by I. T. Lucas
But now that the issue was cleared, he had no idea what to do. Should he just ask her if she wanted to take him to her bed? Should he pick her up and carry her there?
In the end, he opted for the truth. Brian would not have approved, but fuck it. Turner was done pretending.
"You must forgive me, but I'm out of practice. I don't know what is okay and what is not, and what is expected of me."
Bridget smiled indulgently. "When was the last time you went on a date?"
"In college."
She lifted a brow. "What about hookups?"
"The last one was months ago. I hope it doesn't turn you off, but I prefer paid company. No effort required and no expectations. It's like a business transaction."
Pushing away from the table, Bridget got up and sauntered over to him. "How much do you normally pay for it?" She sat on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"About a thousand."
"High-class company. You pamper yourself."
"I can afford it."
She put her finger to his lips, rubbing them gently. "Did you ever pay anyone five thousand?"
He shook his head instead of replying because her finger was still on his lips.
"That's what I charge. But I promise you I'm worth it. In fact, I'm sure you are going to tip me when I'm done with you."
He liked the game Bridget was playing. And he was grateful for her insight and her consideration. This was familiar territory, and she'd just given him permission to act as he did with his paid escorts, putting him at ease.
"I need to sample the goods first," he said.
"Smart man." She pulled his head down and kissed him.
He loved her lips. Big and fleshy and soft yet persistent. She licked inside his mouth, her small tongue darting in and catching his for a little dance.
Bridget's flavor was exquisite, different, intoxicating, and had nothing to do with the wine they'd both consumed. It was her own. Wanting more than the little taste she was giving him, Turner took over the kiss. Cupping the back of her head, he speared his tongue past her lush lips and into the hot cavern of her mouth.
On a moan, Bridget went limp in his arms, surrendering to him in a way he somehow knew she hadn't surrendered to anyone else. The thought made him harder than a barrel of a gun and just as ready to shoot his load.
Wrapping one arm around her middle and threading the other under her hips, Turner pushed up to his feet and strode down the hallway with Bridget in his arms, searching for her bedroom.
"This one." She pointed to an open door.
He sat her on the bed, then stepped back, leaned against the dresser, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Please remove your clothes. All of them."
Bridget leaned back on her elbows and crossed her legs. "First, we need to negotiate the terms."
Turner stifled a smile. She wasn't wrong about that part, but it usually took place over the phone. Once his escort arrived, she knew exactly what he expected from her.
"We already agreed on the price."
"That's true. But I need to know how rough you want me to get with you. Some like it gentle, some do not."
It was a reversal of roles he actually found refreshing. "I can take whatever you dish out."
She lifted one of her beautifully curved red brows. "If you say so. But remember that I warned you. I like to bite."
Fuck. Why did it sound so hot?
"Can I bite back?"
He'd meant it as a joke, but Bridget's eyes glazed over with desire. "Please do."
She smiled at his surprised expression. "I'm not a masochist, if that's what you're thinking. Immortal males bite during sex, but I've never had the pleasure of experiencing that. It won't be the same without the venom, but I still find the prospect extremely erotic."
"Venom?"
Bridget sat up straight. "Didn't Kian explain how we induce transition?"
Turner shook his head.
"Oh, boy. Here it goes. Immortal males have fangs and venom. That venom is the catalyst that activates the immortal genes in a Dormant. When they bite their partner during sex, the venom delivers euphoria and a powerful climax. Or several of them. When they fight other males, the venom incapacitates their opponent, and in a large dosage stops the heart. It is one of the few methods of killing an immortal. In order to transition, you will have to wrestle an immortal male, spurring his aggression just enough for him to produce venom. He bites you, and if you're a Dormant, you transition. Sometimes it happens after one bite, sometimes after several, and sometimes not at all."
Turner rubbed his hand over his head. "That's okay with me. I can put up a fight."
Bridget's eyes roamed his body. "I'm sure you can."
They were back into the game. "Now that we cleared the biting part, what else?"
Instead of an answer, Bridget crossed her arms, grabbed the bottom of her loose blouse, and pulled it over her head.
Turner's mouth filled with saliva. Bridget's white bra was more of a decoration than a supportive garment, her ample breasts spilling over the top. He wanted to reach for her and touch, but held back, waiting for her to finish stripping for him.
He loved that part, the slow unveiling of a woman's body, the breathless anticipation of the beauty hidden under her clothing. To him, there was nothing more appealing than the female body.
Giving him the show he craved, Bridget pivoted on the bed, lifted her legs, and pulled her tight pants off in slow motion.
Next, she went up on her knees and reached back with one arm to snap the bra clasp open, while holding it to her body with the other. Slowly, she pulled down one shoulder strap, and then the next, all along keeping her intense blue eyes on his.
A true temptress, she was doing a better job than the pros. Probably because there was real desire in her eyes and not just a show for his benefit.
When both straps were dangling down her arms, she let the bra slide off.
The pressure in Turner's pants was becoming unbearable, but he kept still, determined to watch her performance to its end.
Bridget hooked both thumbs in the elastic holding up her white panties, shimming out of them one inch at a time.
Gorgeous, sexy woman.
With a smile, she lay back on a mound of pillows. "Your turn, Victor. Give me a good show."
He loved the switching back and forth between them. Bridget was an assertive woman who was no doubt just as assertive in bed, but she seemed willing to take turns.
Turner could live with that. He was naturally dominant, but not to the extent that he couldn't see himself yielding to a woman. Nevertheless, this was a new experience for him. He was willing to give it a shot, especially since he was going to play the game with Bridget, which he would no doubt find more than pleasurable.
Chapter 24: Bridget
Eager for Turner's unveiling and curious about the way he was going to do it, Bridget made herself comfortable on the large stack of pillows she kept on her bed.
"Your turn, Victor. Give me a good show."
It had been fascinating watching his reaction to her striptease. The permanently impassive, hard mask he wore like a shield on his face had slipped, revealing the smoldering desire in his intense eyes.
His fingers had twitched when she'd shed her bra, and her breasts responded by puckering in invitation. She couldn't wait to have his hands all over her body. Turner was an intense man who kept himself under tight control. She wondered if he was as reserved in the bedroom.
Probably.
Even though she'd given him the freedom to treat her as he would a paid escort, his pre-assignation negotiations hadn't mentioned anything out of the ordinary. Except, she hadn't given him a chance, distracting him with her striptease.
It didn't matter. Soon enough he would learn that she wouldn't allow him to hold back. The last thing Bridget wanted was to be treated like a breakable china doll when she was the opposite of that.
Immortal females were predatory by nature, which meant tha
t they craved powerful partners who could fight them for dominance. One of the reasons Bridget found human males so underwhelming in bed was the knowledge that she could overpower them if she so wished.
It wouldn't be as easy with Turner. He was built like a predator, all hard muscles without an ounce of fat on him, and by his own admission, he was highly trained in several martial arts disciplines.
A worthy opponent who had her mouth watering.
Turner started pulling off his jacket. "I've never stripped for show, and after your performance, I'm afraid mine would be anticlimactic."
Bridget stretched her arms over her head and laced her fingers behind her head. "I doubt it. I've already seen you half naked, and I've been very impressed."
Turner's moves as he started undressing were precise and economical. Shrugging off his jacket, he folded it on the fly and put it behind him on the dresser, the fold line aligned with its edge.
His T-shirt was next. Pulling it over his head with the same fluidity, he folded it into a neat square and put it on top of the jacket. The fold lines were precisely aligned even though his eyes remained focused on her.
It was sexy even though he wasn't trying to make it so. The complete control he had over every movement was impressive.
As Bridget had remembered from his checkup, the man had a defined eight-pack. Now that she could observe with impunity, Bridget almost salivated at the beauty of Turner's upper body. He was magnificently built, with everything perfectly proportional and nothing overblown. As someone who'd seen many impressive male torsos, human and immortal, she counted herself as an authority on the subject, and in her qualified opinion, Turner deserved first prize.
His chest was mostly hairless, and the little he had was light blond and barely visible against his pale skin. By the looks of it, the guy hadn't been to the beach in years. The only light his skin had probably been exposed to came from the fluorescent bulbs in his office or the glow from his computer screen.
Turner toed off his shoes, pushing them against the dresser, then lifted one foot at the time to remove his socks. She couldn't help noting that his good balance was another indication of how well he maintained his body. One of the first signs of aging in humans was declining balance. At forty-six, Turner had the balance of a man decades younger.
With only his pants remaining, Bridget wondered if Victor would be shy and turn around to take them off, or face her while doing so, and whether he would take the pants off together with his underwear, or one at a time.
Or maybe he went commando.
He didn't.
Removing his pants first, he neatly folded what he'd taken off and put it on top of the other garments.
As much as Bridget wanted to keep looking into his eyes, her gaze was drawn to the impressive bulge his black boxer shorts were lovingly stretched over.
He walked over and stood by the side of the bed, then climbed on top, kneeling by her side. "How about you take them off for me?" he asked in a voice that had gotten deeper and huskier with arousal.
Sitting up, she hooked her fingers in the elastic, pulled the fabric away from his straining length, then tugged it down.
Beautiful.
She wasn't one of those women who paid much attention to that part of a male's anatomy. Using it right was more important than the size or shape, but Turner's was just as perfect as the rest of him. Long, smooth, and jutting out from a patch of blond hair that looked soft rather than coarse.
She wrapped her palm around it, then dipped her head and licked it like a cone of ice cream, starting at the top and going all the way down, around, and up again.
Turner hissed from between clenched teeth, his fingers threading through her hair and holding her to him. "I don't know if I want you to stop before I come in your mouth, or keep going because it's so good."
Bridget lifted her eyes to him. "We can do both. For five grand, you get the deluxe package." She winked.
He chuckled. "Is that so?"
She gave him another thorough lick. "Indeed."
"In that case, I would like to save this for last, if you don't mind."
Bridget shrugged, pretending indifference when in fact she was burning with curiosity as to what he had in mind for her. "You're the customer. Whatever you say goes."
"I have a beautiful naked woman in bed, and I want to touch and taste every inch of that sexy body and lick every inch of that incredibly smooth skin."
Sounded more than good to her. They could take turns worshiping each other's bodies.
Bridget lay back on her stack of pillows and cupped her aching breasts. "At your service, sir."
Chapter 25: Turner
Turner had seen his share of beautiful women. At a thousand dollars a visit, he'd gotten the best. But none of them could hold a candle to Bridget.
Not because she was more beautiful, and not even because she was smarter. Some of the beauties who'd graced his bed were working on their PhDs while supplementing their pitiful stipends with a little side job that paid extremely well.
But Bridget had that something extra, a one in a million quality he hadn't encountered in anyone yet.
Maybe later, when the blood flow left his nether regions and returned to his brain, he would try to analyze it and figure out what made her so special and what that something extra was.
Right now he was on a different mission, because for once his overactive mind had given priority to his physical body.
Surprisingly, Turner couldn't care less that his highly prized mental faculties were temporarily compromised by his lust for this amazing woman. Some primitive instincts that he hadn't been aware of were taking over, and it felt right.
"I want to kiss those lips again." He lay down sideways and pulled her to him, chest to chest, her soft breasts pressed against his hard muscles, her stiff nipples rubbing against his pecs.
Reaching with his hand, he cupped one, enjoying the supple give as he thumbed the nipple. It had been a while since he'd held a breast this large that was free of artificial enhancements. His hand was big, with long fingers, and yet her breast overflowed it.
Bridget moaned and rubbed against him, her other breast begging for attention.
To take care of both, he needed her on her back.
With a light push and roll, he positioned himself on top of her and kissed her long and hard while kneading both pliable globes.
The problem was that in this position this cock was nestled between her thighs, dangerously close to where it desperately wanted to be.
If he wanted to enjoy all of what this magnificent woman had to offer, he needed to separate those magnetic forces.
Sliding down her body, he took one ruby-colored nipple between his lips and sucked it into his mouth.
Bridget hissed, her body arching off the bed.
He repeated the same with her other one. But as lovely as her breasts were, the heat coming off the juncture between her thighs was calling to him. He needed his fingers and his mouth down there like he needed to take his next breath.
Bridget was a petite woman. Maybe he could take care of both at the same time.
Her breasts cupped in his hands, he slid further down her body, kissing and licking along the way to his coveted destination.
The scent of her desire was like an aphrodisiac, making him half-crazed with the need to taste her. It must've been imbued with pheromones, something that was unique to immortal females, because Turner couldn't remember ever reacting to a woman's scent like that before.
Hell, he couldn't remember ever feeling so crazed for a woman, needing her with almost animalistic ferocity, or wanting to possess her in every way possible and some that were not.
Powerful pheromones, that was the only logical explanation. The thing was, before today Turner hadn't believed in the power of pheromones, not between humans. He'd thought it was another urban legend.
Apparently, he'd been wrong.
Welcoming, Bridget parted her legs to give him better access and
arched an inch or two off the bed in a blatant invitation.
He appreciated a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn't bashful about it. The few dates he'd been on could've been more tolerable if the women had just told him what they needed from him.
Closing his eyes, he extended his tongue and licked along her slit, getting his first taste of her nectar. The concentration of pheromones in her lubricant must've been off the charts because it made him lightheaded as if he'd overdone it with alcohol.
Like an addict, he ignored the dizziness and went for more, wedging his tongue into her opening and scooping up her juices as if they were the fabled ambrosia of the gods.
Perhaps they were. After all, Bridget was a descendant of those gods.
The guttural noises she was making sounded more demonic than angelic, but they were music to his ears.
Like a man possessed, he couldn't have enough of her. His hands on her breasts, teasing her nipples, tugging and pinching, his lips and his tongue busy devouring her, Turner wished for another set of hands so he could touch more of her, another set of lips so he could kiss her mouth.
More. More. More.
Madness.
Divine madness.
Bridget's climax exploded from her with a feline roar that reverberated from the walls, her body bucking up with such force that she would've flung him all the way to the floor if he hadn't clamped his arms around her and used his entire weight to keep her down.
It took several long moments for her tremors to subside. He eased his hold on her and planted a gentle kiss on her belly.
Bridget put her hand on his bald head, caressing it. "I think you made a bad bargain. I should be the one paying you."
As he lifted his eyes to her bliss-suffused face, Turner couldn't hide the expression of deep satisfaction he felt for bringing her to such intense orgasm. He'd never thought it was possible, but pleasuring this woman felt as good as or better than bringing an impossible mission to a successful conclusion.
Not that he thought Bridget had any trouble orgasming, but he'd doubted she experienced such powerful ones often.