My fingers hold him upright, perpendicular to his torso, as I roll the condom over his proud length. No sooner is he encased in the protective sheath then I follow with my own steaming, moist enclosure.
Despite his earlier fears, I am well aware of every inch of his cock my pussy swallows. I cry out as a blast of pleasure stabs my belly when I’m seated on his upper thighs, his hard-on embedded fully inside me.
He’s moaning, urging me to move, but I’m afraid I’ll come on the spot.
When I don’t respond, he slaps my ass. The sting propels me forward, stroking my clit on the pad of muscle above his pelvic bone. Now that I’ve had a taste of the scrumptious friction, I have to have more. I tuck the tops of my pointed feet on the insides of his knees for leverage and begin to ride him, using his body to rub me in all the right places, inside and out.
I plant my hands on his chest and swivel my hips in a figure eight that delivers the most sensation to my clit. He attempts to pinch my nipples, aborting the mission when I destroy his coordination and his ability to do anything other than accept my passion. I have plenty for us both.
“Beautiful.” He grunts between the heavy impacts of my full weight bouncing vigorously over him. I should slow down, tease him, drag the rapture out until it hurts.
Except it already does.
I throw my head from side to side, trying to deny the inevitable.
“Don’t.” He slaps my ass again, only worsening my dilemma. “Don’t resist. Take what you need.”
I bite my lip, squeeze my muscles around his bulging erection and grind on his body. Completely out of control. Terrifying. Wondrous. Unstoppable.
Without considering his satisfaction, another first in my loft, I concentrate on the ache in my core, expanding its effects. Intense euphoria washes over me, starting with my pointed toes. It travels up my legs like mercury in a thermometer on the hottest day of the year.
When it hits the apex of my thighs, I scream and shatter.
My eyes fly open in time to watch Rick come apart as he witnesses my abandon. His cock thickens inside me and he fucks upward, his hips arching off the bed to pound every last bit of his shaft into my spasming pussy. I visualize the bursts of his come filling the condom buried in my pussy a moment before I collapse onto his heaving chest.
He wraps one arm around my waist and flips us. We come to rest with my head on the pillows, fully sprawled on the mattress. He peers into the rubble of my loose smile. Finally relief. Where nothing else has helped, finally, finally, I’m free of the burning arousal that’s haunted me for two weeks. Until he withdraws to dispose of his rubber. The exit of his persistent, semi-hard cock triggers a rebirth of fresh awareness.
I miss his presence deep inside me.
“Damn it.” The fire in my gut hasn’t been extinguished by the flood of rapture Rick instigated. Merely appeased for a brief moment. I long for the ultimate satisfaction that had melted my bones on Christmas Eve. “What the hell is wrong with me? It must be hormones.”
“If that’s what you want to call it.” He tugs on his cock, which still refuses to turn completely flaccid. Another first. Can he sense the lingering sparks arcing between us?
“Did you just roll your eyes at me, Rick?”
“Fuck yes.”
“How old are you?” I can’t help the nervous giggle that escapes. My head crashes onto his shoulder when he settles beside me. It’s not all amusement though. What is he feeling? Was it fantastic for him? Good enough to crave seconds or did my rough ride leave him unsatisfied too?
He destroys my insight and instinct. Disorienting.
“Twenty-eight.” His serious tone sobers me pretty damn quick. “How old are you,
Sarah
?”
A shudder runs down my spine when he breaks out my legal name. A gift I’ve given only to him in all my time as a sex worker. “Twenty-five.”
“So young.” His cock stirs against my inner thigh. Could he be as unfulfilled by our quick fuck as I am? The hundreds of other times we’ve indulged have done just fine for us both. Something has changed. It’s the end of an era.
Could it be the beginning of another?
I bite my lip as I raise my head to gaze into his eyes, a million questions stirring in my mind.
“I don’t know the answers,” he whispers. “All I know is I need more. Of you. More than a fifteen-minute budget quickie.”
He sucks my lip into his mouth, soothing the spot I’d chewed.
This time his assault is borne of tenderness. The difference terrifies me.
I try to break from his hold, but he fuses his lips to mine, stealing a full-mouth kiss. A delicacy I never indulge in with customers.
I whimper, attempting to turn my head to avoid the overwhelming desire for more than his body, which threatens to leave me vulnerable, exposed. He doesn’t supply an opportunity to indulge my instinctive reaction.
Rick pursues my lips no matter how I angle my face, slipping his tongue into my mouth when I open my jaw to protest. I fight harder, trying to buck him from on top of me, but he’s too large. He adjusts his bulk to secure my position beneath him while he plunders my mouth.
All I have to do is scream and it’ll be over. Prostitutes are well protected here. My neighbors will hit their panic buttons and the police stationed in the small district outside will arrive within half a minute.
But I can’t make a single peep.
Don’t want to. Not really.
I force myself to go lax in his hold, every muscle turning limp and loose as they usually are after we fuck.
The change has him backing off, searching my eyes with a beam of hope and longing.
I’m desperate to be the woman he seeks. Without discussing it first, making sure we’re on the same page, I’m afraid to hand over my entire being. Does he realize the power he has over all of me, not just my physical form?
“Stop, Rick. You’re asking for more than I can give.”
“Can or will?” His raspy panting buffets my face, washing me with the scent of his favorite wintergreen gum. “You’re running, love. I thought you were tougher than this.”
He captures my mouth once again, tempting me to cave, seducing me with gentle licks and caresses that are a lot more likely to injure me than the brute force I’m used to on occasion. This is something entirely new. Petrifying. His thumbs caress my skittering pulse in my wrists. My resistance melts, allowing me to indulge in the surrender of my will to his. For a moment.
Then I bite his lip hard enough to ensure he jerks with a curse.
“Are you really planning to force yourself on me when I’ve said no?” My dreams begin to shrivel and die.
“I’ve paid for this goddamn half-hour. I intend to get my money’s worth.”
I flinch as though he smacked me. A bitch slap would have been kinder.
“Exactly what I feared.” Who is this man and what has he done with my sunshine? The dangerous game we’ve been playing backfires, sending shrapnel through my chest. My heart turns brittle and cracks beneath the blow.
A single tear leaks from the corner of my eye.
The droplet acts like a magic elixir, instantly transforming the demanding monster on top of me into my softhearted bad boy.
“Oh Christ.” He crashes to his side on the mattress, his ribs expanding beneath the force of labored breaths. “What the fuck am I doing? You’re driving me insane, I swear. I can’t erase you from my mind. I smell you in my bed, on my sheets, my pillow. I can’t settle for less than everything. I’ve turned into some obsessed stalker.”
His muscles bunch as though he prepares to leap from my loft. I lay my palm on his cheek, preventing him from fleeing.
“I’m
so
fucking sorry. I would never hurt you, Sarah.” He reaches for me but stops halfway, as though he doesn’t trust himself. “Except I already have. At least twice tonight.”
Fuck that. I burrow against his chest, wrapping my arm around his waist to stroke his trembling shoulders. “It’s not in your nature to harm another human being, especially not a woman. You’re a protector. Not a raider.”
“I almost… You have no idea how badly I want you.”
“Believe me.” I install enough distance between us to allow him a glimpse of the desperation in my gaze. “I do.”
He rolls, swinging to his feet, slapping a hand on the dresser when his balance suffers from our dizzying exchange. “So we’re right back to where we were.”
“I don’t think so.” I scoot off the mattress and step into my clothes. Where the hell are my boots? I have to examine his eyes up close.
He trundles down the stairs and lingers by the door, staring at the cash on the table.
“You’re right. Things are
worse
than before. Because it didn’t help. Fucking. Like this. It will never suffice.” He closes his eyes as he shrugs on his jacket. I tuck the money from the table into his pocket. The first refund I’ve ever given.
Dane’s advice floats into my mind. “You can buy sex, Rick. But you can’t buy love.”
“No shit. You prove that every day. Hell, we confirmed it tonight, didn’t we?”
“We did.” I grimace.
“So now what?” His skull clunks on the glass of my window. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to talk to you here. For once, I wish I’d been wrong.”
He takes my hand in his and lifts it to his mouth, kissing my knuckles as we scramble for an easy answer where none exists.
“I…” I clear my throat. “I agree, this isn’t the place. Would you still be open to seeing me outside of work?”
I hold my breath.
Fortunately it doesn’t take him more than a millionth of a second to agree. “Fuck yes. Would you do that? Would you…go out with me?”
“Yes.” My heart flutters in my chest. I’ve never been on an official date.
“Where would you like me to take you? Somewhere we can talk.” His fingertips trace the edge of my cheek. “Somewhere special.”
“I’ve been to your apartment. Would it be okay if I had you over to my home? I’ll cook dinner. For you.” I scribble my address on a corner of my ledger then rip it out. At the last second I add my phone number below it.
Rick tucks the information close to his heart in the inside breast pocket of his jacket, checking to make sure the zip is securely fastened before returning his full attention.
“Thank you.” He cups my face between his palms and delivers a kiss that guarantees he understands. I’ve never allowed a customer to know where I live. Certainly have never permitted them inside.
“We’re both off on Mondays. How about then?” I whisper when his gesture trails to butterfly brushes of his lips over mine. I need a few days to beg Mari to teach me how to prepare a meal worthy of the most important night of my life. Besides, neither of us can afford to lose hours during the booming weekend in Amsterdam.
“This is going to be the longest week in the history of the universe.” Rick glides his cheek against mine.
“No, that was a tie between last week and the one before.” I hug him tight. We sigh together when we have to part. “I’m so glad you came back.”
“Me too, Sarah. See you Monday.”
Love Me Tender
A buzzer riots, scaring me half to death.
I’ve never used my houseboat apartment’s kitchen before. At least it was one less room I’d had to declutter to prepare for my guest. I glance around, quadruple checking all my arrangements. Another blast of the insistent timer jolts me into action.
I wrench open the oven then stand there, head tilted, staring. What the heck is pork satay supposed to look like when it’s done? I’ve only ever beheld the finished product, meat and sauce mingled together in a mass of gooey scrumptiousness on a restaurant’s plate. Hints of rich Indonesian culture are sprinkled across Amsterdam, a relic of colonial conquests. The exotic influences are some of my favorites.
I suppose the bubbling liquid in the pot and the chunk of pork emitting juicy steam could be correct. At the last second, I remember to check Mari’s note.
Use the thermometer. When it hits 70°C take the tenderloin out and cover it with aluminum foil until you’re ready to eat.
Right. I rummage in the sack of supplies she gave me as a late Christmas present until I put my hand on something that looks more like an oil gauge on a stick than my idea of a thermometer. A few degrees over, good enough.
Two hand towels from my bathroom serve as makeshift potholders. I slide the roasting pan onto the cooktop then grab the pot handle, intending to slather my sauce over the meat until I read the next line of her instructions.
Do NOT combine the dishes until you serve them.
Damn. Can it truly matter? Better play it safe. I stop the thick concoction just before it spills over the lip. My overcorrection slops some out the side, onto my hand.
My shriek and curses come at the same instant as the ringing doorbell, followed by a louder version of the knock I adore.
“Sarah?” Rick shouts from the deck of the vessel I rent.
I bite my lip and try to tone down my swearing.
I lick the cooled glop from the crook between my thumb and forefinger. Not bad! Then I hurry across the hardwood to admit my visitor. I don’t even have time to check out the long curls Mari dressed in my hair before flipping open the door.