by Xavier Neal
My head falls backwards on a whimper, “Hunter...”
His hands grip onto my hips as he thrusts again. “That's righ', Sugar. Keep my name on those pretty lips.”
The sharp movement knocks at the door of an orgasm. My pussy grasps to hold him tighter, to keep him drowning in the slick undulation. He relentlessly bucks again only to be met with a louder moan. Hunter's body blankets mine from behind, one hand on my hip, the other now snaking its way around to toy with my clit.
When my hand twitches in preparation to join his, he growls, “Don't fuckin' move.”
The command rips a shudder out of me. He groans again, applying pressure to the sensitive spot.
His lips find my ear and he assures, “Ladies always come first.”
Like the professional he is, he begins an effortless pursuit to pull me to the edge of ecstasy. The thrusting doesn't falter despite my struggles to hold on. It actually deepens. He spreads me wider. Rubs my clit faster. Hunter's assault on my pussy shifts to nuclear with the oscillating movements of his cock and fingers. Unaccustomed to the abundance of pleasure has me singing his name in such rapid succession, I'm beginning to believe it's the only thing I know how to say.
Different octaves clearly mean 'yes please' and 'right there'. He gets it, why don't you?
A soft mewl is robbed from my lips when his teeth nip at my earlobe. He promptly states, “I love that sound.” His dick dives as deep as it can possibly go at the same time he declares, “Now come for me, Sugar.”
My body doesn't hesitate to give him what he's asked for. Shattering like glass dropped onto the hard floor, I pant and push back against his body, grateful when the hand on my hip grips me tighter, refusing to let me drift away from him or this moment. Not wanting to be alone in the blissful spiral, my pussy pleas to be joined with every quiver. Hunter's hand frees itself from the previous task and uses itself to lock my body against his at the same time his release is freed. The carnal groaning in my ear clamps onto the raw nature I choose to conduct my life with as if his instincts fit with mine like a puzzle piece.
Another new feeling for me... No. Not the orgasm. I'm actually really easy to get off.
Hunter's heavy forehead drops onto my shoulder.
I take one more deep breath and sigh, “I don't have any cash on me to pay you. Don't think that I won't though. We just have to swing by an ATM.”
To my surprise there's a slight chuckle out of him. “You do know I'm a stripper. Not an escort, right?”
He pulls himself out leaving a foreign emptiness in its wake.
New. That feeling is new too. What's wrong with me? Am I sleep deprived? I mean I'm all about new experiences, new highs, and new feelings, but these...these are not what I had in mind.
Turning around at the same time he tosses the condom in the toilet, I wiggle my skirt down. “There's a difference?”
Hunter chuckles, adjusting his clothes back in place as well. “Huge.”
“Your cock is what's huge.”
There's a choking sound from somewhere outside the stall followed by the sink turning on.
His face reddens a little, but he shrugs. “Have dinner with me tomorrow?”
“Fucking and then an offer for dinner? Isn't that backwards?”
He chortles again, “I would've done it in the correct order, but you seemed more interested in this route.”
“And what a fantastic route it was....”
Hunter hums, “Hell yeah. And I wanna take it again after dinner tomorrow.”
I hesitate to argue. “I....I don't do that.”
“Eat?”
“Date.”
“Why not?”
Folding my arms across my chest, I merely shrug. “What's the point? You date someone to sleep with them. Why not just skip to the good part and spend the rest of your time doing things you enjoy with people you actually care about rather than pretending to enjoy things to get to what it is you really want?”
You can call me crazy, but having overheard a million 'I wished I would've done more with the departed' speeches at funerals is a brilliant reminder to do what you love to do, with those who matter, and skip the rest of the bullshit.
All of a sudden, his arms land on both sides of me, trapping me in place. The change of his domineering position travels straight to the recently tamed treasure between my thighs. Weakly, I push them together. “Well Sugar, what if we enjoy each other with our clothes on as much as we do off?”
“That doesn't tend to happen to me.”
“Am I not worth a shot?”
“From the way you just fucked me rotten and have my pussy begging for an encore right now...it's safe to say you're definitely worth a shot,” I giggle. “But that doesn't mean you're gonna get it.”
Hunter's body presses against mine, immediately igniting the rest of my nerves all over again.
He just came. He can't possibly be ready to go again.
The growing bulge against my stomach informs otherwise. With a sweet tone, he persuades, “If I guarantee you another orgasm, will you have dinner with me?”
How can any woman say no to that?
I tug at the bottom of his shirt. “Where?”
“My penthouse.”
“Delivery?” He shakes his head and I promptly question, “You cook?”
“I do.”
Has a job, screws like an escort despite the fact he insists he isn't one, and can cook? Again, if I was the dating type or hell the marrying type, I'd be trying to lock him down. Huh. Normally just those thoughts cause me to hyperventilate. I must be exhausted. How else would you explain it?
After drinking in the sight of his toned arms, I sigh, “Are we talking meat and potatoes or tofu and grass? Because I believe life really is too short not to eat meat.”
Mirth fills his eyes. “A woman who's not afraid of a good hunk of meat?”
I wet my lips seductively. “Obviously...”
Hunter swallows another animalistic sound and declares, “Steak it is. Any other requests?”
Remembering the excitement from our first time together, I add, “Rope. Next time you get an orgasm out of me, I want there to be rope.”
As if I opened the gates of heaven, he whispers, “I thought that was a given...”
Okay so no, I'm not really into the whole dating scene, but I do have to eat. And more important I need to get laid again. Going four months without sex was definitely too long. Besides, I'll admit, only to you, I'm a little curious to find out if we get along well with our clothes on. It's a rarity for me to enjoy the company of those I sleep with the same way I enjoy those I don't. Either way, we know what's gonna happen the minute they're off. Regardless of the idle conversation we'll most likely end up making, I know for a fact by the end of the night I'll be one satisfied woman. And that's truly the only way to live life.
Hunter
I have another swig of my beer, the grin on my face incapable of fading.
Yeah. Believe me I know what an idiot I look like smilin' for no reason. Except there is a reason. A fuckin' beautiful 5'5 blonde with killer blue eyes and a magical ability to make me blow a load with minimal effort kind of reason. Angelic face with devilish intentions. Hell, jus' the simplest thought of her gets my dick rock hard. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to dance with wood? I didn't before this afternoon. Also learned Cass' face of disgust can be aimed at me.
The sound of the buzzer fills the kitchen and I try to dial back my excitement.
Way I can't quit grinnin' you'd think my chili won at the state cook off.
Quickly I wipe my hands, toss the rag over my shoulder, and hustle out of the open kitchen for the front door. As soon as it's opened, my jaw hits the floor.
How the hell does she get more beautiful?
Rory pulls her blonde hair to the side of her tilted face. “Evening, Cowboy.”
At the sight of her boobs pushed up in the low cut, dark brown, floral print halter top dress, every bone in my body is read
y to giddy up.
Cheesy but true. Remind me why I actually wanna do more than see her naked again?
Rory wets her lips and adds, “If you wanna screw me in the doorway of your penthouse all you have to do is say so.”
I stifle the urge to groan.
That's why...I gotta know if she's as much fun out of bed as she is in. After we exchanged phone numbers last night and split, my mind couldn't stop racin' over the right type of steak to buy. Which style of potatoes to serve. Dessert. The only thing I was thinkin' 'bout when I crashed last nigh' was how to please her in the kitchen and with the rope she asked for. You got any idea how rare it is a woman asks to be tied up?
Stepping back I gesture her inside. “Come on in, Sugar. Was jus' about to put the steak on the grill.”
As soon as she's inside, she slides out of her flats and sighs, “Wow...this place looks amazing.”
I lock the door. “Tour?”
Playfully she questions, “Can it be a naked tour?”
My cock knocks against my jeans and I swallow the temptation to blow off dinner to blow her mind instead.
This is gonna be the longest meal of my damn life. That includes the one I had with the cop's daughter tryin' to rub me under the table durin' his overly descriptive discussion of his gun collection.
“Later,” I lightly laugh. “For now, how about I put on those steaks and you can make yourself right at home.”
Rory gives me a wink but saunters off toward the living room. Unable to resist her simplest movements, my eyes follow as she drags her delicate fingers along the back of the dark brown L shaped couch that faces my fireplace. While she's admiring the TV above it and the selected framed family photos I brought with me when I left my other life behind, I gaze at the way her dress toys with illusion of giving me a peak of what's hiding underneath.
Damn. Even her clothes know how to seduce me.
I clear my throat and hustle to the kitchen. “Drink? Don't keep soda in the house but I've got sports drinks. Milk. Juice. Regular water and sparklin'.”
She tosses me a sweet look over her shoulder. “Did you buy sparkling just for me?”
Lifting the bottle I was keeping on ice, I wink.
Her face softens. “That was very sweet.”
“What can I say? I'm typically a gentleman.”
Rory lowers herself onto her knees on my couch, body still facing me. “Typically?”
“As in I don't typically bend women over in the men's bathroom. Especially without takin' them out first.”
She grins and bites her bottom lip.
I want to look away but am frozen under the blue glare.
“So you feel obligated to go out with me?”
“The only thing I feel obligated to do, Sugar, is give you another reason to scream my name.” Before she has a chance to argue, counter, or convince me to skip cooking, I sigh, “Tell me how you want your steak?”
She gives me a smirk. “However you make it.”
Was that an underlying sexual implication, or am I jus' wound too fuckin' tight?
I continue to stare until she less than innocently bites her index finger.
Well, guess that answers that.
Casually shifting my cock in my jeans, I turn around to finish cooking. With her face no longer in my direct sight, the ability to think straight rushes back to me. “So tell me, Rory. What do you do for a livin'?”
“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“I'm a mortician.”
The sizzle of the meat hitting the grill allows for me to relax further.
Jus' one of those sounds that reminds me of home.
After lowering the lid to the grill, I turn around, and lean my back against the counter. “Like you...you spend time with dead bodies?”
Maybe she said musician? I could see her pretty face on an album cover, climbin' the charts. Wooin' different men every night. Hm. Not sure I care for that thought.
“Like I embalm, clean, dress and prep them for the funeral. Occasionally, I do the social side of it too, but that's mainly Brian's area of expertise.”
A twinge of jealousy pokes at my side. “Brian?”
“We own The Glass Coffin together. Our grandfather's owned it and when they died, they left it to us.”
I let out a deep exhale.
Don't know what that was. Hunger hallucinations? I couldn't have actually been momentarily jealous because she mentioned another male. Nah. That didn't happen.
“You can relax. I'm not married. Not engaged to be married. No boyfriend.”
Grabbing my beer off the counter from beside me, I shake my head. “Now that is harder for me to believe. How blind is this Brian guy to not have at least tried?”
“Who said he hasn't?”
The grip on my bottle tightens.
Immediately, Rory tosses her head back in laughter. “That was too easy.”
“You're screwin' with me?”
“Well until you screw me, consider this fair.”
“How is this fair?”
“You're messing with my physical emotions by not bending me over this couch and fucking me hard, so in return I'll be messing with your mental emotions until you do.”
Sexual anarchy. What the hell have I gotten myself into and why does it jus' make me like her more?
I turn around to flip the meat, wanting a good sear to lock in the flavor of the perfect ribeyes I spent twenty minutes searching for. “How long have you been the hottest mortician to ever exist?”
Her giggle spreads as rapidly through me as her moans do. “About five years.” She doesn't allow for me to interrogate further. “What about you? How long have you been an escort?”
I shoot her a stern look over my shoulder. “Stripper.”
Don't waste your breath tryin' to sugar coat it with that exotic dancer bullshit.
Once I realize she did it on purpose, I shake my head, and divert my attention back to cooking. “Couple years.”
“How'd you even get started?”
I add a touch of garlic to the red potatoes that are simmering before turning back around. “I had been livin' in the city for a couple years and at the time was workin' for a movin' company. My boss, saw me, asked me if I wanted to make some real money, and gave me a card with a number on it. At the end of my shift I called it and was given a specific location and time. When I showed up, she placed a chair in the middle of the room and demanded me to strip. I thought she was nuts.”
Rory's eyes light up in joy. “And yet you did it anyway.”
“Hadn't done more than two step before that moment.” I shrug. “Had no fuckin' idea, what I was doing. But I did it. And at the end, she offered me a helluva opportunity.”
“What made you go for it?”
The memories of the past I was attempting to escape, that is now finally catching back up to me causes me to shrug again. “Figured, I'd spent enough of my life already playin' it safe. I moved to the city to take some risks. It was hella time I took a real one.”
The moment French offered me a true change in life style I hadn't even considered before it was hard to resist. I'd spent my whole life playin' it safe. Goin' to the college I was supposed to. Meetin' the people I was instructed to. Datin' the women who fit into the mold I assumed I had to fill. It was a helluva rush to do somethin' I never imagined myself doin' in a million year. Believe it or not seein' the cash payout possibility wasn't the allure. The family business comes with that many zeros too.
“What about you? How'd you get into....dealing with those no longer alive?”
“The dead,” she casually says. “It's okay. You can say it.”
My face twitches a smile.
“I basically grew up there. So not there there, like where we have the funeral home now, but in the old location.”
Pulling the steak off the grill, I push for more information. “Your parents worked there too?”
“No.”
�
�They work there now?”
“They died when I was younger, which is why I grew up in a funeral home.”
The information swivels me back around as soon as both pieces of meat are on our plates. “At the same time?”