by Claire Kent
But that was absurd. This laid-back sociability was much easier to deal with. And she was pretty sure she would have chickened out if she’d been confronted with any uncomfortable urgency or bewildering angst this evening.
Remembering her manners, she stood up and poured Ander a glass of wine. He accepted it with thanks and sat down in the second chair.
“I wasn’t expecting you to have an opening in your schedule so soon,” Lori said, interested in his availability and also just wanting to make conversation.
Ander hesitated as he sipped his wine. Then he finally said, “I’ve been cutting back a little.”
Lori’s eyes widened. “On your clients, you mean? Why is that?”
His lips tightened, and Lori recognized the shuttered expression. She recognized it very well.
Before he could fob her off with some piece of nonsense, she said, “I ask a lot of questions. I can’t help it. That’s who I am. But don’t get all tense and closed off if I ask something you don’t want to answer. Just tell me to shut up.”
To her relief, Ander’s expression relaxed. “Understood.”
She wasn’t sure why, but she kind of liked the idea that Ander wasn’t seeing as many clients as he used to. She clearly remembered how much she’d disliked seeing him with Sarah at the fund-raiser. “I suppose being a male escort might not be a line of work you want to continue indefinitely. Have you ever thought about switching careers?”
He nodded slowly, his eyes resting on the bed across the room. “Occasionally.”
It wasn’t much of an answer, and it didn’t tell her nearly as much as she wanted to know. But at least he hadn’t told her to shut up. She wanted to push him on this issue, but she made herself hold back. Instead, she moved over to the bed with her wine and stretched out, making herself comfortable since she was pretty sure now she’d want to have sex later on.
She said in a light drawl, “You know what you should be? A sex therapist.”
Obviously taken by surprise, Ander gave an inelegant snort over the rim of his wineglass. “Excuse me?”
“A sex therapist. Just think about how good you were with helping me out. People would line up for sessions from you.”
For a moment Lori held her breath—unsure of Ander’s reaction. It could have gone either way. But then his lips twitched. “There would be an appalling sort of irony to that career choice.”
She grinned. “Or you could do what I suggested before. Do seminars and webinars with instructions on how men can better please women.” Thinking about Phil, her expression transformed into a bitter scowl. “They definitely need the advice.”
Ander arched one eyebrow. “Any particular disappointing experience you’d like to share?”
“Shut up.” Although she’d fixed her scowl on Ander now because of his smug smirk, she wasn’t really annoyed with him. She felt a ridiculous urge to giggle. “Oh, I know! You should write a book.”
Ander shook his head with wry amusement. “If you’re going to suggest I write romance novels—”
“No, no,” she interrupted. “Although I’m sure you’d probably write good ones. I mean you should write a nonfiction book on all you’ve learned about women. It would be a best-seller.”
“The Confessions of a Male Hooker?”
His voice was still amused, but she didn’t like the note of bitterness she detected. “Not like that. I suppose your former profession could be a marketing ploy, but I mean more like a how-to book. I’m serious. You really should write up all the wisdom and insight you have about women and relationships.”
“Wisdom and insight?” Faint skepticism was etched on his handsome features.
Lori straightened up on the bed, frowning at him in annoyance. “How can you be so smug one minute and then so completely oblivious the next? You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. And I’ve never met anyone with the kind of experience with human nature you’ve had. I’m not saying it’s a blessing or that it didn’t come with a price. But you have it. Why not use it?”
His gaze was oddly still. Quiet. “I do use it.”
She made a frustrated noise in her throat. “I meant use it to write a book. Channel it in a different way. I have a lot of contacts in the publishing industry. I can almost guarantee I’d find at least a few editors who’d be interested in giving it a read.”
Ander just looked at her for a full minute, his expression so acutely observant that Lori wanted to squirm. “Are you trying to convert me out of my life of depravity?”
Lori almost sputtered. She hadn’t thought that was what she was doing. She’d just gotten an idea and run with it—the way she always did. “What kind of hypocrite would I be if I was doing that, given how much money I’ve paid you to fuck me? I hope you don’t think I was judging you. I wouldn’t.” She stared down at her wineglass, strangely self-conscious all of a sudden. “You don’t really think I was doing that, do you?”
“Lori,” Ander began, his voice drawing her eyes to his face again. “Sometimes I have no idea what to think of you.”
Not sure whether she’d been complimented or insulted, she gave him a cool glare. “Well, I assure you the feeling is mutual.”
She thought his lip might have given that delicious twitch, but he was still seated in the chair, too far away from the bed to be sure.
“Were you really thinking of leaving the business?” Lori asked at last.
“I never said that. You asked if I ever think about it, and naturally I think about it occasionally.”
“Do you actually find this line of work... satisfying?”
Ander gave a slight shrug. “I’m good at it. I make a lot of money. I set my own terms. I’ve succeeded in...”
When he trailed off, Lori prompted, “Succeeded in what?” Not for the first time, she wondered if Ander was happy. If he was anything close to happy with the life he’d made for himself.
She really didn’t want to judge him—not knowing anything about what had shaped his choices—but she couldn’t imagine that he found life genuinely satisfying allowing his body and even his personhood to be used the way it was.
He shook his head and didn’t answer.
“Was it hard?” Lori asked, letting the questions spill out now that she’d started on the subject she’d been too afraid to ask about before. “The first time, I mean. Was it hard when you started being an escort?”
Ander was silent for a long time as he stared at an empty spot in the air. Then he said, “Shut up, Lori.”
Lori huffed and gave a little flounce of frustration on the bed, but she couldn’t complain or say anything. She was the one who had told Ander to shut her down if she became too nosy.
Watching her pout, Ander chuckled and finished off his wine. He looked a lot more at ease now than he had the last time she’d seen him. She wondered what had changed. What kind of personal resolutions he’d come to. What had allowed him to level off the emotional tension she’d witnessed before.
She still didn’t know what all that emotional tension last month even meant.
There were far too many things about Ander that she didn’t know. And she realized how much she deeply disliked her ignorance. The curiosity she’d always felt about Ander had, for some reason, intensified into a driving need to know.
But Ander clearly wasn’t going to tell her—not even the most basic of answers.
He just sat there, drinking his wine, still laughing softly to himself.
“What are you laughing at?” she demanded, deciding she was annoyed with him for enjoying her frustration, even as mildly as he was.
“Hasn’t anyone told you no before when you pry into their lives?”
“Yes, but usually I’m able to get around that.” She gave Ander an assessing look, trying to figure out what it would take to get him to open up about his secrets, about all the things he refused to tell her.
Ander just chuckled again, as if he knew exactly what she was plotting and knew she didn’t have a chance of
succeeding.
Lori gave a gasp of outrage at his brazen amusement at her expense and impulsively chucked a pillow at him.
It hit him squarely in the chest with a satisfying whoosh.
Ander blinked at her.
Pleased at having taken him by surprise, she threw another pillow at him. This one was aimed even better, and it smacked into his face before flopping in his lap.
Ander made a winded sound and dropped the pillow onto the floor near the first one. “A rather childish entertainment, don’t you think?”
At another time, his dry tone might have smothered her playful impulses, made her feel foolish and young. But she knew he’d pitched his voice to be patronizing on purpose to adjust the playing field in his favor.
She ignored his comment. For the moment she had the upper hand, and she wasn’t about to lose it.
There were six pillows on the bed. She threw another one at him. Again it connected with his face, and he made a huffing sound at the impact.
Then he got to his feet.
Feeling a thrill of excitement, Lori grabbed the other three pillows in preparation.
She hurled another one as he advanced toward the bed. It hit Ander with more force than her other attempts, but her aim wasn’t quite as careful. The pillow hit his groin, making him grunt.
Lori couldn’t hold back a giggle as she prepared for another assault.
To her dismay, Ander caught her next missile and smoothly dropped it into the pile with the others before he reached the side of the bed.
He was smiling now. A new smile. One that was dangerous, almost predatory. It prompted a shudder of excitement along her spine and took her breath away.
She clutched at her last pillow, gripping it desperately as she resisted Ander’s attempts to pull it out of her hands.
“It is unquestionably foolish to begin a battle when you don’t know the full strength of your adversary,” Ander murmured.
“I do know,” Lori insisted, scooting back on the bed a little as Ander loomed threateningly over her.
Then he cheated. He absolutely cheated. He grabbed her ankle and brushed his fingers lightly over the sole of her bare foot.
Her ticklish instinct triggered, she squealed and jerked her foot away.
While she was distracted, Ander smoothly pulled the pillow from her loosened grip.
“Hey!” She stared in mute outrage as Ander added the final pillow to his stash by the table.
Now he had all the pillows. And she didn’t have any.
“That was a cheap shot,” she gritted out, sizing up his position and the distance to the pile of pillows.
“I told you. Without full knowledge of your adversary, you’ll invariably lose the battle.” He smiled at her again, that same predatory smile that seemed almost more natural to him than his ironic one. Until now, she’d never known this side of Ander even existed. “You have no idea how low I’ll stoop to win a challenge.”
It only took Lori a moment to figure out what to do. “You’re right. Well played.” She beamed at him, using her broad, sunny smile in the hopes that it would put him off his guard.
He didn’t drop his guard, but as he gazed down at her, she saw a brief expression in his eyes that was just a little softer than usual.
So she acted.
She reached out and grabbed his crotch, taken aback when she felt he was slightly hard. Pushing past that distraction, she squeezed him there—making sure not to genuinely hurt him.
When he grunted, she slipped past his looming figure and made a dash for the pillows.
She’d almost reached them when she felt a strong arm wrap around her middle, heaving her up until she was slung over one of his shoulders like a bag of grain.
She howled in outrage and flailed her arms and legs. To no avail. Ander’s arm was unyielding as he braced her in position until he reached the bed and unceremoniously dumped her back onto the mattress.
Gasping, flushed, and more excited than was entirely reasonable, Lori said by way of explanation, “You’re not the only one who will stoop low to win.”
“Evidently.”
“That’s what you get for tickling me.” She stuck out her chin to show her determination and her unwillingness to be cowed by his stalking intimidation.
He stood next to the bed and stared down at her. He’d gotten tenser, and the feral, dangerous look was even stronger in his eyes. Every muscle in Lori’s body tightened as she waited in breathless expectation.
She knew he was going to do something. But she had no idea what he would do.
Then he did it.
He grabbed her ankle again and started to tickle her foot. Lori squealed and squirmed, but she couldn’t free herself. Ander was relentless as his strong, skillful hands worked over one foot and then the other. And then started traveling up her calves to the sensitive spots at the back of her knees, pushing up her cashmere pants as he went.
Lori writhed on the bed, overcome with gasping laughter and merciless torment. She tried to resist, tried to pull away and fight his hands. But Ander was as good at tickling as he was at everything else. She was helpless, at his mercy, as his hands moved up to tickle her belly and sides.
He was leaning over her now, and Lori was practically screaming with both delight and agony. Her legs hung off the bed, and she tried to get her feet on the floor to give herself some leverage. But Ander adjusted against her strategy, using the weight of his body to hold her in place.
His hands had moved under her tank so he could tickle her bare skin. Lori wriggled and arched and squirmed beneath him. She gasped out, “Oh God, Ander! Oh God! Ander!”
Ander was hot and strong and substantial above her, and in the blur of her tickle-induced haze, she caught a glimpse of an expression on his face that was half-militant and half-warm.
It was the warmth in his eyes more than the militancy that shifted the nature of her physical sensations. She couldn’t stop squirming. Couldn’t stop rocking beneath the weight of his lean, firm body. Couldn’t stop panting and choking out his name.
But the stimulation had somehow transformed into something just as delicious, just as torturous, but it didn’t make her laugh.
She arched her spine, shamelessly trying to rub her breasts against his chest. Her arms flew back above her head so she could fist her hands in the bedding. “Ander,” she gasped, a jolt of deep arousal slicing through her.
He didn’t miss a beat. Just pushed her tank top up even farther and leaned down enough to take one of her breasts in his mouth.
Lori moaned as he suckled her nipple, and his hands started to caress and fondle her sides, belly, hips, and thighs rather than sustaining the tickle assault.
His mouth and hands felt so much better on her body than Phil’s had. And it wasn’t just because he was more skillful. It seemed natural to feel Ander above her, feel his lips on her breast, his hands on her bare skin, stroking secret parts of her no one else had ever touched.
Her legs still hung over the side of the bed, so she tried to wrap them around Ander’s body. He was wearing far too many clothes, but she didn’t want to take the time to get rid of them. She rubbed her hot arousal against the bulge she felt in Ander’s pants, only a few layers of fabric between her flesh and his.
“Ander,” she rasped, tossing her head back and forth with a desire that was quickly spinning out of control. “Condom. Now.”
He pulled his head from her breast and released one of her thighs. He stared at her for a minute, his eyes hot and oddly unfocused. Then he pulled off her cashmere pants and stood up for just long enough to grab a condom from his case and rip it open.
He fumbled with his pants and boxers until he’d freed his cock. Then he rolled on the condom and moved back into the position he’d taken before, braced above her, half off the bed.
She’d parted her legs for him, but he pushed her thighs farther apart before he slid two fingers into her entrance to check her readiness. She was wetter than she thought was poss
ible after so little foreplay. Her breath hitched as he fucked her with his fingers for a minute, curling them up to rub against her G-spot.
“Ander,” she begged, clutching at the bedding. “Please.”
He was still wearing most of his clothes, and his flushed, tense face above his expensive shirt and suit was the hottest thing she’d ever seen.
His thumb found her clit, and he massaged it until the tremors of an orgasm pulsed through her, making her moan and shudder.
Sucking in air as she came down, she started to claw at Ander’s ass, trying to move him into position, still hungry for more. He adjusted his body to align his cock at her entrance.
Then, with a pitch of his hips, he pushed his cock inside her.
She arched up again as he entered her. She was tight from nearly a month without sex.
“Fuck,” he muttered. He was bracing himself with his hands on the bed, and his face had jerked to the side.
She wanted him to look at her again. Wanted to see the expression in his eyes. “All right?” she managed to ask.
He straightened his neck and opened his eyes. Made a sound that might have been a choked laugh. “Yeah. You ready?”
“Yeah.” When he made his first long thrust, she parted her lips and stretched her neck with pleasure. “Oh yeah.” He thrust again, and she dug her fingers into the clenched muscles of his ass. “Oh yeah.”
They fucked like that, only halfway on the bed, and Lori loved it. Her body grew hotter and more urgent with every one of Ander’s hard thrusts, and her panting transformed into little sobs of pleasure as they rocked together and shook the bed.
She fumbled at his ass and his back, trying to pull him deeper inside her. She’d wrapped her legs around his hips, and she kept trying to get them higher up his back so she could feel even more of him. Get him deeper.
His body was blazing hot and sweating beneath his clothes, and his own uneven breathing turned into rhythmic guttural sounds—almost like grunts—every time he pushed inside her.
“Oh God,” she choked. “Oh Ander.” Her whole body had started to shake, and waves of heat bombarded her.
The speed of his rutting intensified, and he was so tense she could see the tight sinews in his neck.