Andy carefully watched his internal debate. She had no doubt what the issue was and no idea what he wanted to do. For her own part, she was a little more ready and willing than she wanted to admit. Straddling him had seemed like a good idea before they were divided by just a tiny slip of lace. Wanting to tempt him without scaring him, she reached down for his hand – the same one she’d held in the bar. Using both of her hands she twined into his fingers and spread his palm wide, then ran her thumbs up the middle together and out over the top. She pressed the soft spot between each finger before tracing the groove up the center again. His hands were the strongest she’d ever felt. After a few more rounds, she brought his palm to her lips and gently kissed the center.
He couldn’t stop himself. He wanted to – even thought about it for a whole heartbeat. She’s not mine. His brain’s protest drowned in the heavy pull of desire. The hand she held cupped her cheek and drew her into a kiss.
Andy’s stomach fluttered, like the floor had just dropped away. His lips were soft; she tasted whiskey and longing in a kiss somehow both cautious and overwhelming. Her mind went blank in a spike of desire and she kissed him back.
Thank God. He wanted her so badly, wanted her to want him; he felt confused and grateful about how she seemed to care for him. It came as a surprise to feel so conflicted – he knew what he was doing when he made the phone call. But then everything about her was surprising.
“Andrea,” he said her name for the first time as his lips touched her neck. It sounded foreign to her, a persona she needed for protection, a secret identity. One foot slid down the length of his calf, curling around his sculpted muscle. If she closed her eyes and felt only through her body, she didn’t need that shield.
“Andy,” she said. “You can call me Andy.”
That suits, he thought. Andrea was the woman he’d expected tonight, Andy was the one who’d arrived: the one who touched his black eye and kissed him without pretense, the one who read science-fiction and made fun of his socks. Around Andy it was okay to be shy, be vulnerable and in pain. Andrea could come and go; it was Andy he was really after.
“Andy,” he whispered, closing over her mouth again.
Her body buzzed like a live wire. He was hot to the touch, searing her skin where they made contact. She drew herself in alongside him, her bare leg slipping over top and resting on his thigh. His hand snaked up her back, underneath his t-shirt.
Vivian giggled. Andy blushed like a schoolgirl as her friend forced her to spell out exactly what she wanted to know. “So how do you…,” she smiled in embarrassment and drained the end of the wine bottle into her glass. “How do you get started?”
Vivian sipped and smiled. “Honey, that part is easy. Maybe an awkward moment or two, but you can just bowl those over. Once you’re horizontal, the rest just happens. It’s not like it’s your first time.”
I know, Andy told herself. It’s just sex.
“Don’t worry about that part. Getting there – the talking and flirting and being coy – that’s harder because you have to read the person, gauge what they want when they might not even know themselves. You have to be a little bit psychic, but if you just go slow and observe you’ll do great.”
“And the rest…,” Andy was still unsure.
“Don’t expect it to rock your world. Though you may rock theirs.”
Now or never, she thought. Once they were past this point there was no way she could lose him. His kiss had gone from unsure to eager, like he was testing the waters and found them warm. He still lay mostly on his stomach, hiding the next step in this dance. As best she could Andy started to slide underneath him.
I can’t, he knew. He couldn’t stop, he couldn’t resist, he couldn’t even make a solid argument anymore for why he should not do this. There was no way to tell if she actually wanted him or just wanted to do her job. He would never know if there was anything about him she genuinely liked. He’d never get the chance to do this honestly, to do it right. She was here, now, but she was already gone. He gave in and met her halfway, bringing himself down gingerly. He was so hard it hurt and there was no keeping it secret as it pressed into her thigh. Andy’s leg fit between his and she slowly twisted her hips, just once, feeling him out.
Wow. Her hands moved over his sides and thighs, the places she hadn’t touched before. Thoughts got sloppy, the walls and fail-safes she’d built crumbled under the weight of his body. She nipped gently at his earlobe, catching it between her lips. He turned into her mouth, tongue exploring as she let him kiss her deeply and returned the favor. Somewhere in a distant corner of her brain an alarm wailed – man overboard! – but she was going down with this ship.
Andy lifted the hem of her top and he took the hint. The t-shirt felt different in his hands as he peeled it away – like it was something exotic or expensive, something worthy of wrapping such a gift. Slowly it revealed the body he’d seen in the bath; the smooth, taut skin of her stomach, the curve and swell of her chest. She helped pull it over her head and tossed it to the floor. His hands roamed the newly discovered land, fingers soft over the lines that defined her stomach and the round underside of her breast. His lips tasted her nipple, gently sucking and flicking the way she’d done to his ear. Judging by her hands on his neck, she enjoyed his efforts.
Wouldn’t she though? Wouldn’t she make me feel like I’m the only guy in the world?
Andy was lost in a delusion of delicious warmth and weight. He took his time, exploring every part of her by touch and taste. They still wore their underwear but it was not doing much to keep them apart. She dragged her hand up his thigh and slipped it between their bodies. He hissed softly, taking in a surprised breath.
Please, please, please, he begged of himself. Don’t go to soon. Don’t ruin this. It took all his willpower not to come at the touch of her hand, at the perfect pressure when she began rolls her fingers over his shorts. So distracted, he forgot to kiss her and when he did, she cheated beneath the waistband and down inside his boxer briefs.
A small moan escaped her lips as she stroked his shaft for the first time. The tension increased tenfold and Andy wondered if she could finish herself off before they even got started, just in case. Would that make him feel wanted? Or unnecessary? She felt that he wanted her to enjoy this, wanted to please her. How could he not when he wanted her so badly? Her body responded easily, writhing against him in time with the motion of her hand. He bit softly into the top of her shoulder. Forget finishing early, she expected he’d be able to take care of her the old-fashioned way.
He’d never been so far gone. His hand raced to her hip and followed the lace of her panties toward the cleft between her legs. She arched her back as he grazed her clit, grinding down onto his hand. In return, she squeezed his cock hard. The tip of one finger ran the length of her slit, coming away hot and wet. A tiny sigh of pleasure came from his throat, feeling her as ready as he was. Surely that could not be a lie. He rubbed harder, added another finger, hooked beneath the fabric and helped himself to the soft, slick folds of her sex. She moaned again.
Holy shit. Andy would have had trouble remembering her name, forget all the complicated reasons that led her to this place. She reached down to cup his balls, earning another small noise. She might come too soon through no effort of her own. With a flick of the wrist she started tugging off his shorts.
Finally. Fucking hell. It was going to take a lot of control he didn’t have to keep from coming the second he was inside her. Even the thought of being inside her was incredible, his fingers currently buried in the sweetest of spots. He shimmied out of his underwear and pushed them away, then for the first time he lifted his body up and away.
She lay haphazardly on the duvet, dark hair tossed around her. Fair, creamy skin glowed like she was an apparition, a mirage he dreamed up in desperation. Pink, pert nipples stood at attention, begging for his mouth. Her delicious lips curled into a sly smile as she watched him, watching her.
“You are incredible,” he said honestly, feeling immense relief just saying it out loud. He had to say something, to let her know he valued her, he cared about more than fucking her and sending her home with a purse full of cash. I bet everyone says that, he thought, but he had to do something.
Go on, she told herself. You really want to help, tell him the truth. “I’ve had a crush on you for years.”
He blushed hard in surprise and ducked his head. His heart sang and his erection pulsed angrily, afraid it was being forgotten. That has to be a line, right? That has to be part of what I’m paying for. But desire is a powerful drug, and he really wanted to believe.
Andy held her breath, unsure if she’d gone too far. They don’t pay to fuck fangirls, Susanna had said. They want something more; something better, smarter, hotter. Andy hoped she hadn’t just ruined what he had come here to find.
His palms flat on her hips rolled panties down and off her thighs. There was nothing more to be said – he didn’t want to hear anything that might force him to face the reality that he could only feel like this if he was willing to buy it. He reached back and dropped the last scrap of clothing that separated them.
The sight of him kneeling over her took that breath Andy had been holding, along with all the other air in her lungs. Chiseled and broad, beautiful beyond anything she’d ever seen and still with a small hint of darkness in his eyes, of despair lingering. The bruise on his face was already deeper. He reached for the nightstand, she took the packet from him and tore away the foil. She stroked him, hand very full, before unrolling the condom along his length.
He waited for it, like bracing for the impact of a big hit you can’t outrun, praying silently that he could get past the beginning, could make his happen. She watched his face; saw him bite his pouty lower lip, saw his eyelashes flutter as her fingers ran down the smooth, thick heft of his cock.
A string of expletives leapt to his mind. He wanted to cry, to faint, to fuck her hand until his brain exploded. When he felt the condom was all the way on, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Her beautiful face, that right dimple still making him want to stare at her for days, looked up at him with a knowing smile. Dear God, he thought as he allowed himself to believe she was looking at him, really him, not a job or a client or a stack of cash. With her hand on his throbbing hard-on and her body promising to fix everything in his world, he let himself go. He chose the lie.
Forbidden fruit, Andy thought. She had never wanted something so badly. Telling herself she shouldn’t want it only made it worse – she would have gone home with him from a bar, from a game, from the fucking supermarket – but it never would have been like this. The distance between them, filled with money and desperation, disappeared with a sonic boom.
Andy pulled his shoulders down, signaling GO!, and they got frantic. He prodded her slick entrance twice with the head of his penis, her heat luxurious even through the thin film he wore. That was all he could handle. With a low, fierce moan, he pressed his cock all the way up into her ripe pussy.
“Yes,” she breathed without thinking. He moved lightly, settling himself inside her, terrified his next move might be his last. It was like breaking open a freshly baked cookie, melted chocolate dripping deliciously: the first bite was always the most dangerous.
“Andy,” he said as he risked a stroke. She held on to his shoulders, muscles rock hard beneath her hands, and let him set the pace. He was extremely hard and extremely big – the dizzying combination rewiring Andy’s brain. Good thing she’d been wet for hours, since he first opened the door.
He tried to regain his senses. Being inside her was even better than he’d anticipated, somehow wetter, hotter, tighter than he’d allowed himself to imagine. The blood in his body beat like a drum, pulsing his dick where it was nestled deep into her. With a big breath, he pumped his hips and slowly began to move. She matched his motion as his hands slid under her ass and lifted her closer.
“Oh God,” she gasped, the angle pushing him down into her with force. She arched her back and ground herself onto him. The temperature in the room had risen a hundred degrees. Andy grabbed his neck and kissed him, hard and long, tongue deep in his mouth as it begged him to do the same to her body.
That is a real kiss, he thought triumphantly. It was too late to turn back now, but at least that part of what was happening was real. He felt victorious as he thrust harder. Andy squeaked in pleasure, the sound passing from her mouth to his. He strove for another gorgeous little noise and he got it. With an arm around her back, he lifted and leaned, until he was kneeling and Andy was sitting on his lap, legs around him. He tilted her back just enough to capture a nipple with his mouth and used his arms and legs to bounce her onto him.
Fucking hell. Andy’s head lolled back as she cupped her breasts and lifted them, offering up to his eager mouth. She pulled her legs in, fitting herself into his lap tightly and taking his strokes as deep as she could. The bicep pressed between her shoulder blades was huge and taut, holding her up easily with heavy confidence. Confidence, she knew. All he needed was a little confidence. Evidently he had found it. His other hand moved across her stomach, tickling her side before raking into the small patch of hair that rubbed against his body.
He flicked his thumb down and grazed her clit. She pinged like a harp string. He did it again and she gasped, he felt her get wetter as he began to massage the nub insistently. A wordless breath sobbed from her lungs.
Please, please, he begged silently. He wanted to satisfy her, to show her that he wasn’t some weak, pathetic sap. It was bad enough he’d gotten his ass kicked in a fight, called an escort service, almost cried when he asked if she had a boyfriend. He had to do something right for her. The idea of the succulent, incredible woman in his arms feeling sorry for him hurt more than anything that happened on the ice. If he’d been capable of swagger, he’d have wanted to amaze her, make her scream his name and see the face of God and be the best she’d ever had, but he didn’t have that bravado in him now. He just wanted her to make that noise again.
What am I doing here? she asked herself distantly. I am now officially a hooker and I’m about to come like a fucking supernova for someone I’ve fantasized about forever. Are you a whore after just one? Or does whore imply multiple guys? I honestly don’t care as long as he keeps touch… omigod.
Andy’s body was nearing a full boil. Her hands were in his hair, holding his face close. She gently kissed the black beneath his eye as he massaged her clit on a deep down-stroke. Her mouth fell open, her arousal peaked. “Harder,” she whispered. He listened, driving his rock-hard rod into her soaking pussy and struggling to hold his hand tight against her front. He didn’t have to wait long – five or six strokes later, Andy made another breathless, silent cry.
Fuck yes, he thought as her body rippled down the length of his dick like it was electrically charged. She writhed in his arms, clutching and pressing as an orgasm beat through her core and passed right to him. When he heard her breath tear away in a quivering shudder, he let go.
Andy felt his arms lock around her as he groaned in pleasure. Long, slow strokes milked her body as he came hard. He pressed them back, dumping her to the mattress and staying on top, snuggling his cock in as far as it could go and pumping himself dry deep within her. The tension released from his body like a dam breaking – he melted into a puddle of satisfaction and relief.
She traced her fingers along his hairline, behind his ear and over his neck. His breathing was even and easy for the first time all night. They stayed still so long she thought he might be sleeping, splayed out and still nestled inside her. I could sleep like this, she thought, settling her head back to do just that. She was drowsy in that shadowy, post-orgasm way that keeps anyone from thinking about what they’ve just done or who they’ve done it with. Andy didn’t want anything to happen, not just now, to ruin this.
He wasn’t asleep. He was inhaling the scent of her body, of her flowered perfume and the smell of her sex – darker, heavier, lusty. Now that she had done her job, he was afraid she’d be done with him. His body felt new, but his head and his heart kept right on stressing. If he didn’t move, didn’t speak, she couldn’t tell him goodbye. Right?
“Andy,” he mumbled. I said I wouldn’t do this…
“Mmm?” she purred into his ear.
“Will you stay the night with me?”
She moved her arm across his back, tying them closer together on the dark sea of the enormous bed. “I’m already sleeping.”