Iron Soldier

by Katie Ford

  Because the minute I saw her in the passenger seat, I was hard. Fuck, she was that beautiful and tempting. But instead of being scared at the massive length, the girl had actually squeezed hungrily, raising innocent eyes to mine before offering herself.

  And fuck, but I was on it. I lapped that sweet pussy until she cried out in ecstasy, moaning and creaming hard. God, I can taste her sweetness on my lips again, Marisa was so delectable.

  So yeah, that happened and I haven’t been with a client since. Not since I sampled the beautiful Marisa. The girl was too amazing to forget, and the truth is that not a day has gone by where I don’t dream of her. That angelic face and the way she moaned so beautifully in my arms.

  But I can’t stay in a suspended state forever. I have to pick myself up and re-join the land of the living. So somewhat reluctantly, I dialed Gold Medallion and asked for a booking once more.

  “Long time no hear,” joshed the agent Amanda. “What have you been up to?”

  “Nothing,” I rumbled evasively. “Why?”

  Frankly, it was none of Amanda’s business, and she knew it. So the woman just laughed.

  “No worries, take it easy Liam,” she said on the other line, keyboard clacking. “Your timing’s perfect, by the way. We have a request at the Grand over in Huntstown next Saturday. Can make it?”

  I was free that night, but I wanted more deets.

  “Tell me about the client,” was my drawl.

  “Hmmm,” purred Amanda. “Well, she’s young but legal. Evidently her friends are booking a surprise birthday for her? And you’re gonna be the surprise.”

  I growled a little. Surprises generally don’t turn out well in my line of business, but I didn’t want to wait any longer. It was time to get back in the saddle, so I agreed. If the client was young, it couldn’t be that bad.

  Besides, it was time to get over Marisa. Because after our encounter, I didn’t look her up, and not just because what we did was wrong. It absolutely was wrong. But what was I going to do? Was I going to storm over to her parents’ house and demand to see her again? Was I going to show up at the high school with some invented reason to pull Marisa out of class?

  So instead, I did nothing. We had an incredible interlude, and I let her go, savoring the taste of the beautiful female on my lips. Because I’ll never forget how responsive she was, how sweet and innocent. The brunette had mewled, those heavy thighs spread wide as I tasted her, and then emitted the most delicious juices onto my tongue. I loved every second of it, lapping that puss like it was the tastiest dessert.

  So yeah, even though I’ve been with Gold Medallion for two years now, I haven’t had any bookings ever since my encounter with the gorgeous girl. But here I was now, in a hotel room at the Grand, waiting for my next victim.

  And oh shit, but the minute the woman stepped inside, I knew it was her. I could smell Marisa from across the room. I could sense her presence, the soft, creamy curves begging for my caress. My cock hardened immediately, desperately hungry for the woman.

  But Marisa didn’t even know I was in the room at first, fumbling around in the dark and calling for her friends. Like I said, surprises are usually bad in my line of business, and this was no exception.

  Fortunately, the brunette took it well. The minute I snapped on the desk lamp, she grew still as a doe, her huge breasts heaving with shock. I could see her pebbled nipples from all the way across the room, those giant Double Ds waving my way. Had she put on more weight? God, the girl was even more gorgeous than before and my mouth watered.

  But I had to break the ice as she stood staring at me, those caramel pools wide.

  “Hey sweetheart,” I drawled. “Long time no see.”

  She stared for another moment before squeaking out a reply.

  “Officer Davies?” she asked. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

  I quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “Your friends didn’t tell you?”

  Her cheeks grew red.

  “Oh my god, do they know about us?” she gasped. “I never told anyone, I swear.”

  I threw my head back and laughed then, truly amused.

  “No sweetheart, they don’t know about us. They hired me, but have no idea who I am or that we’ve met before,” I said dryly.

  Now Marisa was really confused.

  “Hired you? How? I thought you were with the Midville PD?”

  “I am,” I confirmed. “Why, what did you think I was here for?”

  “You’re here in an official capacity?” she gasped. “But what did I do wrong? I’m sorry Officer Davies,” she mewled, dropping limply into a chair. “But none of this is making sense. I just don’t get what’s going on.”

  I took pity on the poor thing. After all, Marisa was white as a sheet and seriously afraid that she’d committed some crime. So I grinned again.

  “Well, no, I’m not here as a police officer. But I can be if you want.”

  She didn’t hear me at first.

  “I know I was late returning those library books, but …. Wait, what?” she asked, looking up quickly at me. Those caramel eyes shone with confusion even as a curl fell loose to rest against her cheek. “I’m sorry, you’re not here to arrest me?”

  At that, I threw my head back and laughed.

  “Naw sweetheart. This is strictly non-business. Or sort-of business, if you look at it a certain way. Because I moonlight on the side. A lot of guys on the force do, you know. As security guards and whatnot.”

  Her brow creased.

  “But why would you be in hotel room if you’re a security guard? Shouldn’t you be standing guard somewhere? And why would I need a security guard? I’m totally safe. Or am I?” she asked breathlessly, looking around the room, suddenly fearful.

  But I laughed again.

  “Naw sweetheart, you’re always safe with me. And I didn’t say I was moonlighting as a security guard. No, that’s too boring. I moonlight as a male escort, you know the kind of guy who shows a special woman a good time.”

  At that the brunette’s mouth fell open, her eyes wide with shock. Marisa was unable to speak for a full thirty seconds, just staring at me.

  “A m-male escort?” she finally managed on a trembling gasp. “What is that?”

  I grinned lazily.

  “I think you know, honey. Ever seen American Gigolo? I’m in the same line of work as Richard Gere, except that that’s a movie and I’m for real.”

  Her jaw snapped shut then.

  “A gigolo,” she said in a low voice. “I can’t believe it.”

  I leaned back, stretching like a giant lion after a nap.

  “Sometimes I can’t believe it either,” was my lazy drawl. “But believe it sweetheart, because I’m here now, ready and at your service.”

  Marisa still hadn’t moved although her breasts were heaving up and down, eyes wide as she stared at me from across the room.

  “So let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “Bobbie, Janine and Mary called you and hired you for a night. To service me.” Her voice fell off at the last sentence, those cheeks turning bright red.

  “Yep,” I confirmed, nodding casually. “They called my agency and put in a request, and here I am,” I said. “Easy-peasy, right? I’m ready to serve, and serving is my desire.”

  I couldn’t help but throw out the cheesy lines even though inside, my heart beat like a fucking drum. Because this was the chance of the lifetime. What were the odds that Marisa and I would meet again, and like this, no less? Suddenly, I thanked my lucky stars for Gold Medallion because if I hadn’t signed up with them, I would have never seen this girl again.

  And suddenly, I had to be with her. The past six months have been fucking hell, and I’ve been going to the gym non-stop in an effort to rid myself of the memories. But it was no use. Even as I ran myself to exhaustion on the treadmill and busted my ass lifting weights that would kill another man, the image of Marisa was still fresh on my mind. Her taste was constantly in my mouth, her creamy curve
s ruling my dreams each night.

  So yeah, escort service or no escort service, I had to have her. Usually, it’s the other way around. Generally, it’s the women who have to have us, but this time, the tables were turned. Marisa Martin was getting her money’s worth no matter what.

  So I leaned back on the small sofa again and spoke lazily. After all, I was a predator hunting his prey.

  “So what do you think about your surprise gift, sweetheart? It’s a surprise, I know, but I think you’ll like it.”

  She was going to more than like it. Marisa was going to erupt on my dick this time, that curvy body trembling and creaming like none other.

  But the girl didn’t answer me at first, merely staring my way as her cheeks flushed again, breasts trembling. But finally, she managed to mewl, “Well, I’m surprised.”

  I smiled again lazily.

  “Sure thing. And it’s strange that we’re meeting again this way, but it’s just the randomness of life. So what do you say, sweet thing? You want to come over and sit next to me?” I asked, patting the sofa at my side.

  Usually, I use a little more finesse. I talk to the woman, make her laugh, and get her comfortable before putting on the moves. But this brunette had been starring in my dreams for months now, and I was so fucking hungry that all my good manners fell to the wayside, leaving an animal in my place.

  Whoa, warned the voice in my head. What happened to Mr. Dreamy? She’s obviously young and experienced. Go a little slower otherwise the girl’s gonna run screaming.

  And the voice was right. Marisa was what, eighteen or nineteen? She’d been in high school the last time we met. Oh fuck. Please don’t let her be underage.

  The cop in me spoke then because even though I’m a complete asshole, I don’t do jail bait. It’s just not my thing. So I looked at her straight then, compelling those caramel eyes to tell me the truth.

  “How old are you?” I rumbled.

  She swallowed heavily.

  “Nineteen,” she breathed. “Why?”

  Oh thank god. The air I’d been holding escaped from my lungs in a great exhale, and I literally felt a little dizzy from relief. Marisa was legal.

  “Good,” I said smoothly. “Just making sure.”

  She colored again.

  “I’m definitely legal, and my friends must have provided some proof of my birthdate when they booked the date. It’s on my college ID, and I know roommate has borrowed my ID before. Just to get into the cafeteria and stuff,” she said hastily. “Nothing serious.”

  Again, I had a good girl on my hands, and needed to step carefully. Don’t frighten her, the voice in my head came again. Talk to her a little. Warm her up, otherwise you’re going to lose this one hands down.

  So I took another deep breath and forced myself to sit back like a man at ease, although there was nothing I wanted to do but to tear off her clothes.

  “So what brings you to the Grand?” I asked, gesturing to the hotel room. “Midville’s two hours away.”

  She nodded slightly.

  “I started at State last year, and moved up to live in the dorms. It’s been good,” she offered. “At least I’m free of my parents.”

  Go slow, the voice in my head warned. Marisa was still living at home up until six months ago.

  So I nodded approvingly.

  “Great, and how do you like school? What are you studying?”

  She smiled shyly then, squirming a little on the sofa.

  “Well, I like school,” she confessed, “but mostly because I’m a big bookworm. To someone like me, classes are a dream because what other people consider studying isn’t work for me. It’s reading about stuff that I love and immersing myself in a subject that fascinates me.”

  Wow, this girl really wasn’t your average co-ed. Most college girls these days are borderline sluts who get drunk every weekend, hooking up with a ton of frat boys. I know because I’ve been called to assist at altercations in the past, and it ain’t pretty.

  But Marisa seemed to be the opposite. The brunette actually liked to study, which was a first. Her honesty and intelligence were like a breath of fresh air.

  “So what are you learning?” I asked. “What’s got you so hooked?”

  She blushed again.

  “I know it seems really boring, but I’m studying botany and horticulture,” she admitted shyly. “I love greenery and have always had a green thumb, plus I learned to garden from my grandma when I was five. So I’m studying to become a horticulturist.”

  To be honest, I wasn’t even sure what that was. Was it someone who grew flowers for a living? Or someone who mowed lawns?

  “You mean, like a professional gardener?” I asked. “Do you need to go to college to do that?”

  She threw her head back and laughed then, exposing the lovely line of her throat.

  “It’s a little more than a gardener,” she teased. “Horticulture is the science and art of growing plants, but it also includes a lot more. It includes plant conservation, landscape restoration, soil management, landscape and garden design, and arboriculture too,” she teased. “Don’t even get me started on arboriculture, I could talk your ear off.”

  To be honest, I could listen to Marisa talk for hours if that’s what she wanted because her voice chimed like the sweetest bells in my ears. But I was genuinely impressed with her passion for horticulture because there aren’t many kids these days who have direction, much less a path in life.

  “So what are you going to do full-time?” I asked. “I’m sorry honey, if this is too many questions. I’m just a plain old cop, and I’ve never wanted to be anything other than a cop. So your line of business is totally new to me.”

  She sat forwards then, a soft smile on her lips.

  “No, it’s no problem,” she demurred. “I’m aiming for a job at the Botanical Garden after graduation. They have a number of positions for horticulturists, and it’d be my dream to work in a greenhouse day in and day out. Imagine it. Cultivating roses, orchids and bonsai, but also pitcher plants, cacti, and all sorts of weird species. It’ll be fun,” she said with a smile.

  And shit, but I was so impressed with the brunette because Marisa was much more than some hook-up I’d met on the street. This was someone who already had her sights set on a potential job even though it was probably three or four years out. If I had to guess, she’d already started making all the right contacts and expressing interest in volunteer work at the Botanical Garden.

  So suddenly, I realized that this wasn’t going to be a regular job. This wasn’t going to be wham, bam, thank you ma’am. I wasn’t going to be able to walk away from this room scot-free, even if I’d been dreaming about her for months now. Instead, I was the one who was ready to worship at Marisa’s feet, doing whatever she asked.

  But the thing is that the brunette wanted to know about me too.

  “Officer Davies,” she said softly. “Is it okay if I call you that? Or should I call you something else?”

  “Call me Liam,” I rumbled. “I think we’re ready for that.”

  She blushed.

  “I have to ask,” she said shyly. “But why are you working as a male escort? I mean, you’re gorgeous,” she said, cheeks blushing hot again, “but surely, you have some kind of ulterior motivation? Being a police officer can’t be that bad.”

  I nodded, but the thing is that I didn’t have an answer prepared because most of my other clients don’t know that I’m a police officer. I usually just toss them some made-up story about how I used to be a barista before trying out for Gold Medallion. Honestly, the women aren’t too interested most of the time.

  But Marisa was different. She knew me from before, first of all. But also, the brunette was genuinely interested, so I shifted a little on the sofa, uncomfortable for the first time in years.

  “Yeah well,” I grunted. “Police work doesn’t pay so well, so I do this to make a little extra on the side.”

  Oh shit. I’d just said the first unobjectionable thing
that came to mind because everyone knows that working as a small-town cop is hardly a high-paying job. What was my salary again? Forty thousand a year? Fifty thousand a year?

  Because the truth is, the money doesn’t mean anything to me. Sure, I went to the Academy and graduated with honors, but I only went because that’s what all the men in my family do. We all serve a couple years as a line cop, walking the beat and getting experience.

  But after a couple years, the males in my family inevitably leave the force to join our family company. Yep, you heard right. The Davies own a paper packaging company, and it’s a closely-held outfit. It doesn’t sound glamorous, and the work isn’t glamorous. But we have major multinational firms as clients, and business has exploded in the last ten years or so. Think of all the packages you get in the mail these days from every company under the sun: Amazon, Fresh Direct, Zappos, and all the big players. They use our cardboard boxes and packaging solutions, so as you can imagine, we’re talking big money here. In fact, ecommerce has turned the Davies into billionaires. Yep, that’s right, my family has nine zeroes to its name, our bank accounts bulging. Call us the Paper Kings.

  But the thing is, I haven’t been ready to leave the force. Maybe I’m a black sheep, but I kind of like it. Sure, it’s boring. Sure, sometimes all I did was talk to a bunch of teenage hooligans about the dangers of drunk driving. But at the same time, the work was meaningful even if there wasn’t that much of it. Sometimes I felt that the twenty minute conversation I had with an adolescent about life, or lending help to a homeless guy who had no one else, was more meaningful than a year of work I’d put in at Davies Paper.

  So I’ve stayed at the Midville PD even though my family’s begging me to quit. They say they need the help at Davies Paper, and frankly, there’s no one else. Cousin Ike is incompetent according to my dad, and Frances and John, while responsible and hard-working, just can’t get along. They need me, big brother, to step in and take the reins.