by Fawn Lowery
The nighttime air was cool against her skin. She couldn't resist the urge to open her eyes and view Ramon in the moonlight. The whisper of the water seemed to soothe any doubt that surfaced in Lorna's mind about what she was doing. When Ramon pulled a thick cushion from a nearby lounge and threw it on the deck, she knew he meant to take her on it. She allowed him to pull her down on the softness. Within moments, he was on top of her.
He was all muscle and brawn and the erotic sensation of male skin melding with her own heated flesh caused her to suck in a quick breath. Ramon's hair-roughened chest met her bare breasts and taut nipples with a degree of quickness born of necessity. A slight smile pulled at one corner of her mouth. Was he afraid she would want to stop once again?
Lorna inched her palms across Ramon's back, his skin smooth and warm, and felt the toned muscles beneath. His mouth found her lips and his tongue pushed inside. His hands were on either side of her head, holding her face in his palms.
“Lorna,” he whispered, pulling his lips briefly from hers. “Lorna, you're beautiful.”
His kisses were deep, long and tender, kisses Lorna associated with caring. A note of uncertainty sprang up in her mind. She had expected a mechanical lover—a man paid to perform, unfeeling, except for orgasm. Male studs had orgasms, didn't they?
His hands left her face and roamed her body, caressing her breasts and traveling down to her crotch. When he delved a finger into her moist core, she hoped it was enough to tell him she was ready to receive his hard length inside her.
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
Chapter 7
Ramon's hard cock filled Lorna's cavern and made her arch to fully open herself up to accommodate him. She opened her eyes and looked up at his hovering form. Silhouetted by the bright moonlight, he appeared more a mirage than a real man. Would a real man be as big as he feels?
Yet, her hands felt his flesh, her breasts felt his heartbeat. But the size of him seemed unreal. She bucked her hips, rising upward to meet his lunges. Stroke after stroke, he slammed into her core, each time releasing a huff of air.
Lorna hadn't expected him to be so audible, her senses alert at the noise crashing through the stillness. But then, it was her first experience with a hired stud. She really didn't know what to expect.
His thrusts brought her to the brink of orgasm. She squeezed her eyes shut and dug her nails into Ramon's muscled butt. So firm. She tried to push aside all thoughts except those associated with orgasm. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust!
The feeling began in her core and quickly shot along her limbs, soaring through her veins like warm honey on fresh bread as the orgasm spread to every pore in her body. She pulled in a deep breath and held it, savoring the sensations spiraling inside her.
His thrusts increased, and Lorna was all too aware that he was reaching a climax of his own. His arms squeezed her body tighter, crushing her chest against his until she thought she couldn't breathe any more. Then he collapsed on top of her, his breathing ragged.
For several minutes, neither of them moved, content to lie still and savor the waning sensations coursing through their bodies. Lorna enjoyed the warmth Ramon's flesh lent to hers and the feel of his arms wrapped tightly around her.
“Would you like to go for a swim?”
His voice was husky. His right hand skimmed up her body to encircle her left breast. He fondled her nipple with his thumb and forefinger. Momentarily, he levered himself up on one elbow and looked down into her face as though waiting for her answer.
Lorna often swam in the nude, once all the neighbors were in for the night. But she usually did it alone—just a quick dip to refresh her senses if she was working late. She'd never had a man join her, but then, she didn't really know anyone she'd invite to frolic nude in the ocean. “Sure,” she answered.
His long length was still inside her, and by all comparisons, he still felt quite hard—
The thought hit home like a fist slamming into her stomach. They hadn't used any protection! Lorna turned her eyes on Ramon and seeing his hesitation at rolling off her body, she realized he was thinking the same thing.
“You're pretty good with your hands, Ramon,” she began, a note of discord in her tone. “But I don't recall you taking the time to put a condom on that long cock of yours.” She pulled in a long breath. “Tell me that I'm wrong.”
He dipped his head, and pressed his forehead against hers. “I'm sorry,” he murmured.
“I'm a week away from getting my period, and we Adams women are known to be exceptionally fertile.”
“You aroused me so—”
“I'm not buying that! You're a professional! And besides, you probably get more sex in a week than the average Joe gets in a lifetime so you have absolutely no excuse for forgetting the damn condom!” By the time she finished her speech, she was livid with anger.
“Do you want me to sign a letter of apology?” he asked, separating himself from her completely. “Do you want my blood?”
“I want your head on a silver platter!”
“Excuse me?”
Lorna scrambled to her feet, so mad she could hardly see straight because he appeared to take the mishap so lightly.
“Listen,” he said, stretching out one hand to grasp her waist. “I don't have any disease, if that's what you're worried about.”
“Disease?” Lorna spewed. “Disease! It's a baby I'm concerned about. What if you just got me pregnant?”
He stared through the darkness at her, unmoving, silent.
“Nine months from now, I could be a single parent. I don't want that.” She raked her fingers through her hair. “When two people bring a child into the world—they should at least know each other, for Pete's sake!”
Suddenly he poked out his right hand. “Lance Bishop,” he said. “Glad to meet you.”
“Lance Bishop?” Lorna echoed. “Where did Ramon go all of a sudden?” She stared at him standing before her in the moonlight, his hand outstretched, and his magnificent body naked. She wished she could see his face, could see his expression.
“Ramon is just a professional name. Look, Lorna, I'm truly sorry, but you really did arouse me to the point that I simply forgot all about gloving up.” He scrubbed one hand across the back of his neck. “I've never once forgotten to use a condom with a woman. Honest.”
Lorna frowned at him. “I'm not concerned with what you have or haven't been doing...well—to a certain degree, I am—”
“Let's go inside,” he insisted, stepping beside her and placing a palm on her back.
“Yes. Let's.” Lorna stepped around his helping hand and entered the living room of her house, turning her feet toward the home office she kept. Maybe she was being ridiculous. “And I would like you to sign something,” she informed him. “Follow me.”
She heard him chuckle slightly as he trailed her down the hallway into her study. He stood calmly before her desk while she scribbled on a sheet of paper. “Here's a pen,” she announced, tossing the written note in his direction. “Sign it—with your real name.”
“Okay,” he replied, picking up the pen in one hand and the sheet of paper in the other. “I promise to support the child I may have made with Lorna Adams, monetarily and emotionally until said child reaches the age of eighteen,” he read out loud. He smiled and glanced across the desk at her. “I'd like to add something to this before I sign it, if you don't mind.”
“What? What do you want to add?” Lorna was so mad her head had begun to throb.
He took the pen and wrote on the sheet of paper then handed it across the desk to her.
“You want me to marry you if I find out I'm pregnant?” She came to her feet after reading his words, her bare breasts bouncing.
Ramon shrugged his naked shoulders. “You said you didn't want to be a single parent.”
“I don't—but I don't think I want to marry a professional stud either.”
He held up one hand, halting her tirade. “Former professional stud. A
s of right now, I'm officially retired.”
Lorna glared at him. Only a few hours earlier, she had hid a laugh as she let him in her house, decked out in purple satin and spandex—now, he stood before her trying to convince her he'd do the right thing if she turned up pregnant.
“I think you better go,” she said, at her wits’ end for anything better to say.
He shook his head. “Can't. I'm contracted for all night.”
Lorna crossed her arms over her bare breasts. Suddenly she didn't want his dark eyes caressing her flesh. His gaze was too intense and a part of her feared he might be able to dissolve her anger, given the least chance.
“My friends will understand,” she said in a condescending tone.
“It's not your friends I'm worried about. I gave my word. I'm not a man who goes back on his word.”
“Well, I want you to leave!”
“Sorry.”
Lorna stared at him, contemplating her next move. He still held the pen in preparation of signing the hasty agreement she had prepared and he appeared the epitome of patience. He even smiled at her.
“Sign the damn agreement,” she muttered her jaw rigid.
“So we're in agreement that if you find out you're pregnant, you'll marry me?” he asked.
“I won't like it. But I'll do it.”
He put pen to paper, but paused. “Is there someone else you'd rather marry?”
Lorna released an audible sigh. “There isn't a man in my life.”
“How can I be certain of that?” he asked, his brows rising in speculation. He tossed the pen on the desk. “What if you're already pregnant and this is just a trick to get me to marry you?”
“Crap!” Lorna spat. “Do you think I'm completely nuts? I'm just trying to protect myself!”
“Then why didn't you think of the condom?”
Her lower jaw dropped open. “How can you say such a thing?” she spewed. She rounded the desk and strode toward the doorway. “I need a drink!”
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
Chapter 8
Lorna gulped the whole glass of champagne, and then poured more into the goblet. Her birthday was turning out to be a big mess. She perched at the kitchen counter, having picked up her clothes off the deck and yanked them on. Ramon—or Lance—had dressed and gathered his things, but he wasn't leaving. He sat slouched in a chair at the breakfast table; his nearly black eyes pinned on Lorna.
“Stop staring at me.”
“I enjoy staring at you. You're a beautiful woman.”
His sentence was meant to disarm her. She threw him a condescending look over her left shoulder, then bristled when she heard him laugh.
“There's no reason to be mad, Lorna. You can trust me to do the right thing.”
She almost choked on the swallow of wine. “Trust you? I don't even know you.”
“How can you say that? We just had sex.”
“Duh! You're a professional male escort, Ramon.”
“Lance,” he corrected.
“Lance!” she yelped. “And you were paid to have sex with me.” She shook her head, finding the whole mess totally bizarre.
“Accidents happen,” he said in a low tone.
Yes. Suddenly the nightmare of Mary's death flashed in her mind and she gritted her teeth trying to make the memory go away. Now was not the time to further burden her mind.
The beeping of a cell phone suddenly penetrated the quiet room and Lorna jerked her head round in time to see Lance making a call. She stared at him while he carried on an amiable conversation. When finally he ended the call, he smiled at Lorna and replaced the phone in his shirt pocket.
“Business?” she inquired, a smirk on her face.
“No. My sister gave birth earlier today and I was checking on her and the baby.”
As if his cavalier attitude wasn't enough, his effort to rub her nose in the mess they both had managed to create, sent Lorna over the edge. She felt ready to explode and leapt off the stool to sock him in the jaw.
“You—”
“Hold on!” Lance cautioned, jumping up and grabbing her fisted hand. “You wanted to know who I was talking to.”
His voice was remarkably calm, though her anger was beyond description. She stood toe to toe with him, her arm stiff as a board and clasped in his strong hand. If there was any way to end the evening—why hadn't she refused to open the door when she spied him on the porch?
All at once, she felt defeated, like a balloon that had suddenly lost its air. Her knees felt weak and tears sprang to her eyes.
“Take it easy,” Lance soothed as he gathered her into his arms. He cradled her head on his shoulder and patted her back with one hand. “Stop worrying. We'll get through this. I promise.”
“You don't know what you're talking about.”
“Sure I do. Listen, I'm not nearly as bad as you think I am.”
His words reverberated through her. He stroked her hair and held her tightly against his chest. She wanted to push out of his arms, to shove him clear across the damn kitchen. If he thought everything would be okay, he was lying to himself. Bringing a baby into the world was serious business—even for married people. Her temples throbbed. Suddenly she just wanted to sleep—and to forget she even existed.
His touch was mesmerizing. The tender way he stroked her hair, the warmth from his hand on her upper back, the sturdy stance of his muscular body as she leaned against him. She closed her eyes in an effort to make everything go away except the serenity he somehow offered her.
Lorna was woozy from the champagne and mentally distraught from their argument. When Lance picked her up in his capable arms and cradled her body against his chest, she merely closed her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder. If only the evening would be over. Lance carried her off to bed.
The alarm clock rang, rousing Lorna from sleep. She reached one hand to the nightstand, shutting off the noise. Rolling onto her back, she opened her eyes. The early morning sunshine sliced across the expansive room, drenching the oak furnishings in yellow elegance.
For a few seconds, she was reminded of last night's antics with the birthday gift Amber and several others at Adams, Incorporated had given her—then she sat upright in bed, her eyes searching the room for the man in question.
Thank God he isn't here!
Lorna scrambled out of bed, pausing briefly as a pain shot through her skull. Damn. She wasn't a drinker and the results of the champagne she remembered downing would probably plague her all day. But that was perhaps the least of her worries. Crossing the room to the door, she realized she was still wearing the shorts and t-shirt she had put on last night.
“At least we didn't have sex again,” she mumbled, recalling how he had carried her to bed.
She padded barefoot down the hallway to the kitchen, expecting to find Lance sprawled in a chair at the table or...
The room was empty. She crossed the floor to the patio doors leading out onto the deck, expecting to see him lying in one of the chaise lounges, only to be disappointed again.
Disappointed?
She questioned her own choice of words. Was she disappointed not to find Lance Bishop still in her midst? Hadn't he insisted he had to stay the night?
Turning her gaze back to the kitchen, she saw the pots of food still on the stove and the dishes on the table. Then she spied the black leather bag he had arrived with.
“He left his sex toys.”
Not entirely convinced that he wasn't somewhere on the premises, she began a room-by-room search of the house only to find she was there alone.
Finally, she refused to think about the man any longer. She showered and dressed to go to the office. As she drove down the coastal highway, she tried to decide what she would say to Amber and the others because they would undoubtedly ask hundreds of questions about her evening with their hired man.
She grimaced and combed her fingers through her hair. Now she had a new worry. Was she pregnant?
“I want to hear all about it!” Amber began, racing into Lorna's office and closing the door. She leaned her back against the solid structure and grinned at Lorna like the Cheshire Cat. “Start talking!”
Lorna blinked her eyes in an exaggerated fashion, hoping to fool Amber into believing she had experienced some sort of wild sexual fantasy at the hands of Ramon.
“Oh!” Amber squealed. “Was Ramon really a stud? I just knew you'd love him!”
Love wasn't exactly the word that came to mind when Lorna thought about Ramon—Lance—but if she told Amber the truth, she'd hurt her friend's feelings. After all, twenty-five hundred dollars was a considerable sum of money for a group of salaried employees to invest.
Amber plopped down in one of the matching leather chairs in front of Lorna's desk. Her brown eyes were luminous with curiosity and her small body was perched on the edge of the chair cushion expectantly. “Come on. Spill it,” she prompted.
Lorna put down her pen and leaned back in her leather desk chair. “I don't know where to begin,” she hedged. It was hard to make eye contact with Amber, especially since she had no intention of fully revealing what had happened with Lance.
“What's wrong?” Amber suddenly asked, the smile fading from her lips. “Was he awful? Couldn't he get it up? He did show up, didn't he?”
Lorna raised one hand to halt Amber's questions. “Yes. He did show up. And yes, he...he got it up...” Her voice trailed off as she lowered her gaze.
“Then what is it? Tell me what happened.” Amber left her chair and perched on the corner of Lorna's desk.
“Well...”
“Well, what? Speak up, Lorna. His website said he specialized in fantasies. It said he had a five star rating from Las Vegas—whatever that means.”
“You found him on the Internet?”
“Yeah. I typed in ‘male escorts’ and his name was listed for our area.”
Lorna heaved an audible sigh and rose from her chair. Things were worse than she thought. She began to relate the evening's events to Amber.