I looked up into Zac’s face. His eyes had darkened, the blue taking on almost navy shades, and he looked as though he wanted to devour me.
“Are you sure?” he growled. “You’ve got one more chance to say no.”
I nodded. “I’m sure,” I whispered, breathless with desire.
His lips grazed mine, a soft, teasing kiss.
“I can’t let you walk away again,” he said, his voice hoarse with lust. “Because this is what I want. I want to taste every part of you. I want you moaning and writhing under me, I want you weak and helpless. I want you to scream my name, over and over again. Say it.”
“Zac,” I breathed. I could feel his hardness pressing against me, strong and insistent, and I rolled my hips up and down, feeling my crotch rubbing against his erection. I moved slowly, enjoying the sensation. “Zac…”
“I want to press my face against those gorgeous breasts of yours, and I want to feel those nipples under my fingertips. I want to squeeze them and rub them till they’re hard, and I want you to squeal with pleasure and pain. I’m going to rip off your panties and leave you a soaking mess, and then I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to take my time, and I’m going to make you scream until you’re hoarse.” He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back slightly, so that I was leaning away from him and looking into his intense eyes. “Do you understand me?”
I felt my face flaming. I was already dripping wet. Surely he could see the effect he had on me? I nodded mutely, wishing I could look away, but he was peering at me intently, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“What do you want, Allie?”
“I – I want you.”
“Say it.”
“I – ” I dropped my eyes and whispered, “I want you to fuck me.”
And then his lips were on mine, hard and insistent. He didn’t intend to let me get away, said his mouth, and his tongue probed against mine, his lips sucking and demanding. He pulled me against him, pressing our chests together, and as we kissed I moved my hips, trying to feel his erection through our clothes.
Zac leaned back and broke the kiss. “Wrap your legs tighter.”
I did as he said, and then he stood up and carried me over to the bed. Zac leaned down until I was lying on it, and I unwrapped my legs. He took a step back, and tossed off his shirt, and I gawked unashamedly – he was ripped. His chest was broad and strong, and his stomach flat and rippled with the outline of a six-pack. Why did he bother to wear shirts? Men like him should walk around shirtless all day long. I wanted to trace my hands up and down, I wanted to feel those firm muscles under my fingertips, I wanted to lick them slowly and taste his smooth, tan skin.
Zac didn’t seem to notice me staring like I’d never seen such perfect abs before – which I hadn’t – and he undid his belt and stepped out of his jeans. “I can’t wait,” he said softly, as he threw his jeans over to the corner. “I just want to make you come, right now.”
“Then do that.”
The bulge in his underwear was massive, and I couldn’t wait for him to get completely naked.
“No,” he said, smiling wickedly. “You’ll wait.”
Eight
I moaned softly. I’d do anything he said, but I didn’t want to wait. I arched my back, forcing my breasts to strain against my lacy bra, hoping he’d be tempted to fuck me roughly – the way I wanted it. He glanced at my chest, and came and sat on the bed. “Your trick’s working.”
“What trick?” I batted my eyelashes innocently, but he didn’t smile.
His fingers were on my shirt, undoing the buttons, flipping the fabric away. There were my breasts. Small, round, and suddenly very powerful. They were covered with a flimsy bra, and I pushed myself up to get rid of the shirt, and unhooked the bra. “Do you want me to take it off?”
Zac’s eyes were glued to my breasts, so I supposed that was a yes. I tossed away the bra, and suddenly felt shy. I folded my arm across my chest in a V, and Zac pushed me back on the bed and leaned over me, so that I was lying on my back and looking up into his eyes.
“Remove the arm.”
His eyes were unsmiling, his voice unaccepting of any contradictions. I did what he said, and lay there nervously, my arms by my sides. He sat up again, and his eyes moved lower. They settled on my nipples for a long time, and then they travelled lower, taking in my stomach, my belly button, and my exposed lower stomach. Once again, he seemed to be burning my image into his brain.
My face was flaming with heat. I felt so exposed, even though I was still wearing my skirt and panties. His eyes drank me in, licked me with their dark lust. Our bodies weren’t touching, but I could feel the electricity flowing from his eyes and raking along my body. I looked away and bit my lower lip.
I wanted him to say something, anything, but he didn’t. He just looked at me silently. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I moved my arm, as though to cover myself again. He slapped my wrist sharply, and I gasped and moved my arm back.
“You will do what I say,” he said darkly. “You don’t want me to punish you.”
“Oh.”
He’d punish me. The thought sent strange ripples flowing through my stomach, and I tried not to moan.
He leaned over and kissed me, his lips barely grazing mine. I tried to move up and press against him, but he moved away instantly, leaving me a mess of nerves. This was torture.
“Move your hands above your head.”
I did as he said, too nervous to disobey. My breasts rode up, and I closed my eyes. I felt his hands, on both sides of my waist, and then they moved up slowly, along the side of my body. I moaned.
“Open your eyes,” he said. “I want to watch you.”
But you are watching me.
I didn’t say that, of course – I opened my eyes. His face was grim and dark with desire, and he stroked the side of my body, tracing up and down gently, making me want more. I groaned, annoyed.
Zac smiled, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “What is it?”
I bit my lip and felt my face flush. “You know what it is.”
“Say it.”
“I want more,” I managed to choke out.
“More what?”
“I want – I want your hands on my breasts.”
“Like this?”
He cupped my breasts gently from below.
I twisted away angrily. “That’s just making it worse!”
“Then how?”
I hated the amusement in his voice, hated that he was forcing me to speak, so I stayed silent.
“I want to hear what you want.”
His hands moved away, and I sighed. “I want – I want you to rub my breasts.” I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I want you to be rough.”
His hands were on my breasts immediately – big, warm hands that pressed down and kneaded and rubbed me just right. I made happy, contented noises.
“Yes,” I moaned, not wanting to jinx it. What if he went away? “More.”
And I got more. He rubbed first one way and then another, and I moaned again. And then my nipples – oh, God. I groaned loudly as he pinched them between his thumb and forefinger, and then he twirled them gently. He was making them hard, harder then they’d ever been, and then his mouth grabbed one and sucked. He moved on to the other breast and sucked again, taking it further into his mouth.
He moved away and I felt fingers toying with one nipple, and another hand slipped under my skirt. His finger found my clit and pressed down, hard and insistent over my soaking panties and I screamed softly. He slipped his fingers under the drenched fabric and stroked down, and then back up again, and he rubbed my sensitive nub once more. I was swollen and wet, and my nipples were so hard I couldn’t take any more. I felt something building in my lower stomach, and then my world exploded. As his fingertips toyed with my delicate bundle of nerves, I felt everything go black, and then there was an explosion of colors and I was wet and clenching and moaning, my body bucking up and down under his hands.
Zac said someth
ing, but I didn’t hear. My voice was loud and strange, like it belonged to someone else, and the pressure flowed out of me in a rush. When it was over, I opened my eyes, shocked and exhausted. Zac was smiling – was that pride I saw on his face?
“You were beautiful,” he said.
And then he ripped off my panties.
I whimpered and tried to speak, not really sure what I was saying. I was exhausted and happy, and I heard Zac said, “I want you to scream some more.”
“Zac,” I said weakly, trying to protest. I wasn’t sure what I was protesting.
He pushed my legs up, spreading them apart, and my skirt flopped down, exposing my most private parts. The air hit me there, cold and arousing, and I bit my lip.
“That’s my name,” he said hoarsely, “I want you to say it again.”
“Zac.”
He buried his head between my legs, and his tongue licked my delicate nub. I screamed, feeling myself swelling again, the desire rushing back in.
“Say it,” he repeated, and then his mouth was on my clit, nuzzling and sucking and licking. I screamed again, wordless with desire, unable to think straight.
His mouth moved lower, teasing and stroking and licking. This was torture. But it was the sweetest kind of torture. I moaned, repeating his name over and over again like a sexy mantra, pushing my hips lower and lower, pressing myself against his mouth. His tongue speared my clit, and I felt myself being pushed off the cliff again. I screamed his name once again as the world went blank and everything swelled and throbbed and ebbed out of me.
When I opened my eyes, Zac was lying on the bed next to me, propped up on one elbow.
He smiled. “Worth waiting for?”
I nodded. And then I glanced down – the bulge in his underwear was big and hard and oh-so-tempting. Before I knew it, I’d reached down and I traced my fingers up and down, feeling him, wanting him. I hooked my fingers under the waistband and pulled it down, freeing his large erection. I stared for a second, and Zac grinned and wriggled out of the underwear.
“Ready for more?”
I met his eyes, surprised that there would be more. I wasn’t sure that I could handle more. But I nodded. I heard the rip of a foil packet, and Zac sheathed himself quickly, and then he shifted, so that his weight was on top of me, pressing down.
I spread my legs apart and wrapped them nervously around his waist. It felt different, now that we no longer had any clothes between us. He angled himself, and I felt him pressing against my drenched entrance, and then his mouth was on mine. He took his time kissing me, his mouth slow and lazy, as though he had no reason to rush.
After a while, he pulled his mouth a few inches away from mine and looked at me carefully. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Yes,” I breathed.
He pushed in slowly, and I gasped at the sensation. It hurt a little, and I tried to distract myself by focusing on Zac’s shoulders. They were broad, strong and muscled. I traced my eyes down his arm, along the bulge of his biceps, and up again.
“Are you ok?”
He looked at me carefully, as he shifted his hips and inched inside me.
I bit my lower lip and nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“We can stop if you want,” he said, but I shook my head furiously.
“No,” I whispered. I didn’t want to stop. I wanted him. I wanted him inside me, and I wanted him to experience all the explosions I’d just enjoyed. “I want you. I want you inside me.”
He groaned and shifted again, kissing me slowly as he inched all the way inside. His lips moved away to my earlobe, and then they started a slow, torturous journey down the side of my neck. I moaned, happy and relaxed despite the pain below.
As he moved, the pain ebbed away, replaced by something different. Gradually, I found myself moaning louder and louder, enjoying the full sensation inside me, and I inched my hips upward, taking him in deeper. Zac froze, and then he started to move again.
“Faster,” I whispered, longing for more, but Zac just shook his head.
“Not this time.”
His hand cupped my breast, and he squeezed it gently as our hips moved in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. I called out, feeling the familiar pressure building inside and I heard Zac’s voice, deep and soothing, “Not yet.”
His fingers traced lazy concentric circles around my breast, teasing me and avoiding my nipple. I groaned angrily, thrusting my hips, and after what seemed like an eternity, he pinched my nipple tightly.
“Now,” he said.
Nine
I closed my eyes, parted my lips, and unclenched every part of me that was holding back. I felt him throbbing inside me, and my muscles clenched and unclenched, and I let the climax take over me. The waves washed over my body, and as I moaned, I heard Zac groan. I felt him jerk stiffly, and I knew he’d come inside me.
I opened my eyes and we looked at each other. I was almost surprised by what I’d done, and how good it felt. Zac pulled away and lay on the bed beside me.
“Five minutes,” he whispered, and grinned wickedly. “There’s more to come.”
I smiled shyly. I felt sore and happy, and I missed him already, missed the connectedness of our bodies fused together. I cuddled against his chest. He smelled like citrus and sweat and leather, and I bit his lower lip playfully. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”
“Me too.”
“Especially now the money’s not involved.”
His muscles flexed and he pulled away slightly. “What?”
“You know,” I said, too exhausted to see the wariness in his eyes. “Now that… you just gave me the money.”
“I did.”
“It wasn’t for the sex.”
There was a pause, and Zac said stiffly, “Yes, it was. Why else are you here?”
I stared at him. “Because… I wanted to be here.”
He sat up slowly, shaking his head. “I thought you were ok with the whole arrangement.”
My brows knit. “I didn’t realize there was any arrangement.”
Zac pushed himself up and padded around the room, picking up his discarded clothes. “I can’t do this if you’re deluding yourself that there’s no arrangement.”
I pressed myself up into a sitting position. Zac was facing away from me and I said, “I don’t get it.”
Zac shook his head and continued looking away from me. “It was a mistake. I should’ve gone with a professional, not some girl who’s never been an escort before.”
He was about to go into the bathroom and I jumped up, grabbing the sheets off the bed in an attempt to cover up my nakedness. “Wait!”
He turned and looked at me, and I saw that his eyes were filled with sadness. The hollowness I’d noticed before had come out to the forefront, no longer hiding in the shadows, and I gaped at him, baffled by the sudden change.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “We were having fun.”
Zac shook his head and looked at me sadly. When he spoke, his voice was deadened, and sounded as though it were coming from somewhere far away. “We weren’t having fun. I was paying you for a service. You seem to have misunderstood.”
His eyes bore into mine, flat and suddenly disinterested. I glanced at the bills lying on the TV cabinet, and then back at him. “Why– why can’t we…?”
I didn’t understand what was going on, and there was no way I could make words come together to form the question I wanted to ask.
“We can’t. Unless you understand that this isn’t anything but a paid gig.”
I wanted him. I wanted things to go back to the way they were just seconds ago. I wanted us to be back in that bed, I wanted to be huddled against his warm, strong chest.
I wanted to feel his arm around me, protective while we rested for a bit, the tiny blonde hairs on his chest tickling my nose. And then I wanted to do more of what we’d just done – more of the teasing and panting and screaming. Just thinking about enjoying him inside me again was starting to make me wet.
&n
bsp; Just lie. I parted my lips, and tried to admit that I was just doing this for the money. I couldn’t.
I stared down at the floor and shook my head. “No,” I said softly. “I really liked it. I was having fun. You said you’d given me the money, that it wasn’t – for my services.” Even saying the word felt dirty. “I want you.” I looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Why can’t we have fun?”
His eyes hardened and he shook his head. “We can’t. I’m getting dressed and going out for a long walk. When I come back to this room, I want you gone.”
I clutched the white bed sheet to my chest and frowned. “Why can’t we do it if you’re not paying me?”
I was turning into a clingy, neurotic one-night-stand – scratch that, I was a clingy, neurotic whore. Except, I wasn’t even that.
Zac shook his head, his expression not revealing anything. “We can’t. Don’t ask me to explain.”
He disappeared into the bathroom, and I heard the sound of splashing water.
I sunk onto the bed and dropped my head into my hands. I couldn’t figure out what was going on: was Zac some kind of crazy psycho who lured girls up for sex, and then walked out on them? He claimed the money was for sex – for one night together. We’d had sex, I still had the soreness to prove that, but if he walked out now before the night was over, would he want to take the money with him?
My shock and disappointment were replaced by a sudden flash of anger. That money was mine. I’d earned it. I deserved it. And no way was I giving it back. The sounds of water stopped, and I dashed over to the TV cabinet and grabbed the bills. I hesitated for a moment – if I put the money in my bag and he wanted it back, Zac could just reach in and take it. I could hear shuffling from the bathroom, and I figured that was he putting on his clothes. I had to think fast.
I grabbed one of the cushions from the sofa, unzipped the cushion cover, and stuffed the money inside, trying to spread it around. I zipped up the cushion cover again, and put in back on the sofa. I heard the bathroom door opening, grabbed my jacket and slipped it on, suddenly scared.
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