by Liv Bennett
Lies have the power to destroy a person in a matter of minutes. And I’m the best example of that. Even after hearing the truth from Taylor, my subconscious chose to believe the lie my cousin had told me, and I can’t, for the love of God, wipe away the feeling of guilt of murdering someone who gave life to me.
From that day on, I became conscious of liars. The bad thing is that they’re everywhere. Even the people who’re paid to be honest, such as doctors, can lie easily. And, let me not get started with lawyers. But, the good thing is I’ve become an expert in spotting liars. A brief sign of distress, gulping, a wrong twitch of an eyelid, or as in Mr. Ice’s case, irises dilating suddenly give them away if you pay close attention. He chose the wrong person to lie to because I could be granted a PhD in reading those signs if such a lie-detection department existed.
Fuck Mr. Ice and all the liars. They can spend the entire eternity in Hell for all I care.
I climb into the company car and ask the private driver I’m assigned by Hawkins Media Group to drive me back home. I shower as the first thing to get rid of the feeling of dirt after coming in close contact with filthy people and then settle in front of the TV to play a round of Street Fighter on my Xbox. It helps to be able to kick some asses, even in cyberspace.
When I notice the sun is going down, I call to order pizza for my dinner. I promised to have dinner with Taylor and Adam, but I guess I’ll skip it for today. When the bell rings ten minutes after the phone call, I grab my purse and hurry to get the door.
I nearly drop the purse in my hand when I see Zane and not the pizza delivery guy at my doorway.
“May I come in?” he asks. His face has no trace of the allergic reactions he had a few hours ago. Even though I’m glad to see in person that he’s all right, I’m not sure about inviting him in. “Please, I want to talk to you,” he insists.
“What do you want to talk about?” I ask, but the real question I want him to answer is why he wanted to be with me.
“About the afternoon. I came here to apologize. I should have asked you instead of surprising you that way.”
He had even kept the lights off to hide his identity from me. I survey his face intently to evaluate his sincerity, but he seems genuine enough even to my expert eyes. I want to let him in and talk his heart out, but my home is in no shape to accept a guest, much less one of the bosses of the company I work for. Besides, I’m fairly sure my sweatpants have a hole in the crotch.
“Give me a minute,” I say and close the door in his face before running with the speed of light to my bedroom. After changing into jeans, I hurry to the living room to collect all the dirty clothes I failed to throw into the laundry basket. As soon as dirty plates find their place in the overly filled sink, I stride back to get the door, hoping Zane hasn’t decided to leave.
“Come on in,” I open the door wide to let him in, trying to breathe as silently as possible.
His eyes size me up and down and a smile appears on his lips, lighting up his face with a lustful expression. I have to bite my lip to hush away the images of those lips sucking the lips of my sex only a few hours ago, and I must admit, the power of the suction of his mouth could compete with Dyson vacuum cleaners.
“I don’t have much time.” I cross my arms as a way to put a distance between us and hopefully to hide my awakening nipples beneath my t-shirt, cursing myself for not remembering to put on a bra.
“Can I get a glass of water? I drove here right after I woke up from the coma.”
“Oh, sure.” My living room might look presentable, but I’m a horrible host. I grab the only clean glass I can find in the kitchen and come back to Zane with ice-cold water. “Here.”
“Thanks.” He gulps down the entire glass of water, while his eyes are fixed on my chest. If he’s thinking I can’t see where they’re looking through the glass, then he’s an idiot. But I sense he’s aware that I know exactly where he’s staring and even that it’s turning me on.
I take a step back and move my eyes around the room to break the spell he’s pulling me into, while he drinks the last sip of the water.
“I wasn’t sure it’d be you.” He places the glass on the coffee table, his dark-brown hair falling across his forehead as he leans down. “I was going through the list of available clients at the PE database when I noticed a new entry with the alias Seven and thought it might be you.” He runs both his hands through his hair to push them back, and I gasp at the sexy way his fingers capture the thick strands.
“I had no idea you were one of the escorts,” I mumble although it’s not really relevant to his explanation.
He smiles and licks his lips, moistening them, and I take another step back, uncomfortably aware of the danger his lips might cause me. “Only a very few wealthy men aren’t a registered escort there.”
“Really?”
He nods and moves cautiously toward me. “I wanted to have you from the first minute I saw you leaving my father’s office.”
“Why? Because you knew I’d be his girlfriend and then you couldn’t have me?”
“No, not that. I’d had no idea he had that intention until he told me when you left his office.”
“Then, why?” I’m not a particularly hot girl. Even Mr. Ice confirmed that fact by rating my looks with four out of ten.
“Why do I have the hots for you? I have no idea, but every time I see you sway your round ass, I can’t help but wonder how you’d squirm if I bent you down on a desk and fucked you from behind.”
A surge of heat flushes from my core, spreading over to the surface of my weakening body, and I gulp down hard, fearing I’ll start trembling. The mere fact that he’d been only minutes away from finding out the truth about the way I squirm, before the coconut allergy hit him, doesn’t help in the least with the sudden response of my body to his words.
“I say let’s find out. Let me make you squirm and scream with my cock stuffing your pussy. I was so close to it today. After tasting your pussy, there’s no going back to normal for me. Let me, please let me in.”
“Enough.” I lift my hand, my palm toward his face. “I’m not going to let you do anything to me.”
As if I just give him my thumbs up to do whatever he wants with me, rather than declining him, he leaps toward me to close the distance between us, cups my buttocks with his large hands, and attacks my lips.
Although my brain flashes me a ‘Stop him right now’ sign in neon letters, my body is too entangled in his to be able to react to his vicious assault. His hands slip through the waistband of my jeans and clamp on my bare ass cheeks beneath my underwear, pulling my hips against his hard-on. His grip is so strong, I’m lifted off my feet.
Oh, god. I feel my sex dampen almost instantly at the feeling of his penis bulging through his slacks and pushing against my body. I try to push him away, without success, and barely utter the words, “I’m not allowed to have sex with anyone,” into his mouth between his ferocious kisses.
He lets my lips go, although my body is still wrapped tightly with his arms. “Yes, you are. You hired me for the entire evening. This is still part of the Pleasure Extraordinaire service.”
Pleasure extraordinaire, indeed. I feel my vaginal walls throbbing inside me, yearning to be stuffed as Zane has promised. I evaluate his words for a brief second before he launches his mouth back onto mine and thrusts his tongue between my lips, while his hands ruthlessly rub my butt cheeks. Only a little stronger and my flesh between his fingers will hurt, but he doesn’t cross that border.
An unexpected slip of a finger through my slit does it for me, and I stop fighting him and wrap my arms around his neck to pull him in for a harder kiss. He groans into my mouth while continuing to grind his hips against mine. I wish his cock had the power to rip through clothes, because I want it in me with a pulsating, white-hot desire.
I rush my hands down and fumble with the buttons of my jeans, while he mirrors my move with his own slacks, and in a matter of seconds, our pants are pushed down, a
lthough we’re still fully clothed from above the waist. I’m so horny for him, I don’t want to waste any seconds taking off my t-shirt before taking his manhood in me, and I’m guessing his reason to keep my t-shirt on is the same as mine.
He flips me so my bare buttocks are touching against his legs and pushes me against the arm of the couch, bending me down on it as he promised. “I’m clean, I swear,” are his last words before he slides his cock up and down my pussy lips and pierces it into me.
I scream with the fullness of it, trying to stretch so I can take all its thickness. Noticing my discomfort, he pulls back and slides back in, this time slowly. I thrust my hips back, meeting him half way, yearning to be filled despite the slight discomfort. His large hands grip my hips on either side of my body to keep me in place while he pounds into me. His fingers are long enough to reach down and touch my clit, but he doesn’t do anything beyond fucking my pussy with loud plunges.
I’m gasping and panting with each thrust, so close to an overwhelming climax. “Harder,” I cry as if his thrusts aren’t intense enough to be defined as violent. He responds to my plea with harder and faster moves, shaking me to the core, making me yell incoherent words mixed with curses while a stormy climax sweeps over the little reason that’s left in my mind.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pants and pulls out of me. I use the tiny drop of energy left in me to turn my head and watch him as he jerks his cock to his own climax and flushes his hot liquid onto my ass. As if our fucking wasn’t mind-blowing enough to end up in Guinness’ Record book for hotness, I tremble with the sexiness of the scene, him rubbing his cock above my ass while his seeds flow across my skin.
“You have the tightest pussy I’ve ever fucked,” he says when his breathing becomes somewhat regular. “I saw on your profile you’re on the pill.”
“Yeah, I am.” I nod and straighten up.
“You should still go wash yourself before my boys reach down to your pussy.”
His boys have no way to land inside me, but I go to bathroom to wash up anyway. When I come back, wrapped up in a towel, I find Zane sitting on the couch, staring at a painting on the wall.
He gets to his feet and approaches me when he sees me. “I’m sorry for my surprise visit. I understand if you don’t want to use my services over at PE anymore.”
“I’m equally guilty, I guess, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to have anything going on while I’m working for your father, even though there’s no breach of the contract.”
He reaches for my hand and pulls it up to his lips. “Nobody needs to know anything about it. As long as you’re Seven and I’m Big Boy, we can do anything we want inside PE,” he says and kisses me.
I try to hold the towel intact, pressing my arms against it, while trying not to melt against his kiss. It’s hard to say no to him, especially after such a mind-blowing orgasm. My first time going condom-less with a man, and thank god, I’m on the pill. “I’ll think about it.”
“Okay. I’ll see you around.” He leans in and lets his lips brush mine, gently, almost lovingly, and I remember my promise to myself to not let my heart beat for any of the PE escorts. I pull away before he can slide his tongue into my mouth and look toward the door pointedly. A mischievous smile appears on his lips, but he doesn’t say a word and just leaves my apartment.
The pizza delivery guy arrives only a minute after Zane’s departure, leaving me in awe about the perfect timeliness of Zane’s visit. The last thing I have in mind is eating, though. Zane might claim to want to see me again, but a gnawing whisper inside me tells me I won’t be anything but a one-time fling, or one of the dozens of women he keeps on the side.
It bothers me that men like Zane don’t come without other women competing for him. I might consider getting into a bloody fight with those women if I was sure Zane was worthy of my effort. But I’m neither positive of his sincerity, nor confident if I really want him. Only him, that is, because I can’t help but wish to spend more time with Mr. Ice too, and have a chance to get to know him, despite my disappointment over his lie.
A promiscuous man on one hand and a liar on the other. The kind of men my heart yearns to have couldn’t have been worse, and I have a feeling the days ahead of me will include more disappointment and heartache.
THE END
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Thank you for reading Pleasure Extraordinaire #1.
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Pleasure Extraordinaire 2 is available to buy at most of the major online retailers.
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An excerpt from The Pursuit of Passion, Taylor & Adam’s love story, is next…
Excerpt from The Pursuit of Passion (Taylor and Adam’s love story)
Prologue – Taylor
The day Jack died was the day I came close to death myself. The last seconds before that merciless truck crashed into the back of our car replayed in my mind so many times, I am sure it is engraved into my synapses and won’t be erased, even if I suffer from a memory loss in the future.
We were driving on the interstate between San Diego and L.A. late at night. At exactly eleven thirty seven, just before midnight, Adele’s “Someone like you,” began playing on the radio. Jack hated romance pop as much as he hated snakes. So, he leaned down to change the radio station, in spite of my pleas for him to give it a try for once, and settled on “Hit the road, Jack” by Ray Charles. He even made a little joke about how that evil song was written for him, before slamming on the brakes and rear-ending the car that had suddenly pulled out in front of us.
Between the airbag blowing up on my face and the seat belt cutting into my chest, I heard Jack yelling, “The brakes aren’t working,” over and over like a broken record. As I tried to pull my face away from the airbag that was drowning me, blinding lights blocked all my senses, and within a split second, the car shook with another hit. The last thing I saw before I passed out was the roof smashed down onto the driver’s seat.
All my hopes died with Jack, along with the meaning of my life. I had nothing to look forward to and nothing to fear from. It was as if my taste buds for life’s offers died altogether. Winning the jackpot or losing a limb would elicit the same effect on me; that is, no effect at all. When I saw people laughing or hugging each other, I turned away as though I’d accidentally clicked on the news channel in Chinese. I stopped understanding feelings. I stopped feeling sensation of any sort. Jack’s death emptied my emotional storage, if such a thing existed, and numbed me to the core.
And, ironically enough, the next time I looked death in the eye, it helped to set me free from my emotional dry land, and since then, a new hope has begun limping in.
That’s probably one thing I should thank my attacker for.
Taylor
“You’ve got multiple cysts on both of your ovaries, and your blood test shows hormonal imbalance. You might experience permanent infertility issues, if we don’t treat them now.”
Dr. Fowler’s words keep echoing in my ears like a catchy song you can’t get out of your head. There is a long list of issues I should take preventive steps against, cancer and osteoporosis being the top, but I don’t. So, why should I bother about infertility issues when my husband, the love of my life, is dead, and I have no plans whatsoever about having another man in my heart—or in my bed, for that matter?
Only, I can’t help but bother.
I’ve always wanted to have children of my own. If Jack and I’d had a child, perhaps I wouldn’t be so numb inside. And, I’d have a piece of him with me.
I hand the valet the key of my Hyundai, vaguely aware of the stretched Bentley and Aston Martin lined up behind, and stride toward the hotel door. The doorman greets me and opens the door for me. I nod and walk toward the majestic hallway of Peninsula at Beverly Hills.
&nb
sp; My toes curl inside my five-inch-high heels as I step on the shiny marble floor, taking extra care not to slip. I stop to take in the simple but tastily decorated cream and brown anteroom, letting the one and only memory of me enjoying this luxurious hotel, a popular destination for the Hollywood’s rich and famous, flash through my mind.
Jack proposed to me here in one of its prominent, private villas almost four years ago. He’d planned everything perfectly; a delicious dinner with a violinist playing only for us, a grape-sized diamond ring that had ‘You and me, forever’ engraved on the inside, and a fascinating view of Beverly Hills. But, I couldn’t give a damn shit about all the details. I had the most caring, handsome, and loving man in the world proposing to me. I’d have melted into a puddle of happy tears, even if he’d given me a rubber band as a ring… at McDonald’s.
A young girl with blonde hair carefully arranged in a bun on top of her head, wearing a green skirt suit, comes around the reception desk, taking me away from the sweet memories.
“Mrs. Edelman, welcome to the Peninsula at Beverly Hills.”
I smile at the way she’s addressed me, rather using my real last name, Doheny. My assistant instructed her well, I think to myself. Although three years have passed since Jack’s death, I refuse to change my marital status and still keep Jack’s last name.
She continues with a well-practiced tone, “We’re very pleased you chose our hotel for your company’s fifteenth anniversary celebrations. Everyone else has arrived and is waiting for you in the Magnolia Suit. I’m here to accompany you to the suit.”