The Accidental Call Girl (26 page)

‘Don’t fucking well fuss! I’m a grown-up, Lizzie. I can manage on my own, you know. You and Shelley treat me like a little kid sometimes . . . I’m not going to do something stupid.’

But for all his bravado, there was a bleakness in his voice, and that worried her. She’d wanted to suggest that she come home straight away, but even as she’d hinted it, he’d almost bitten her head off again.

‘Look, leave it, will you. Enjoy your fuck-fest. And you take care . . . worry about yourself, not me. I’ll bet you haven’t told him yet, have you?’

The conversation had petered out, leaving her unsettled and still worried about him. Brent just wouldn’t stop beating himself up, after all this time, for the accident he’d believed he’d caused, and the love he’d lost.

I will go back home tomorrow. I will tell John the truth, and return to real life.

But in the meantime, in the hours she had left with him, she’d dive into every possible pleasure she could share with him. She’d give. She’d take. She’d experience everything: the new and the strange, and the familiar, intense sensations she knew he could give her. The sweet succour of his lips, his hands and his marvellous body. The miraculous illusion that she was just as much ‘the one’ for him, as she suspected he’d become for her.

Springing to her feet, she stood listening and heard a shower running, the sound emanating from the open door to John’s bedroom, and the bathroom beyond. He was back, it seemed, no doubt the possessor of this hotel now. Well, she would help him celebrate his success by giving him something else he wanted.

The water teemed down. John tried to keep his mind blank, and to settle into his senses. The flow pattered against his skin in a micro massage, and the scent of the soap he’d cleansed himself with was fresh and heady.

His cock was hard, anticipating the hand, the lips or the cunt of Bettie . . . or perhaps the snug embrace of her arse.

Oh, my beautiful girl, I know you’ll be heavenly.

He imagined her wriggling against him, her body a-tremble as she rode the disturbing sensations that had to be sailed through to reach the shores of delicious, dark pleasure, and forbidden intensity. There was always that frantic moment, no matter how familiar the act was.

Taking himself in hand, he shuddered, suddenly back with Benjamin, that last time, in the grip of that moment of dangerous, terrible thrill when the nerve-endings inside sent messages of panic zipping around the body. He’d been scared that time, unsure whether he could tolerate it after what had happened since they’d last been together, but his friend had made it beautiful for him . . . just as he was going to make it beautiful for the woman sharing his suite.

‘Bettie,’ he gasped, the rushing water of the shower trickling over his lips as his chest heaved. The urge to masturbate furiously almost overcame him, but he resisted it, wanting to save himself for her. ‘Bettie . . .’

As if summoned, she appeared, her shapely form distinct through the frosted glass of the cubicle, skin creamy, curves delicate, dark hair fastened up in some kind of loose knot, the triangle of her pubic patch just as dark, a stark siren call to his aching penis.

Sliding back the shower door a little, she asked, ‘Can I come in?’

He laughed in the pounding water. ‘I’ll think about it . . .’ Reaching out, he opened the panel wider, to admit her, then drew her by the arm into the cocoon of steam and moisture. ‘There . . . I’ve thought about it.’ With an arm already around her waist, he slid the shower door closed to contain them.

As if they’d showered together a thousand times, their bodies came together, wet, naked skin pressing against wet, naked skin. The points of her nipples were as hard as his cock felt to him. Her mons pubis brushed against his aching flesh, a soft caress to his rigidity. He closed his hands around the smooth, resilient lobes of her buttocks, loving their firmness, irresistibly drawn to the warm groove between them, pressing in with his fingers to tickle her anus.

A little moan escaped her lips and she rocked herself against him, rubbing him and enticing him. Whether it was an automatic response or deliberate provocation, he really didn’t care. It just felt sublime. He pressed harder, rubbing and probing at the little vent, smiling against her haphazardly contained hair when she worked herself harder against his length, panting and making eager little sounds.

‘God, you feel lovely, Bettie.’ He kissed her brow, her cheek, then her throat. ‘Are you going to give me what I want?’ He poised his fingertip against her rear entrance, gently pressing.

‘Hell yes,’ she panted, ‘I want it too. But there’s stuff I need to tell you first, John. Important stuff.’ She was shaking in his hold, and he wasn’t sure how much of it was to do with the prospect of anal sex. He
knew
what it was that was making her tremble. It was the moment of truth, or one of them, and he wanted to tell her that none of it mattered to him, one way or the other. She was a jewel to him, escort or otherwise. He didn’t care about the money. Just her.

‘What is it, Bettie? You can tell me. You can tell me anything.’ He stroked her, fondling her rudely. He knew that perhaps he should just draw her out of the shower, bundle her in a robe, and sit her down for a proper talk. But he simply couldn’t stop touching her.

‘You might not like it,’ she said, her mouth against his neck now.

‘Let me be the judge of that. I can’t think of anything about you that I could possibly not like.’ True. So true.

She looked up at him. Her eyes were huge and dark, alight with lust, but shadowed with apprehension too. He bent to kiss her quickly, to reassure her.

‘OK, then,’ she said, still looking him in the eye when he lifted his face from hers. Her bravery thrilled him just as much as the warm, wet skin of her body against his. ‘But the first thing . . . really. My name isn’t really “Bettie”.’

It wasn’t a surprise. The name went with the style. It stood to reason it was as manufactured as her homage to the famous 1950s glamour star.

‘So, mystery woman, what
is
your name, then?’ He kept on stroking her, and she drew a sharp little breath.

‘Well, I am an “Elizabeth” . . . but people call me “Lizzie”, not Bettie. The Bettie thing is just a joke, because I look a bit like her.’

Lizzie. He tried it in his mind before on his lips.

Lizzie. It was cute, spikey, pert; just like her. In the blink of an eye, he knew he liked it. He liked real Lizzie even more than he’d liked the performance that was Bettie.

‘It suits you . . . Lizzie . . . I’m sure I’ll soon get used to it.’ Her hair was tumbling from its up-do and he smoothed the wayward black strands from her face. ‘What else have you got to tell me? What other dramatic revelations are there?’

Now she did look away, but only for a moment. He felt her brace up in his arms, her spine straightening. She was ready to face the music.

‘I’m . . . um . . . I’m not really a call girl, John. I’m not an escort. I never have been. I’ve never taken money. Well, at least not from anybody but you.’ She pursed her lips, and he could see her mind working, whirling. ‘And I’ll give you back all you’ve given to me . . . well, most of it. I have spent a bit of it. But if you give me time, I’ll pay that back too.’

Abandoning his teasing touch, he enfolded her in his arms, hugging her in the water. ‘Bett . . . Sorry, Lizzie . . . I
know
you’re not an escort. I’ve suspected you weren’t a real pro for a while, but when you told me your address I had my people do some checking. I carried on with the game because
you
seemed to be enjoying it.’

She struggled wildly in his grasp, thumping him on the back, quite hard. ‘You beast! You’ve been playing me for a fool!’ Still beating at him, she shifted her weight, almost as if she were about to knee him in the groin.

‘No, not a fool! A sharp, clever, daring woman, not afraid to do something crazy to get out of the daily routine.’ He hugged her harder. ‘A beautiful, sensual woman, with the guts to take on a kinky bastard like me in order to broaden her sexual horizons.’

He felt her stiffen, as if bracing herself for another onslaught, then she went soft in his arms, pliant against him, her belly pressed to his raging hard-on.

And she laughed, rocking against him now, shaking with mirth.

‘You
are
a kinky bastard. And an insufferable arrogant git. I should walk out right now,
and
take all your horrible money with me, for stringing me along.’ A pang of sudden unhappiness shot through him, fear that she meant it, but then she reached down and grasped his still rigid cock, cradling it in a way that was both delicious and vaguely menacing. ‘But seeing as you’re such a colossally amazing fuck, I might just let you off . . . and I’ll stay a while.’ She paused, her thumb stroking the groove beneath his glans, slowly, tantalisingly. ‘I need to pay that money back, though . . . otherwise I
am
really a whore, aren’t I?’

‘Can we discuss the financial details later?’ He slid his hands down to her bottom again. Two could play at the distraction game. He settled his fingertips once more against her anus. ‘I don’t think my negotiating skills will be at their sharpest right now. The blood that should be refreshing my brain cells seems to have settled elsewhere.’ Stroking her as she stroked him, he rocked his hips, pushing his erection through her cradling fingers.

‘All right. But I mean it, you know.’ She shimmied against him, and he could feel the musculature of her arse flexing and tightening as if she were trying to entice his searching fingertips.

‘I know you do. But for the moment, I’d rather focus on one of our other bargains.’ He pushed his finger hard against her rear vent, testing the muscle ring. ‘You know which one.’

‘I’ve never had anal sex before. That’s why I needed to tell you. An accomplished call girl has probably done anal hundreds of times . . . but I haven’t.’ She was nervous, he could tell, but from the way she paused, and breathed deeply, he knew she was trying to relax herself and let his finger in. ‘I’m a virgin back there.’

Something atavistic in him stirred. Something primal. He’d never have expected a woman her age to be a virgin, even if they’d met under the most normal of circumstances, but he experienced a strangely chest-beating, he-man thrill to know he’d be her first, in this one thing at least.

‘Good.’ He pushed a little harder, but she was tense. Standing here in the shower wasn’t the way to do things. He needed to make it easy for her, as comfortable as possible.

And yet, as he pictured himself looming over her, about to push in, his imagination presented her bottom to him as rosy, freshly spanked, and his cock kicked hard in her fingers. Kinky bastard, indeed.

Biting his lip, he centred himself, breathing deeply. Did she sense his hair-trigger readiness? Her hold on him now was light as a feather, as if she did.

‘Let’s get out of this water, shall we?’ he suggested, reaching to turn off the flow. ‘Let’s get comfy and then we can have some naughty, forbidden fun. You’ll love it, I can promise you. Take it from someone who still remembers what it’s like to have a cock in his arse.’ With Benjamin, it
had
been good. It
had
been pleasure.

‘You’re a filthy devil, you are,’ she growled at him, but she was smiling as they stepped out of the cubicle.

*

Lizzie smiled, but her heart was pounding and she felt as if she might fly apart at any moment. She’d told John, and he was OK with it. He still wanted her, at least for the moment.

Of course he fucking wants you, you nincompoop! You’re about to let him put his dick in your arse. He’s hardly likely to tell you not to darken his doorstep any more, when anal sex is on offer any minute, is he?

‘What are you laughing at, Miss Lizzie?’ he demanded, then pulled her close again for a deep hard kiss, body to body, his cock boring into her belly.

‘Nothing,’ she demurred when they broke apart again. ‘I thought you might tell me to piss off when you found out I wasn’t really an escort . . . but then I realised no man in his right mind would turn down anal sex first.’

He smiled down at her, water dripping from his curly hair where it dangled across his brow. ‘Even if I weren’t about to plunder your luscious bum I wouldn’t tell you to go. We’re having a good time, aren’t we?’ His eyes glittered. There was good humour there, but, was there something else? Perhaps not. ‘We’re two grown-ups who enjoy each other’s bodies and both like a bit of kinky fun.’ Reaching up, he swept the wet hair out of his eyes, then did the same for her, where strands were plastered to her face. ‘And don’t worry about money. I always give presents to people I like and I like you, Lizzie. So there’s an end of it.’

She ran her hands down his body, savouring his hot, wet skin. ‘So, we’re like temporary sex friends now, instead of punter and escort?’

He paused for half a beat. ‘Well, yes, I suppose that’s a good way to put it . . . temporary sex friends. Yes, I like that . . . Do you?’

It sounded stupid, and she wished she’d never said it. But she could hardly tell him she might have fallen in love with him after just a few days of spanking and fucking, could she? That was infinitely more stupid. Even if it was the truth!

‘Yes. Now shall we get on? Where . . . where do you want me?’

John glanced around the bathroom, his eyes lighting on the fluffy deep-piled bath rug and the heaped piles of fresh towels and bath sheets. ‘There,’ he said, pointing to the soft, thick rug, then flashing a wickedly saturnine grin at her. He looked like the very devil. ‘I want you doggie style on that rug, with your beautiful bottom in the air all ready for me.’ He gripped her buttocks hard, fingertips in the crease. ‘And I’d like to spank you a little bit first. I want to see your bum cheeks pink as I push in.’

Lust surged in her belly. Lust and a delicious, roiling apprehension, imagining herself presented to him thus, rude and available, marked by his hand. She looked into his eyes, and the grin was gone now. Not the humour, that was still there, but his expression was more fiery now, resolute. Masterful.