by Penny Wylder
But Giovanni is grinning at me, and I can’t think about anything else. Like normalcy. Or sane responses to your escort client showing up at your day job after probably stalking you.
“I just wanted a coffee,” he replies. Then he steps closer to the counter, lowers his voice so that Diana won’t be able to hear him over the running water in the sink. “But now I want so much more,” he whispers.
I glance past him, at Diana. She’s watching us out of the corner of her eye, trying to pretend she’s not. Yet I can tell she’s curious about this handsome, sexy stranger in our closed coffee shop. She’s probably wondering why I’m not telling him to go stuff himself like I usually do when guys hit on me at work.
“I can’t,” I whisper. “Not like this. Not now.”
His gaze drops to my chest, heaving beneath my tight work shirt. When his eyes flash back to mine, there’s a hunger in them so physical that I swear I can feel it. “Fifteen minutes. Parking lot across the street. I need to have you.” With that, he slaps a bill on the counter and scoops up his coffee, sweeping out of the shop before I can muster a response.
And before I can gape at the money he left behind. A Franklin. Right. Like that’s inconspicuous.
I stand there gaping after him for long enough that Diana steps up beside me, a concerned look on her face.
“Creeper?” she asks, tilting her head worriedly. “I can go slash his tires if you want.”
I laugh, then shake my head, snapping myself out of it, sliding the $100 bill off the counter and cupping it in my palm, hiding it from her. “Nah. Not creepy. Just too damn hot.”
She smirks. “I’ll say. Did you get his number?”
I laugh again, louder. “Sadly, no.” I haven’t, actually. The only communication we have is through the website we met on. I don’t even know his last name, and he doesn’t know mine.
But he had a point about my first name. We live in a relatively small town–it probably wasn’t hard to find the Facebook profile of the only Corbella who lives here, and then look at her employment section to see where she worked.
Maybe I should try searching Giovanni sometime…
“Here,” I add, passing Diana the tip jar. Inside is $2.61 in change, along with the $100 bill Giovanni just left me. By the time she notices the latter, I’ll be out of here. Hopefully she’ll just chalk it up to some random person having way too big a heart today, like in those feel-good Facebook posts. “Your share of our tips for the day. God bless our generous clientele.”
She rolls her eyes and accepts the tip jar without looking inside. “Cheap bastards. You’d think none of them ever had to work for a living or something.”
I should be annoyed by Giovanni. Maybe even a little unnerved. He came here looking for me, after all. Which means he looked into where I work, and tried on purpose to find me. What does that mean?
He’s been thinking about me, too.
And however insane or idiotic it might be to get turned on by that idea–especially when it comes to a client, someone I’m supposed to be keeping a business relationship with–I can’t help it. I love that he couldn’t get me out of his head either. So much so that he needed to come and see me again, way sooner than we’d planned.
This is crazy. Part of me knows that. It’s not how clients and escorts should act. But nothing about the orgasms he gave me last night was normal either. And the growing ache between my legs is in control now, not my brain.
The lines are blurring so fast with Giovanni…
“Earth to Corbella,” Diana is saying. I zone back in to find her watching me, eyebrow cocked, one hand on her hip.
“Huh?”
“I said, we’re done. Do you want to head out? I’ll finish the last dishes.” She’s grinning, a little sly and teasing. “You look like you’ve got somewhere you want to be.”
My face flushes again. Parking lot. Fifteen minutes. “I can stay,” I protest, not wanting to give myself away.
But Diana has known me way too long to fall for that. She rolls her eyes. “Go on. Go enjoy your date with your new mystery boyfriend.”
I groan. “There’s no mystery boyfriend!” But I pick up my bag anyway, shrugging it onto my shoulder. Because if she’s giving me this out, then I’ll definitely take it.
“Whatever. Have fun!” She throws me a wink and a wave, then heads into the back to finish the last closing tasks. I linger in the doorway for a moment, feeling vaguely guilty–after everything Diana has done for me, should I really let her take on all the closing work alone?
But my raging libido gets the better of me. I mentally promise to pick up an extra shift for her next week, and head out of the café. I don’t walk directly across the street, just in case someone’s watching. I zig-zag across the road, my eyes locked on the parking lot the whole while. There are only a few cars but Giovanni’s is easy to pick out. It’s bright red, a Ferrari I realize when I walk a little closer, and it’s every inch as sexy as him.
I could turn around. I could go home now. I don’t need to see him today–I don’t need to see him ever again if I don’t want to. His $3,000 payment showed up in my bank account first thing this morning, just like he promised, payment to keep me for himself, to reserve me from any other clients. But he can’t actually stop me from seeing anyone else. He can’t make me meet him now, either. We didn’t agree on it; there’s nothing he could do if I just walked away.
But I don’t want to do that.
I open the passenger side door and slide in next to him. The moment hi dark eyes latch onto mine, a little curl of tension in my stomach unfurls, like getting a knot in your back kneaded out during a good massage. All nervousness floods out of me, replaced instead by pure lust. The car smells amazing, a combination of leather seats and his pine-scented cologne, and him underneath it all, the scent I can’t get out of my memory, ever since last night when I felt wrapped in it.
I want him.
Neither of us move for a second, both watching one another, waiting, appraising. And then something clicks in my brain.
Fuck it.
I lean across the gearshift and kiss him. Soft, tentative. Just enough to feel his lips meld to mine, his stubble brush my cheek, his hot breath skittering over my skin as he lets out a faint surprised huff.
Then I pull away, lean back in my seat, and catch his gaze once more. His eyebrows have drawn together across his forehead, confused, though not offended. More just surprised. As if he’s thinking the same thing that I am right now.
What have I just gotten myself into?
Then, without warning, he reaches across the shift to wrap his arm around my waist. His lips crash into mine again, harder this time, a rough, hungry kiss. I drink him in, part my lips to let his tongue explore my mouth, even as his hands fold around my waist. His hands are so big they almost fit around my waist entirely, and I feel warm and safe, folded up in him.
He tilts his head and I lean with him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, burying one hand in his hair and clenching my fist. He mirrors me, pulling just hard enough that I feel it against my scalp, a faint sting of pain coupled with the pleasure of his kiss.
Like everything else, he is dangerously good at kissing…
His hands slide up from my waist to wrap around my breasts and I let out a soft groan, melting against his muscular chest. That’s when he draws back, his lips still caressing my neck.
“Corbella.”
I freeze. He’s got that commanding sound to his voice again, the one he gets just before he gives me an order. My whole body tenses in anticipation, wondering what he has in store next, what he’ll ask me to do. It’s thrilling, surrendering control to him like this, letting him take charge of my body.
“Undo my belt.”
My breath catches in my throat. Finally. I’ve been aching for this, to touch him, feel him in my hands. I want to know every inch of this man. I reach between us and undo the latch of his belt, slowly, taunting us as I draw it out.
His
eyes don’t leave mine the entire time. “Now take out my cock.”
I run my hands down to trace the seam of his jeans, feeling the hard press of him there. A little smirk appears on his lips. “Feel how hard I am for you, Corbella.”
My mouth goes dry and my thighs clench reflexively as a pulse of desire spikes through my pussy. I can already feel that my panties are wet and my clit actually starts to throb, feeling his solid length. I slide the zipper down, peel his jeans back, and push his boxers aside eagerly, no longer able to take it slow or tease him at all. I’m all animal lust now, hungry, and nothing is going to get in my way.
But as the fabric of his boxers slips down his waist, I have to pause for a moment to stare.
He is huge. Thick and long all at once, curved upright, full and flushed with lust. That throb in my clit tightens as I imagine him pushing this cock inside me, fucking me with it. I can practically feel how my walls would stretch to accommodate him, the belly-deep ache I’d get from being fucked with a cock this enormous.
“Suck my cock,” he says, those eyes still on me, watching, studying. He’s going to watch me the whole time, I realize. Usually the guys I’ve dated in the past just lie back on the bed when I go down on them, eyes shut. I’ve never been watched doing this before, and as I lean forward over him, shifting in the seat until my head is even with his lap, I’m surprised to realize how much hotter it is knowing he’s studying my every move.
I breathe in his scent, heady and masculine, before I bring the tip of my tongue to the base of his cock, tracing my way up the underside slowly. His sharp inhale, and the way his fist tightens in my hair, tells me he’s enjoying this as much as I am.
I let my tongue explore him slowly, working every side at once, first underneath, then curling my tongue around the left side of his cock, stroking up almost to the tip, and running back down the right side. He’s breathing harder now, his hips slowly shifting against the car seat, rising to meet my mouth.
But I’m not done exploring.
I run the flat of my tongue over the top of his cock, lifting my eyes to meet his while I do. His are darker than ever, his mouth a tight line, the muscles all along his neck tensed. I moan a little as I reach his tip and swirl my tongue around the head. He shudders in response, but those eyes don’t break their hold, and he somehow manages to retain his poker face. But I can see the effect I’m having on him. There are tells he can’t control–his breathing and tensing muscles
I want to make him lose control. I want to see him come for me. I want to taste his cum.
I lick his head again, just over the tip, and taste the bead of precum that gathered there. It’s a perfect appetizer, a sample of how he’ll taste when I finally make him come for me. I shut my eyes, parting my lips slightly, kissing along the side of him.
That’s when his fist tightens in my hair. “I’m going to fuck your mouth now, Corbella.”
Obediently, I open my mouth for him. He tugs my hair gently to guide me over the top of his cock, then lifts his hips to thrust up into me, slowly. My jaw aches as I widen my mouth to take him all in, and yet I love the sensation, the feeling of his thick cock gliding along my tongue. He doesn’t push all the way in, not yet—he draws back, and I curl my fist around the base of his cock, reach up with my other hand to toy with his balls as he starts to rock his hips against my face in a slow rhythm. Each time, he pushes a little deeper, and I swallow hard around him, worried. I’ve never tried to deep throat before. What if I gag? Will he be grossed out by it, put off by my lack of skills?
He doesn’t give me time to worry about it. He keeps going, the tip of him thrusting deeper and deeper into my mouth. I feel him touch the back of my throat, and my body tenses, unable to help it, a faint gag escaping my mouth, muffled around him.
Instead of reacting like I expected though, he groans in pleasure. I glance up to find his eyes on fire, locked on the sight of me.
“You are such a perfect little cumslut, Corbella,” he says, voice thick with desire.
That praise makes me want to take him even farther. I spread my mouth wide, lips tight around him, and suck him back into my mouth. There’s a slurping sound as I force him all the way to the back of my throat again, and I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open, focused as I am on the feeling of his dick hitting my throat.
His fist tightens, teeth clenching–my reward. “Fuck, yes,” he hisses. “Gag on my cock, baby.”
He’s lifting his hips faster now, thrusting hard, and I choke once more before I learn to relax my throat and just let him take me. It feels hot, the way he fucks my face, lost in his own pleasure. I lift my tongue to press it into the underside of his cock as he fucks me, and that does it.
He clenches his fist hard in my hair. “Fuck, I’m going to come.”
I moan in response, my lips vibrating around his hard length. I tighten my hand around the base of his shaft, slide my fist in time with my lips, his cock slick with my spit, velvety-smooth over the hard core of him.
He comes with a roar of pleasure, guttural. Sheer animal brain unleashed. I look up in time to catch the moment when that poker face breaks, and his jaw tightens, eyes unfocusing as he loses himself in the orgasm.
I swallow a mouthful of his sticky, salty cum. The flavor is amazing, all him, and I keep moving, pumping up and down his length, licking every drop up, thoroughly cleaning him with my tongue. He groans again, fainter, and his cock jumps in my hands, sensitive from the orgasm.
When I finally pull back, he’s gone slack in his seat and we’re both panting. I lick the last drops of his cum from my lips. I wonder if it’s possible to become addicted to the taste of a man’s cum. I never minded the taste with my other boyfriends, but his is…
Well. Let’s just say I already can’t wait to get him in my mouth again.
I sit up in the seat and glance over at him. I’m already thinking, “Now what?” eager for the next step. Will we fuck here? Drive to a motel and fuck there? What does he have planned for me in that dirty brain of his?
But he just smiles and reaches up to turn on the engine. “Would you like me to drop you off at home?”
I blink in surprise. What? We can’t be done. Not yet. I’m still on fire with want, the tight throb between my legs impossible to ignore now, having grown stronger since I got a taste of him. “Already?” I ask, unable to hide the disappointment in my voice.
He laughs softly, smirking. “You misunderstand, Corbella.” He reaches over to brush my hair out of my face, gently, tenderly. It’s completely at odds with his next statement. “This is about my pleasure, not yours.”
“I…” Right. Client and escort. This is my job, not a hookup. “Yes, of course, sir–”
“But,” he interrupts sharply, and that smirk of his widens. “If you ask very nicely…” His hand trails down my arm, his touch so light that every hair on my body stands on end. It feels like electricity wherever our skin meets. Impossibly good. “I’ll help you,” he adds, and his hand comes to rest on my hip, ever so lightly. Offering, but not making the first move. Waiting for me.
I already know what he wants. “Please, sir…” I start, hesitant, unsure.
He lifts one eyebrow. His hand tightens on my hip, fingers digging in harder. “Please what, my gorgeous slut?”
“Please help me.”
He leans in, his lips inches from mine. I ache to close the gap between us, but he’s in dom mode now, and I know if I move without his permission, it’ll only earn me a spanking.
Then again, maybe I should…
His eyes lock on mine. “You’re going to have to do much better than that.”
I squirm in my seat, my heart thrashing against my ribcage. It’s hard to think straight with him so close to me, with every nerve ending in my body focused on my tight pussy, the ache in my clit. I lick my lips, trying to think. “Please make me come for you, sir.”
“Better,” he says, and I feel another little rush of pleasure at the praise. “I need details. Wh
at dirty things are you imagining me doing to you, little cumslut?” His breath is hot on my cheeks, his mouth inches away. I want to kiss him more than anything, but I force myself to lower my eyes. Watch his groin instead, the bulge where he’s started to harden again, after sliding his jeans back on.
“I imagine you fucking me, sir,” I breathe.
He chuckles softly. Leans back to glance pointedly out the window of the car. “Right here?” It’s still daylight out, and we’re parked in a public lot. Not even that far from the café where I work, though at least we’re facing the other way. Anyone could walk past and see us right now. “Do you want the whole town to see you come?” His voice is a purr, but it holds a threat, too. Or maybe a promise. He would do it, I’m sure, if I asked him to.
My cheeks flush with heat. “No, sir,” I demure, too unsure, too nervous. It’s too much to risk, all at once–I don’t want to be discovered my second day on the job.
But… I can’t deny that the exposure here, sitting in this car, where anyone could walk past at any moment, or even be watching us already from one of the neighboring buildings… That does hold a certain thrill. “But,” I add, and his grin sharpens. “I do imagine you fingering me here, sir… Where anyone could see what a slut I am.”
It’s the first time I’ve called myself a slut out loud. There’s a thrill in it, a forbidden pleasure. Owning this red-hot lust I feel.
“I see…” He slides his hand under the waistband of my jeans, right at my hipbone. Slowly he flattens his palm against my stomach, and lets his hand glide around to my belly button. His fingers graze the edge of my panties, under my jeans, and I can’t help but gasp faintly. “So you want me to push my fingers inside you. Make you come out in public.”
“Yes, sir.” I lean toward him, even as he yanks my jeans open in one swift motion, pushes them down my hips. “Please, sir, let me come for you.”
“Oh, I will.” His eyes spark with promise. Then he reaches up with his other hand to shift the car out of park. My eyes widen. “But only because I have to drive you home anyway. Tell me where to take you.”