by Lizzy Grey
THE BIRTHDAY PRESENT
BY
LIZZY GREY
THE BIRTHDAY PRESENT
Lizzy Grey
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Birthday Present
Copyright © Lizzy Grey 2017
Cover Design by Melody Simmons of eBookindiecovers
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Recovered from a heart transplant operation, thirty-year-old Freya Thompson is desperate to be rid of her embarrassing virginity and is given a birthday present like no other. A male escort will take her virginity and she can then carry on with the life the new heart has given her.
But ‘Samantha’ isn’t prepared for ‘Simon’ – tall, brown-haired, blue-eyed and gorgeous. But even more important than that, he isn’t terrified by her huge scar. He doesn’t treat her like a freak, and she finds herself attracted to him. But he’s a male escort, he’d been paid to have sex with her, and she will never see him again. Or will she?
Chapter One
This was a mistake. On the mistakes scale, this was right off the top and flashing bright neon red. Bloody hell, what was she doing? A male escort? Turning around in the hotel foyer, Freya pulled an exaggerated pained expression at her best friends Amanda and Liz who were seated on one of the sofas just inside the entrance. Amanda gave her an encouraging thumbs up and Liz made a ‘keep going’ motion with her hands. Grimacing, Freya turned back and continued on into the bar.
He was seated on a stool at the end of the bar furthest away from the door. Watching him for a moment, Freya was relieved to see that the man she saw matched the photograph on the escort company’s website.
“Ta-da!” Amanda had announced the previous week, swivelling her laptop around on the glass coffee table in her apartment and showing Freya the photograph. “His name is Simon Harrison. He’s thirty-five, and he’s gorgeous. Just look at him.”
“You’re not serious?” Freya gasped. “A male escort?”
“You’re thirty now and still a virgin,” Amanda told her as if she needed reminding.
“Yes, because I’ve been extremely ill.”
“Well, you’re not ill anymore and it’s about time you got out there and started living a life. You can’t live with Mummy and Daddy forever.”
“No,” she had to admit. It was now six months since her life-saving and life-changing heart transplant operation and she really should be thinking about getting a life, the career she’d always wanted in a bank, and leaving home. The prospect scared her but it was high time she started living the life the new heart had given her. “How much does he cost?”
“Never you mind.” Amanda turned the laptop back to face her. “Look, if you don’t want him to de-flower you, I’ll give him a go myself.”
“You’ve got nothing left to de-flower,” Liz muttered.
“But what about my scar?” Freya protested. “It will scare him to death.”
“That’s why we chose an older escort,” Amanda explained. “I’m sure he’s seen a lot worse before.”
“You think? It still scares me when I look at it in the mirror.”
“Do it,” Liz told her. “Because if you don’t, Amanda will only try and persuade Anthony to do it and that would be just a bit too weird.”
Anthony was Amanda’s older brother and was like a brother to Freya and Liz, too. Having sex with him would be borderline incest.
“He’ll be told about your scar,” Amanda assured her.
“Oh, God, I don’t know…”
“One night with a gorgeous man who will relieve you of your virginity and then you’ll be able to find yourself a real boyfriend.” Liz gave her an encouraging smile.
“You’ll come with me, won’t you?” Freya asked, leaning over the coffee table and glancing at the photograph of Simon Harrison again.
“To the hotel, yes.” Liz nodded. “But I think it would be a bit strange if we came to the room to watch.”
“Okay, then.” She sighed, hoping she wouldn’t live to regret it.
Freya stood at the door to the hotel bar, absolutely sure that everyone who glanced at her knew she was only here for sex. Moving to one side to allow a couple to leave, she was able to study the man she was about to have sex with.
Simon Harrison was wearing a black suit with a white open-necked shirt and did seem to be in his mid-to-late thirties. His brown hair was wavy and swept back off his face and she could see light stubble on his cheeks. She had to admit that he was very good-looking but forced the attraction to the back of her mind. They were both here for one thing and one thing only – sex.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she rubbed her sweaty palms together before holding her head up in the most self-assured pose she could muster and approached him.
“Simon?”
Turning, he slid off the bar stool. He was well over six feet tall and she was forced to look up at him.
“Samantha?”
“Yes,” Freya replied, holding out a hand. “Good to meet you.”
“And you.” He shook it warmly. “Can I get you a drink?”
Weren’t they going straight to the hotel room? Was she going to have to sit and make conversation with him? Why couldn’t they just get the sex over and done with?
He was drinking what looked like sparkling water so she opted for the same and he brought her to a table, holding her chair for her as she sat down.
“I’ve never been to this hotel before,” she began, avoiding the ‘Do you come here often?’ cliché.
“It’s had a makeover and they did a good job,” he told her, sitting down opposite her. “The old décor was getting very dated.”
“Oh, I see.” She took a gulp of water and snorted as the bubbles went up her nose. Clearing her throat, she had a second sip and put the glass down. Could this be any more awkward?
“So, you’re a travel agent?” he asked.
What? Is that what Amanda and Liz had told the escort agency? “Yes, I am. Do you travel much?”
“Not as much as I’d like. What about you?”
“No, not really.” She picked up her glass and gulped the rest of the contents down. Please, stop trying to make conversation. Just take me upstairs and get on with it. “I’ve been ill and it was difficult.”
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry. Yes, I was told you’ve been ill.”
“I had a heart transplant.” As you do. “So I’m kind of lucky to be here.”
“Yes. So how are you?” he asked, clearly wondering whether there was a chance she could drop dead in the hotel room.
“Very well, thank you. I had the operation six months ago. I still get a bit tired and I’m on a ridiculous amount of tablets but, I’m fine – apart from the scar. You don’t mind scars?” she added anxiously and he smiled.
“Well, I have to admit that I’ve never seen a heart transplant scar before.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “No, I supp
ose not.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I am curious to see it.”
“Oh,” she replied, wondering how she should respond to that. Oh, God, was he a bit of a weirdo?
“So, shall we..?” He gestured towards the door.
What, now? Her poor heart began to pound as he got up. “Oh. Oh, yes, of course.” Putting her glass down, she reached for her handbag and got to her feet.
Taking her arm, he ushered her from the bar and out into the hotel foyer. She threw a quick glance towards the entrance and saw Amanda and Liz giving her encouraging smiles before she turned away and they walked to the lift. Simon pressed the ‘up’ button and when the doors opened, he led her inside and selected the fifth-floor button. The doors closed and she fought to control her breathing. There’s no going back now.
The doors opened, he brought her out of the lift and along the corridor to room five hundred and three. Letting her arm go, he reached into his jacket’s inside pocket, extracted the key card and inserted it into the slot.
“After you,” he said, as the door swung open.
“Thank you.” She went in, feeling a flicker of disappointment at just how ordinary the room was. The carpet was beige, the bedcovers were beige and so was the furniture and curtains.
“I hope you like beige,” he said, closing the door.
“It is very beige,” she replied, forcing a smile.
“Would you like a drink?” He gestured towards the mini bar.
She should have had a few drinks long before this but it was far too late now. “No, thank you, but you go ahead if you want.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m fine, thanks. Look, Samantha. I know you’re feeling awkward, so if you don’t want to go ahead with this…”
“No.” Without thinking, she’d grabbed his arm and stared down at her hand in horror, before quickly letting him go. “Sorry. No, I do.”
“Okay, but if at any time you want to stop, you just have to say so.”
“I will.”
“Good. Now,” he added in a lighter tone. “Can I see your scar?”
Putting her handbag on a chair beside the door to the ensuite bathroom, she reached under her arm for the zip of her black dress and slowly lowered it. Sliding the dress down and off her arms, she let it fall to the floor and stepped out of it. He could only be horrified by the scar which extended from just above her navel to her cleavage and completely detracted from the black bra, panties and stay-up stockings ensemble Amanda and Liz had persuaded her to wear. His eyes widened a little and she cringed.
“It’s horrible, I know, I’m sorry.” Bending down, she reached for her dress.
“No.” She felt a hand on her shoulder and she straightened up. “No, it’s not horrible. Let me see.” She stood while he ran a forefinger down the scar until it reached her bra. “Can I undo it?” he asked and she nodded, feeling his hands at the hooks and eyes. The bra opened and he slid it gently down her arms before dropping it onto the chair. His finger returned to the scar and he traced it all the way down between her breasts. “I have a scar, as well, but it’s a bit pathetic – appendix – when I was twelve.”
“Can I see?”
Nodding, he opened his suit jacket and shrugged it off before laying it on the arm of the chair. He opened his shirt buttons, then undid his trousers, and showed her the small scar. “You can touch it if you like?”
She smiled and ran her own forefinger along his scar. “Did it hurt?”
“Well, it almost burst so, yes. But it must have been nothing compared to this.” He touched her own scar between her breasts again, before sliding his hand under her left breast and running a thumb over the nipple. It sent an electric shock through Freya’s body and she gasped, feeling blood rushing to her face. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said softly. “Touch me, if you want?”
“Okay.” Pushing his shirt off his shoulders, he let it drop to the floor and she felt him watch her hands exploring his chest. He clearly worked out as his pectoral muscles were toned and she encircled his nipples with her fingers, fighting an urge to lick them, before tracing a line of hair down to his waist. “Can I?” she whispered, indicating his trousers, and he nodded. She pushed them down, uncovering white boxer shorts and pushed them down, too. His cock, springing out of the boxer shorts, startled her. Bloody hell, he was hard already. How? She didn’t exactly have a supermodel’s body. Her mouth formed a questioning ‘O’ as she looked from it up to his face.
“You did this,” he told her, taking her hand and running her fingers along its length. It was flattering to be told that but, no doubt, he said it to every woman he slept with. “There’s just something about a beautiful woman in stockings. Sit in the chair.”
She did as she was told, sitting on top of his clothes and he knelt down reaching for her panties. Lifting her hips, he eased them down her legs and over her black high heeled court shoes before gently easing her legs apart. Oh, God. She tried to swallow but her mouth was dry as he bent forward.
Feeling his warm breath on her pussy lips, she sucked in her own breath, as his tongue pushed between them and began to explore. Another electric shock began shooting through her body as he licked then sucked strongly on her clit and it began to throb. Her hips started thrusting into his face of their own accord but he just kept sucking. Fuck. This was just too much, too intense. Her back arched violently and he was forced to hold her down as she moaned and then yelled incoherently before collapsing back onto the chair, panting, her body drained.
When she opened her eyes, he was kneeling on one knee, watching her. His erection seemed even bigger and he looked from her down to it and then back up at her, clearly noting her interest.
“Are you okay?” he asked and she nodded.
“Did I hurt you? I think I might have pulled your hair.”
“No.” He lowered his eyes and she followed them. Her legs were still wide open and she found herself not caring, just wanting him inside her. “But I need to do something with my cock,” he added, stroking its length. “Want to help me?”
“Yes.” She dragged her eyes away from it and he smiled.
“Good. Take those shoes off but leave the stocking on.”
So he liked stockings, did he? “Okay.” She slipped the shoes off before getting up, her clit still throbbing and hoping her legs would hold her. They did, and he picked up his jacket, taking a packet of condoms out of the inside pocket. Extracting one, and opening the foil package, he turned around so she could see exactly what he was doing. He rolled the condom on before pinching room into the tip. “Shall I..?” She motioned to the bed and he nodded. Without pulling back the bedcovers, she climbed onto the bed and lay down. Following her, he propped himself up on an elbow before leaning over her.
Expecting him to kiss her large breasts, she was astonished when he kissed the length of her scar first then licked and pulled at her nipples. Giving a little grunt, he lifted himself over her and she opened her legs for him. He lowered himself so his weight rested on his forearms before settling between her thighs, and she felt the tip of his cock resting against the entrance to her pussy.
“You okay?” he asked and she heard the effort to control himself in his voice.
“Yes.” She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. “Yes, I’m fine.”
He nodded and she felt him press forward, slowly entering her. She tried not to tense but it was impossible not to because he felt enormous. She let out an embarrassingly loud yelp as he pushed further into her and she fought hard to relax and accept the huge cock filling her pussy.
“Sorry,” he whispered and she gave a dismissive shake of her head.
She felt him withdraw a little and push into her again, and then, again and again, pushing further into her each time. She gasped as more electric shocks raced through her body as he continued pulling back and pushing forward, his cock hitting an ultra-sensitive spot deep inside her pussy. He was breathing heavily now, his eyes closed and his face dr
awn tight with concentration.
“Faster,” she urged, and he began to thrust into her more quickly. An orgasm ripped through her as his cock hit the spot over and over again. He was groaning now and she moved to meet his thrusts before arching her back with a shrill cry as his body stiffened then jerked against hers.
Withdrawing from her, he lay beside her on the bed and all she could hear for a few moments was air being pulled desperately into their lungs.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You sure?” He rolled onto his side, hoisted himself up onto an elbow, and she saw him gazing anxiously down at her. “I didn’t hurt you?”
“No.”
“Good.” His blue eyes travelled down her scar, he seemed to be fascinated by it, and she moved uncomfortably. Well, he had done The Deed and she wasn’t a virgin anymore. Should she go now? Or wait a couple of minutes? “I thought I might have,” he murmured, smoothing his fingers around and over her nipples. They were sensitive and it made her gasp. “You like that.” He smiled and bent his head. He pulled at one with his lips, making her moan and he moved up to her lips.
Freya felt the electric shock pulse through her body again when their lips touched and he slid his tongue inside to caress hers. He explored her mouth gently but thoroughly, she responded hesitantly with her own tongue and he rewarded her with a groan. He pulled away and came back, clasping her top lip between his and running his tongue along the edge. He did the same with the bottom then sucked it grunting softly. She reached for his cock, finding it surprisingly heavy and began rubbing her thumb around and over the tip, just as his fingers had done with her nipples.
“No.” He broke away from her, breathing hard, and got off the bed.
“I’m sorry.” She sat up, blood pumping into her face, as he went to the dressing table and leant heavily on it. What had she done wrong? Had he been paid only to have sex with her once? “I’m really sorry.”