “I have a granddaughter…”
I cock an eyebrow and look up at her wrinkled face. “You want to set your granddaughter up with an escort?”
They all start laughing and Pen puts her hand on my arm. “Kaden, my love, there’s no one better than you. I’d set you up with my granddaughter, but she doesn’t deserve you.” I frown. “Plus, you’ll be a doctor soon, and then you’ll be beating them off with a stick.”
“Oh, I bet you already are.” Linda pipes up.
“Well…” Evelyn glances at me, a wicked smile painted on her lips. “If I didn’t think I’d accidentally piss myself…” She winks and Pen starts swatting at her.
“Evelyn Grace!” Evelyn cackles away to herself and I can’t help but laugh. The thing I love about these ladies is that they’re past the point of pretenses and bullshit. Pen once told me that she’s old, so she’s earned the right to say what the fuck she wants. I think it’s true.
“Look, girls, as much as I think you’re all beautiful, I’m a one-woman man.” I grin and put my arm round the back of Pen’s chair.
She rolls her eyes and leans out to the side, pointing at me. “You give over. You’ll give an old woman a heart attack.”
“Ah, but then he might give you mouth to mouth.” Linda says. They all start laughing and I settle in for an arse whooping at Bridge.
A couple of hours later and I’ve well and truly lost. They’re all drunk. Evelyn has passed out on the sofa and her teeth are hanging out. Linda and Pen are dancing to 40’s jazz in the front room. I’m not quite sure when a bridge game turned into an elderly frat party.
“Kaden.” Pen crooks her finger at me and I smile, walking over to her. She holds her arm out for me to dance with her. I take her hand and put the other at the small of her back, holding her tiny frame tightly against my body in case she falls. I spin her across the rug in the middle of her front room. Her head falls back, and she laughs, suddenly looking twenty years younger than she really is. I never knew my grandparents, and my parents are good people, but not like Penelope. She’s that person that everyone wishes were their grandmother. She lights up a room, makes inappropriate comments at the most inappropriate times and just generally lives life to the full.
“I didn’t know you could dance.” She says breathlessly.
“My mum made me take lessons. I hated every minute of it. Until Emery Kyte kissed me behind the stage curtains when I was seven.” I smile. “Then I got a bit more enthusiastic.”
“You were an early ladies man.”
I cock an eyebrow, glancing down at her. “Did you expect anything less?”
She smiles and rests her cheek against my chest as we rock to the music. “No, my dear. I expect you to have the world at your feet.”
The hotel room door clicks open and I turn away from the window to face Kaden.
He’s usually immaculate, his suit perfectly ironed, the knot in his tie exactly symmetrical. Today though, he has no tie, and his normally tidy hair looks as though he literally just stepped out of the shower and dragged a hand through it. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, the small triangle of tanned skin making an appearance. Dark eyes lock onto me, watching and waiting. Kaden is beautiful and with so much potential, but he’s a pleaser. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s an escort, maybe it’s just his age, or perhaps he was just raised to be a good boy. Whatever it is, I’m going to break him, slowly, bit by bit. I see it lurking, just behind his eyes, the ability to become something spectacular.
I approach him and reach out, tracing my nail from his throat to the top button of his shirt. I start to undo the buttons, watching as the pale blue material parts, giving way to smooth, silky skin over tight, hard muscles. I watch his expression as I yank his belt open. His lips press together and his eyes narrow ever so slightly. This is what makes him such an exciting prospect. He likes what I do to him, whilst hating it at the same time. He gives up control to please, until I’m fucking him, pushing him, breaking him…and then he fights it like a caged animal. It’s a beautiful thing to watch, and of course, the more riled he is, the better he is when I finally unleash him. He’s nearly ready. Nearly.
I trail my palm over the smooth, warm skin of his stomach. His eyes shift from my eyes to my lips and back again. I smirk when he leans in and press my index finger against his lips. His lips curl and he cocks a brow incredulously. Yes, he’s so very nearly ready. I thrust my hand in his boxers and wrap a hand ar
ound his cock. His eyes flash and his nostrils flare as I squeeze him hard. I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip, smirking when I see his forearms tense as his fists clench tightly. I can see the internal war written all over his face, and all I want is for him to win, to break free of my commands and act regardless.
I move my hand up and down his cock and he throws his head back, swallowing heavily. The muscles in his neck cord and his Adam’s apple bobs. I release his cock and start to shove his trousers and boxers down when his phone starts ringing in his front pocket.
“Ignore it.” He says in a throaty voice. No sooner has it rung off than it rings again, and again. I’m paying him five grand and he can’t turn his phone off?
I sigh heavily. “Answer it or turn it off.” I snap, turning away from him and placing my hands on my hips.
He picks it up and I ignore his hushed whispers until I feel his fingers trail my arm. “Melanie, I’m so sorry but I have to go.” I turn and see the panic on his face.
I stare at him for a second. “Fine. Go.”
“I’m sorry.” He says, pulling his shirt back on and fastening his trousers. “I’ll see you on Friday?”
“Just go, Kaden.”
He offers me one last regretful look and then he’s gone. There’s a reason I hire escorts, and it’s so I don’t have to deal with let downs or excuses. I expect the service I pay for. That may sound like I’m being a raging bitch, but I am a bitch.
Penelope had a stroke. I can’t quite wrap my head around it, around the concept of Penelope, strong, resilient, fiercely independent Penelope having a stroke.
They’re not allowing anyone but family to see Penelope, but luckily she was taken to St George’s, where I work. Being that I’m a doctor, I can see her whenever I want to. When I step into her room I have to choke back tears. Penelope is old, but she’s always been strong, so full of life and vitality. To see her like this breaks my heart.
