Provocative Professions

by S. E. Hall

  "Lucy, scram!" I groan, leaving my eyes shut as I blindly reach a hand back to swat her away. Damn cat!

  She tries again, rubbing her hand—

  "What the hell?" I scream, shooting up to find the owner—obviously not a cat—of the hand that was just groping my ass. "Vaughn, you better hope I'm still dreaming and you're not actually in my bed!"

  And this, friends, is why we don't speak in our "others can hear me" voice until fully awake and coherent. Because I'm only now registering that I just told the handsome face currently battling back his smirk that I was dreaming he was in my bed. Son of a bitch.

  "Lie back down, Snugglebutt, it's too early." He pats the spot beside him.

  "Vaughn! My bed." I squint my eyes and tilt my head. "Why are you in it? And Snugglebutt? I just threw up a little."

  "Shhhh." He winks then points to the ceiling. My room is dark, but enough morning light's filtering its way through the window that I distinctly catch the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. This morning they're a steely blue, like jeans that started dark and got washed a million times.

  I'm forced to break my stare when my ears finally communicate the racket above us to my brain. "Oh my God!" I gasp, eyes popped wide and jaw dropped. "You weren't kidding." I lie down on my back, hands folded over my stomach, and stare up. "It's like, six in the morning!" I whisper shout.

  "They love morning sex," he explains, then turns his attention to me. "As do I." He scoots flush against my side, a very large erection gouging into my hip as he buries his face in my hair.

  "Yes, yes, yesssss!" my cousin—my book reading, cat loving, always blushes and wears her hair in a bun cousin—wails from above. I cringe in humiliation for her. It's kickass she's finally getting some, but I doubt the whole building cares to celebrate with them.

  "Why aren't you in her bed? You know, the empty one down the hall?" I shove his head away, but he only grins and rests his forehead back against my cheek. "I feel like I should warn you, I own a gun. And I'm an excellent shot."

  "I know I don't have to point it out to you, my lil' shower spy," he lifts his head and winks, "but I'm a guy. Empty bed of roommate's woman," he holds up his left hand, "or bed of smokin' hot single Firecracker." He then holds up his right, moving them up and down like weighing scales. "No dicker—climbing in with you every time."

  "Shawwww!" Amelia draws out her moan, rattling the damn ceiling, but I'm not distracted; amazing in itself.

  "No dicker?" I ask him.

  "What, you think I'd say 'no brainer' when we both know that's not what made the decision for me? Just being honest." He shrugs and grins. "Definitely a no dicker. Now come 'ere." He slings an arm across my stomach and drags me to him.

  "Did you even hear the part about the gun?"

  "Yup." He skims his nose along my shoulder, then down my arm, inhaling. "Good for you, there're a lot of crazies out there."

  "Out where? He's in my bed," I quip.

  "Give it to me, Amelia, right fucking now," a deep, male command resounds. Shaw, I assume, whom I met once via wave across the parking lot.

  "Hang on, you gotta hear this." Vaughn laughs, glancing up.

  "Oh, oh, Shaw," Amelia pants, then…squeals the most annoying, skin-peeling sound ever made in the history of noise.

  "Holy shit!" My hand flies to cover my mouth.

  "Told ya, like a baby pig in brand new mud." He roars in delighted entertainment, watching me, and I can't help but join him. Not only are his bright, dancing eyes and the curve to his lush mouth contagious, but if you don't laugh, you'll go insane.

  "That can't possibly be real," I manage through my laughter. "What the hell is he doing to her?"

  His eyes shift into smoldering curiosity and his tongue glides along his bottom lip. "Haven't you ever lost control like that?"

  "God no. Nothing human sounds like that."

  "What's your noise, Paige Patterson?" he growls, stroking one foot up my calf as we lie on our sides, facing each other.

  "I don't have one anywhere near that loud. I'd never fake anything just to boost a guy's ego. He either gets the job done or he doesn't." I pop the shoulder I'm not resting on. "And even if he does accidentally stumble his way into giving me a mini-gasm, it would never constitute that." I point up. "And there's no way you've really made a woman get that loud. Admit it." I quirk one eyebrow and simper, suddenly wanting very much to ruffle his feathers.

  "Paige," he rumbles in warning, but his Adam's apple bobs and nostrils flare, telling me I'm winning.

  "What? It's no big deal. Oh sorry, I didn't mean not big like that." I cover my antagonistic giggle. "I meant, you don't have to admit it. I was just razzin' ya."

  "If you wanna see my dick, ask, like a big girl," he dares right back.

  Do I want to see it? Shit, who am I trying to snow? I've wondered length, width, and curve or no curve at least twenty times just this conversation alone.

  "I wanna see your dick," I respond, blunt and unapologetic.

  Without further ado, his face also stoic and intense, he throws back the blanket revealing the gray boxer briefs, his only clothing, and whips it out. Just like that.

  Well, the whole bark worse than his bite theory just died on the vine. Vaughn Stone is hung like a prize bull, and no curve. Sure, sure, I mean, why wouldn't he be freakishly packing? I've suspected all along, and now have firsthand—well, first-eye, I haven't touched it yet— confirmation that the "cock of the walk" confidence he exudes is completely and understandably warranted.

  But I don't need him to know that. And I've already ogled the abnormally thick, intimidatingly lengthy member of this impromptu party too long, so…I do what I always do and make a snarky joke of deflection.

  I roll over and grab my phone, then quickly face him once more. "I want a picture of that beast!" I rib, acting like I'm really going to do it.

  "Ah, Firecracker." He lunges for me and I flush in embarrassment at the squeal he conjures from me as an intriguing game of keep-away ensues. "You don't need a picture, the real thing's right here. You think you can handle it?" He wrestles the phone out of my hand, tossing it aside all while remaining on top of me.

  Every last inch of him covering me, my hands pinned up over my head, I groan, squeezing my eyes shut. I'd poked the beast and now that he's calling my bluff, my cold feet are screaming at me. Something tells me games with Vaughn might test everything about myself, and some things I've yet to discover. It suddenly hits me—for the first time ever, I might actually lose.

  "Just because you've got it, doesn't mean you know how to use it," I pant, turning my head to the side.

  "Paige," he grazes the tip of his tongue up my now exposed neck in lazy torture, "I could make you come until you scream stupid without even using my dick. The ways I'd satisfy this tight fucking body of yours…" He licks the shell of my ear before gruffly whispering into it, "I would have you so wet, that cock that's got your eyes bulging and heart racing would slide right in."

  Damn myself, I moan and shift under him, seeking contact.

  "You're dripping for me right now. Admit it." He uses my own taunt against me, grinding his erection in between my quivering thighs.

  Head still turned away and eyes closed, I nod and he thrums in approval.

  "That's good." He nips at my earlobe, neck, shoulder. "I'd like to do something about that for ya, but you're gonna have to look at me first. Why so shy now, hmmm? That smart mouth all talk?"

  He's good, saying exactly what he should to ensnare me. In one swift move, I roll us, gaining the top position with a triumphant grin of my own. "How's this for all talk?" It comes out more raspy than playful, but the sizable distraction wedged against my pussy is doing jumbling things to my badass facade.

  "Very cute," he says, gripping my waist. I yelp as he rolls us again, pinning me flat on my back, "but you don't run this show, Hotshot. I'm glad to see you're not a dud, though. That firecracker you light, hurry away, and nothing happens, then you're unsure if you can creep back
up to it or not. I knew the spark in you was real." He traps both my wrists in his left hand and glides his right down my side, brushing the side of my breast and pushing up the bottom of my tank. "And I'm about to watch you explode."

  I knew I loved that nickname.

  "Sweet lil' belly, babe." His head dips to suck and kiss at my navel, flicking my belly button ring with his tongue. "Sexy, but I'm dying to see this." He pulls down one side, then the other, back and forth, 'til I'm without my shorts.

  "I don't have any condoms," I seethe, wishing my hands were free to slap myself.

  "Not gonna fuck ya." He tears his eyes, riveted on my pussy, away to meet mine and winks. "Yet."

  "Wh-what?"

  With a quick, soft laugh, he lowers his head again, this time brushing his lips across mine. "Mmm hmm," he hums, slipping his tongue into my mouth, warm and caressing, but equally rough and virile.

  I struggle against his lock on my wrists, wanting to touch him, but he just chuckles through our kiss, apparently finding sadistic pleasure in driving me mad. First it's wild, an open mouth devouring, then leisurely, almost tender and…loving?

  No, as soon as the absurd thought crosses my hazy mind, he adds small bites, only to start over again.

  It's a mouth fucking and it's phenomenal.

  When he finally breaks from my lips, both of us heaving breathlessly, an easy smile alights his face. "May not fuck you yet, but I am about to eat that pretty bare pussy of yours 'til you come all over my face. You want that?"

  "Yes," I whisper, shocked what his graphic, but surprisingly not crude or offensive, words do to my resolve or whatever lame attempt at refusal I was even contemplating.

  "Get your shirt off," he grumbles, releasing my hands, entranced with his own progression up the inside of my thighs, "now."

  I sit up and pull my tank free, then lie back down, breath rushing out in excited anticipation. I've never been the recipient of such lavishing—a blow to get him hard followed by quick, unfulfilling fucks and fast talking lies are all I've ever known. Even with Corey, who I at least felt comfortable with since he knew me better than most, wasn't a fourth as built as Vaughn is, and he never made me laugh.

  "Fucking perfect tits, Firecracker." His praise is a gritty rumble from deep in his chest as he cups them both, squeezing, rubbing, and finally taking one into his mouth. When he bites the nipple and I arch my back, he slips a finger inside me, drawing out my prolonged sigh of ecstasy. I flex my inner muscles around his digit and he withdraws from my breast, laughing lightly. "Your tight lil' pussy sending me Morse code, babe?"

  "Need—"

  "What?" Oh, this man, grinning all cocky down at me, eyes aglow knowingly. "Wanna hear that sassy mouth say it." He dips a finger inside me and drags it back and forth, pressing harder on my already strained, pulsing muscles. One teasing swipe against that spot and he winks. "Found it, didn't I? You better say it, beautiful."

  "Vaughn," I whine, ashamed but unable to resist. I want this man. In so many mysterious ways.

  "I know my name, Paige." He adds his thumb to my clit and licks his lips. "Now tell me what you want me to do to you, exactly. Talk real dirty. I like it."

  "I…I want you to—"

  "Uh huh," he prompts, pulling out his wet finger and sneaking it to—

  "No! Not that!" I jerk, arms flying, squirming away, which he prevents with little effort.

  He gut laughs, head tossed back. "We'll work up to it. Better be specific then, huh?"

  "Eat my pussy, Vaughn," I manage between gasps. "Please."

  "Fuck yeah," he grunts, slithering down between my legs and spreading my thighs painfully wide.

  It all happens at once, an exquisite barrage of his mouth, tongue, and fingers that has me wriggling to flee, yet pressing harder against his face, hands fisting the sheets for leverage. White spots are black, my shrieks and moans sound miles away, and the unyielding vibrations of his growling tickle my pussy fantastically.

  Conversation be damned, this is what his mouth was made to do. I have no idea exactly how he's managing, aware only that his fingers take special care of the g-spot I thought was mythical, his mouth and tongue suckling over both sides of my labia and simultaneously teasing my clit with glorious nips. He's a vagina voodooist!

  I come, hard, long, and loud, barely able to catch my breath before he's at it again. No reprieve. Two fingers re-enter me, taking turns with his tongue driving in and out of my core, lapping up my pleasure. The deliriously filthy sounds echoing around the room.

  "No," I beg, depleted. "No more! Please, enough!"

  He ignores me, working even harder for my next release, his fingers finding my g-spot again and pressing in with no relent, one fingertip of his other hand lightly teasing at my ass, tongue licking deep in every crease as his teeth scrape against my clit.

  "I can't!" I writhe as though seizing. "Not again, I can't!"

  "Paige!"

  Um, not his voice shrieking! My eyes fly open at the same time as my bedroom door.

  "Are you okay?"

  I groan in mortification, covering my red-hot face with my hands, a worried Amelia having busted in on us. But Vaughn?

  "Stop!" I squeeze my thighs against the sides of his head, since our audience has done nothing to cease his ministrations below. "Vaughn, stop!" I yell again, and he finally pops his head up.

  "What?" he snaps, pulling my hands away from my face and following my humiliated gaze to the doorway where a shocked Amelia and amused Shaw stand frozen in place.

  "See," Shaw leans into her ear but fails to whisper, "I told you he wasn't hurting her. The sounds of indulgence are pretty recognizable, Beauty." He laughs and pats her ass.

  "But I heard you, Paige. You said 'stop, no more, please,'" she blathers, confused. "Several times."

  "What?" I ask, slowly dying of embarrassment even though my cocky cohort seems unfazed, covering us with the blanket and moving up to lie beside me. "I am not that loud!"

  "You would've been." Vaughn smacks a kiss on my cheek and pulls me closer with an arm around my shoulder. "I was just getting' started. You really like it when I—"

  "Shut it, Stone!" I cut him off with a hand slapped over his mouth, then look to Amelia. "He's right." I shrug, no shame left to be had. "But how you two can hear anything over each other, I can't possibly fathom."

  She blushes crimson and holds up her phone, a call from me running on the screen. "I take it you butt dialed me?" she mumbles, burying her face in the shaking chest of Shaw, who's still snickering at my exposed expense.

  My phone. "Where'd you throw it?" I hiss at Vaughn, also now giggling like a girl.

  He lifts the covers, moves around, "checks" under my ass, finally locating it down by our feet. "Found it!" he boasts, holding it up and mercifully pressing end on the call.

  "Can you please leave?" I ask them, then stare directly at Vaughn. "You too."

  There's nothing but annoyance glaring back at me, but he stands, discreetly tucking his cock—stunning even when soft—back into his boxer briefs. "I assure you," he speaks to our spectators, "I would never hurt Paige. Now, mosey along," he does the shooing thing with his hands, "nothing more to see here. Which I can't thank you enough for," he grinds out with blatant, inconvenienced sarcasm.

  Chapter 6

  "You seem…" Harlow digs around her mouth for the right word, "happy?"

  What with my downright bubbly personality and insatiable hunger to "chat with a few girlfriends," I toss out a small titter and shrug as I stow my bag under the counter. "What can I say? If my epicenter's feeling good, it shoots out sunshine signals to the rest of me."

  Poor Harlow is baffled silent, obviously debating if I'm being a snarky bitch or truly have the driest sense of humor on the planet.

  Little of both.

  Can't help it. Genetics or something.

  "So what's new with you, blondie?" I ask, guilt propelling me to relieve the wrinkle in her brow.

  "Well, um," is all she gets out befo
re I'm attacked…she'd probably call it a hug. There's sobbing, blubbering, and lots of snot; it's not pretty.

  Another fine example of why I never pledged Chi Kappa Crybaby. But seeing as how she's likely to remain attached until I say something, I clear my throat and take a stab at it. "Harlow," stiff pat on her shoulder, "is there someone I can hurt for you?"

  "Wow, you're worse at that than I'd have guessed." The slick, baritone pester from behind me sends a dash of zest up my spine and I manage, amidst Harlow's clinging limbs, to turn my head.

  "I thought you were off for a few days?" I ask one simpering Vaughn Stone, obviously getting mass enjoyment over my newly acquired Siamese twin…or more likely, the agonized scowl I know I wear.

  "Get her off me," I mouth to him in pleading desperation, earning his deep, rumbling laugh, but he does move to help.

  "Harlow?" he asks in a soothing voice, coming behind the counter and approaching us slowly, disengaging her tentacles from around me. "Let's turn Paige here loose and let her get to work before she sinks those fangs of hers in. Whaddaya say?"

  Freed, I take a few hurried, large steps back, sighing in relief.

  "She only likes it when certain people touch her," he explains to Harlow, but lifts one side of his talented mouth and winks at me.

  With concerted effort, I give him a dramatic gag and eye roll before starting to switch out the register drawers. "Harlow, you have to go cash out. And where the hell is Viv?" Honestly, I don't know why I bother asking anymore.

  "She called in. Date with Marcus," Harlow peeks out with a sniffle and weak smile in Vaughn's direction. Yeah, cause he's the one with your mucus streaks on his shoulder. "Just you tonight. Will you be alright?"

  "I don't know," I scoff. "She's just so darn helpful when she is here, I'm not sure I can manage without her." Probably not the best of ideas to admittedly call in for a date, versus sickness or death of a fictional family member…but I'm secretly glad to hear she's giving McCreamy a chance.