She watched his soft, doe-like eyes and saw only regret inside them.
All the pain.
“Go to Hell, Andrew.”
“Talk to me. Just talk.”
“I’ve wasted enough time on you. I’m not O’s toy. Or your paper doll.”
“Screw O. This isn’t about them. This is about you and me.”
“Is that why you hid from their spy bots like a coward? Because you’re too afraid to tell them you’re out? Or is it because you wanted to have your cake and eat it, too — to tell me the truth, yet let O believe I was hooked on the lie? It’s a spineless way to relieve your conscience, Andrew. It’s the pussy’s way out.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
Chloe waited for Andrew’s reply. She didn’t want to hear more, but a strange magnetism kept her rooted. She hated him more than she’d ever hated anyone, but something in him called to her.
God help me; I did let myself love you.
“We can’t just let this end. I won’t lose you.”
“You already have.”
“What changes, other than the first lie? It’s still me. It’s still you. Can’t we find a way to move past this? I’ll tell you all the details if you want. Believe me, this was the only choice I ever had once it began. I’ve tried to get out. I’ve been dying to tell you. But this was the best way, even if I hated it. And now I actually think we have a chance. When I met with them yesterday, Alexa proposed a kind of compromise.”
Chloe was curious. She’d missed this part. She’d seen nothing on the pirate stream about a compromise.
But she said, “Fuck your compromise.”
“They said that if I found a way to explain how I’ve been and go back to you without the tension between us, they’d leave us alone. They have decided that it’s even better for them to see us together without interference.”
“The way this is supposed to work is I just forgive you, and we go back to how things were?”
“Sort of, I guess.”
“But this wasn’t the deal. You were supposed to tell me a lie. About Alex, and his funeral.”
“I can explain it to them. They only care about the end result.” Andrew looked ready to beg, and Chloe realized that they’d reached the crux of his plea. “They’ll see that what you’ve forgiven doesn’t matter, as long as we’re together.”
“With O’s eyes on everything. To see us au natural. To observe us in the wild, with all of our secrets out in the open.”
“Maybe for a while. But they’d get bored, wouldn’t they? O’s entire operation can’t revolve around you, right?”
If only you knew.
But the last thing Chloe wanted was to share that with Andrew.
She laughed, then turned to leave him, once and for all.
“How is it any different?” Andrew called after her. “Your career puts you on display! You have sex for a living while people watch. Why do you even care?”
Chloe stopped.
Her lips formed a cruel, bittersweet line.
She turned back around. Andrew’s eyes lit with indecision, clearly surprised that he’d nabbed her attention.
“I guess you’re right,” she said.
“I am?”
She walked forward. Spine more upright. Body more fluid.
And she faced him. “I’m a performer at heart, aren’t I? Just like you.”
“Um …”
“You just took a job, like I take jobs. Not really much difference between us, right?”
Andrew’s eyes flicked around, as if anticipating a trap.
“You didn’t know me at all at first, so you pretended to like me. And maybe yes, you learned to love me. But that’s like what I do, isn’t it? I don’t know my clients when they walk through the door. But it’s my job to adapt. To become what they want me to be. And like you, I learn to like all that’s happening. We’re chameleons, you and me.”
Chloe took Andrew by the upper arms. Holding them gently, her hands finally steady.
But there was something else brewing.
Anger. Intense, bone-splitting anger.
Regret.
Revenge.
Hatred.
The wall was already rising inside her mind.
A job in need of doing.
And hot, detached, impersonal lust.
“I guess?” Andrew said.
Chloe slid a hand up his chest. Wanting to rip his skin in her grip. Wanting to puncture his neck with her fingernails, to throttle his throat until he lay dead before her. Wanting to gouge his eyes. Rip off his cock and use it for pleasure without him.
She saw red.
Her nipples hardened.
Her pussy grew furiously wet.
“I don’t know if I told you this, but I always love it when a client fucks me. I always want him. I always come.”
“That’s …”
“When you say it’s no big deal for O to keep right on using us and watching us and moving us around like pieces on a chessboard, I have to agree with you, Andrew.”
“I didn’t mean it exactly like—”
“If that’s how you want it, then that’s how we can play it. I don’t have to love you. Because I always find my way, even with men I hate, to learn to love it.”
“Chloe, I don’t—”
But she was already shoving him. Already leading him. His heels were dragging … but only a little.
He was a man, after all. A man like any other anonymous client.
“You’ve never been with the other Chloe, have you? The famous one, who people pay untold fortunes to fuck?”
Pushing him off the lawn. Behind a twin pair of small sheds. Into a copse of trees. Safe from sight by everything but the patrol bots.
Once alone, Chloe fixed Andrew with her catlike stare.
The one that always sent men to their knees.
How long had it been? She was aroused beyond words.
Her mental wall was back.
Lust and love, and never the two shall meet.
She unbuttoned her shirt. Pulled it off. Put her thumbs inside the waist of her skirt and began to slide it ever-so-slowly down.
“Not like this,” Andrew said. “I don’t want it like this.”
Chloe faced Andrew in her shoes, bra, and panties. He looked terrified but refused to run. He looked repulsed at the turn of events but showed no signs of leaving.
She could read him. Oh, yes, she could. Chloe was an intuitive goddess. She could tell everything about everyone even better than The Beam itself, almost as if she’d been born from within it.
Chloe knelt before him.
She was a foot away.
She looked up.
“Then I’ll make you a deal. If you don’t want me like this, go soft. If you’re determined to make a morally righteous stand, prove it with your cock.”
Andrew held her eyes. He swallowed. “I mean it. I don’t want this.”
Chloe reached out and placed her hand across the front of his pants, feeling the Plasteel-hard presence beneath.
“Liar,” she said.
CHAPTER THREE
Unzipped.
His cock out, harder maybe than Chloe had ever seen or felt it.
His lust for her was urgent; there was no other word. His erection didn’t make much more sense, in a logical world, than the wetness of her pussy. But the hardness was there and the wetness was there and once Chloe had Andrew’s cock out, she wanted nothing more than to get it inside her.
“You don’t want to do this,” Andrew said.
But his voice was weak. Her hand was slowly rubbing him up and down, up and down. His balls were hugged tight to his body as if trying to hasten the process — to shorten the distance between her hand and his orgasm.
“I think I do,” she said.
“But we’re fighting.”
“We’ve fought,” Chloe corrected. “The fight is over. Like us.”
“We’re not over.”
“We’re over,” Chloe insisted. “You lied to me. You betrayed me. You listened to everything I was afraid of, then pretended to be there for me when you were really on the other side, making it worse. Why would you ever think I’d forgive you?”
Andrew looked down. Chloe met his eyes, then slipped his cock between her lips. Its hot weight on her tongue sent a jolt through her body.
If she could fuck an asshole like Falls Hartford and come hard, she could do the same with Andrew.
“I don’t want to do this if we’re over.”
Chloe stopped sucking and looked up with Andrew’s dick still thick between her lips. She half-laughed around his shaft, making it vibrate.
“I mean it. Stop.”
“You’re a big, strong man,” Chloe said, pulling away. “Make me.”
Her lips back on him. His weight sagging back, against the shed.
His cock seemed to grow even larger, even thicker, even harder. She peered up and saw Andrew’s eyes close, his mouth open in a helpless exhale.
She stood in front of him. She bent at the waist, ass toward Andrew, to peel down her panties. She watched the way his eyes moved to her bare pussy. The way his cock twitched in the open V of his jeans. The fascination — the spellbound stare — on his face.
Andrew was easy to read as a black-on-yellow billboard.
He's angry, but mostly at himself.
He doesn’t hate me or even resent me. He really does love me. He can’t live without me. And when this is over, he’ll be worse than destroyed.
But all that lust.
All that desire.
All that NEED.
It formed a loop in Chloe: Andrew’s desire causing her own to magnify.
As he got harder and hotter, so did she.
And as she got wetter, she could feel his pulse quicken. His eyes dilated. The air changed. In her imagination, their love twisted at the edges like paper thrown into a fire.
But it didn’t sift away to ash; instead, it hardened like scored carbon. Became something black and shiny and beautiful and gnarled.
One could become the other.
One could exist without the other, like a defiant flame missing its oxygen.
“Tell me you want me,” she said, a hand on Andrew’s chest.
“I want you.”
“Tell me you want to fuck me like a whore. Tell me you’d pay double.”
“No.”
Chloe leaned in. Kissed his neck.
His cock twitched just inches from her naked pussy, but she wouldn’t touch him again.
Not yet.
Not until he acknowledged what this was, what they’d always been.
Not lovers.
But client and provider.
Not in love.
Two people caught in a transaction.
He wanted her? Then he could have her exactly the same as anyone else with the money to buy her.
“Tell me I’m the hottest escort you’ve ever been with.”
“I’ve never been with an escort. And you’re not—”
“Beg me, Andrew. Beg me to fuck you for free.”
“Chloe …”
Pick a path, Andrew. Fuck me or walk away. Obey your cock or follow your heart by denying me. But either way, mean what you say.
Fine, she imagined Andrew saying. Fine, I’ll fuck you like a whore. Bend over and spread your pussy, whore. Open your asshole for me, whore. I’ll fuck your mouth until you gag. I’ll hold you down until I’m finished because you were just another job for me, and now I’m just another job for you.
She imagined gasping for breath as he pinned her. Imagined how hard she’d come if it happened. If he’d stop insisting on playing both sides.
“If you won’t beg,” Chloe said, “I won’t fuck you.”
“I’ll beg. But I won’t call you a whore.”
Chloe bit her lip, then looked up at Andrew with downcast eyes. One hand trailed fingers across her hard nipples, the other slid between her pussy lips, drawing a line of wetness across her lower belly.
God. She was positively dripping.
“Tell me you want me.”
“I need you.”
She leaned in, still avoiding his bobbing cock. He hadn’t earned the right to be touched there again, though she could crave its heat, feel the muscles working in his legs and stomach, twitching, trying to equalize the pressure.
She kissed her way up his neck.
Andrew sighed.
His hand on her cheek. He turned her face toward his, but Chloe moved past it, to the other side of his neck. His cock twitched. His groin flexed, fucking the air. He was on a razor’s edge. Her lips were hot on his skin.
He tried to turn her face again, but again Chloe dodged.
“Not on the lips,” she said.
“Come here.”
“Never on the lips.”
She moved to his ear. Kissed up to it. And she whispered, “You've never fucked me like this before, but I can make you feel things you’ve never felt. Sensations you’ve never dreamed, when I put you inside me.”
Andrew’s hand was on Chloe’s arm. It clenched, and everything went rigid. She felt warmth on her hip, then looked down in surprise.
Andrew was coming all over her.
It went on and on. He held her. He made quiet, helpless noises.
When his orgasm finished, Chloe reached down and ran a finger through the mess. She held a finger up for him to see. “You’d better not be done.”
Andrew said nothing, still breathless.
Her hand moved to his cock, rubbing along its dry underside, turning it wet. Not a speck of hardness had departed. Not a bit of urgency was gone.
He came at her. Took Chloe by the waist, then lifted her up. Her back struck the shed. He buried his wet shaft inside her, making her cry out in pleasure.
“I love you, Chloe.”
She pushed back. Pushed him away. His cock fell out of her.
“Shut your fucking mouth.”
“I love you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t love you.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I never loved you.”
Emphasis on the “I.” Because this was Escort Chloe who held the wheel, not the silly little girl who’d allowed herself to cross the line.
Escort Chloe barely knew Andrew. With the mental wall back in place, the crazy bitch who’d believed his lies was safely locked in her room, sobbing.
But Escort Chloe didn’t give a fuck.
Escort Chloe had a job to do.
“Take off the rest of your clothes,” she said.
But Andrew was stunned. Maybe he hadn’t heard the emphasis on “I”; maybe he didn’t understand what it meant. Either way, her words were a punch, and with his first load dripping down Chloe’s leg and another chambered behind it, he was still furiously hot for her. No matter what she said, he’d do as he was told if it meant entrance to the promised land.
“Take it back,” he said.
“Strip. Now.”
He slowly began to obey, two facets of Andrew present now just as there were two facets of Chloe. But his sad face said, Take it back, Chloe. Even if you’re mad now, you loved me once.
Chloe didn’t respond. Her anger was the best aphrodisiac. They moved together. The more she hated this man, the harder he’d get it.
“I won’t do it this way.”
He said while standing now completely nude, cock rigid as a girder.
“I don’t just want to have sex with you if I can’t have all of you.”
He said, his dick dripping, eyes devouring every inch of her nude body.
“Tell me you didn’t mean that,” he said, idly stroking his shaft, eyes stalled on the space between Chloe’s legs, her lips blushed bright pink.
Her hand out, for his cock.
His hand out, for her wet slit.
“Tell me—”
Chloe shoved him back.
He struck the shed.
Chloe rose to her tiptoes, reaching down to guide him inside.
Andrew’s flapping lips were blessedly silenced as she rode him, slicking his dick with her juices. He could only pant. And groan. Be the sex toy she needed.
Her hands around his neck.
Her legs up, tight around his waist, ankles locked just below his ass. She rose up and down while he stood, lost in abandon. And she came instantly, the orgasm practically crippling her.
She lost her grip. Slowly, she half-fell at his feet. And she looked up and knew without a doubt: This is how he wants me right now. Even with all his protests, this is Andrew’s greatest fantasy.
Because Chloe Shaw was the best.
Because she could handle clients better than anyone, read minds with laser precision.
Because Andrew was like any client.
Hot.
Willing.
Eager.
And ultimately disposable.
Chloe clenched her pussy, gripping him. She shifted, sending clenching waves upward, squeezing him without moving.
And then she did.
Faster. And faster. Angrier. And angrier.
She wouldn’t look down.
Chloe arched her back, making her breasts stand out, her eyes up.
She fucked him. And scratched him. Hit him again.
She shouted. Screamed in ecstasy, daring pedestrians or DZ cops to investigate. Only after seeing the surprise on Andrew’s face below did Chloe check her cheeks and find herself crying.
Despite the miasma of emotion, Chloe focused on the need.
The need.
Up.
And down.
Tight.
And tighter.
There was only friction. Only sensation.
The man below her could be anyone.
It was anyone.
And she certainly didn’t care about him. Not at all.
Why would she?
Andrew groaned and thrust hard up into her. Chloe felt him come, filling her pussy with his warmth. Drips ran down onto his root.
Chloe closed her eyes and came again, harder and darker and hotter and sadder than all the stars in the universe.
She came back into herself in a rush, looking down at Andrew, seeing the confusion and loss on his face. Her own face was hot. Drenched. When she touched her cheeks, her fingers came away a bluish black.
She quickly climbed off of his burning body. Tugged on her skirt and zipped it. Pulled on her blouse but barely bothered with the buttons.
The Agile Four Page 3