Second Go-Round

by Lynn Burke

  I considered the twinge in my chest and gripped my coffee mug tighter while heading to the living room. “I’m not fool enough to even consider it.”

  “Think he likes you back?” she asked.

  The memory of the emotion in his dark eyes as he came after the slow torture flitted through my brain and filled me with the same wariness as it had the night before. “Yeah. I do.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “I don’t do relationships, Jess,” I said, sitting on my couch. “You know that.”

  “Maybe you ought to give it another try.”

  “And break another heart?” I grabbed the clicker and turned on the TV. “I’ll keep to the casual fuck when I need some action and my single, quiet life, thank you very much.”

  “Going to the game this afternoon?” Jess asked, knowing my stubbornness all too well.

  I chuckled. “Season tickets, baby.”

  Jarod

  I slept like shit all night. All I could think about was Christine—her sweet curves, green, smiling eyes, and love of sports and beer. I’d never met a more perfect woman. Her panties I’d ripped off her before fucking her ass hung on the lamp beside my bed, every trace of her scent sniffed from the satin scrap. She was like the purest drug and had hit my blood with a rush beyond anything I’d felt before.

  Fuck me and my stance on no relationships. I wanted more. Her confidence, outspokenness. Lush mouth and big tits, those plump ass cheeks that jiggled every time I’d slammed into her…

  I adjusted myself through my jeans and climbed out of my car, intent on forgetting about Christine and focusing on the day’s game. As with every Sunday, I crashed at my best friend’s house to watch the GOAT and Pats crush every opponent.

  Well, most, anyway.

  “Almost called you last night,” I said, slumping onto Micah’s leather sectional, legs stretching out and crossing on the ottoman.

  “For?” Micah handed me a home brew.

  “Client has an exhibitionist fantasy.”

  “Well, shit. She should have put that on the form I had Dana send over.”

  “Sup, Cooney?” I nodded toward another of our buddies who strolled into Micah’s den. Red hair slicked back into a man bun and tattoo sleeves covering both arms, he was Elite’s most sought after dominant who had mastered all forms of bondage. Towered over my 6’2” height like a motherfucker.

  “How was your date last night?” he asked in his low, bass voice while sitting on the other end of the couch.

  “Hot as fuck.” Scary as fuck. “Christine is the type of woman I would give up my second job for.”

  “No fucking way, Zimmerman,” Micah shot my way, kicking back in his favorite, threadbare chair. “Bad enough Sullivan bailed on me after meeting Jess. Still haven’t replaced the other half of your tall, dark, and handsome duo.”

  Reid and I had often filled brother fantasies since we looked so much alike. While Micah had often joined up with me since then to fulfill client threesome wishes, we were polar opposites. Like Cooney, he pulled his long hair back in a man bun, but he was a golden boy with blond curls and close-clipped beard.

  “Just said she was that type.” I grumbled. “Didn’t say I had any plans of bailing on you.”

  Cooney and Micah shared a look.

  “What?” I asked, bottle halfway to my lips, my gaze jumping between the two.

  “You’re fucked, that’s what,” Cooney said with a chuckle.

  “Don’t even fucking say that.” Micah scowled at him. “And…”—he turned his attention on me—“don’t you even fucking think that.”

  I shook my head and tried to focus on the coin toss happening on TV. “I’m not thinking that.” Liar. I chugged my beer.

  Cooney snorted. “Fucked.”

  I had left Christine’s a few minutes after fucking her over the island in her kitchen. Exactly like the first time against her front door, she walked away with a sway to her ass as though unfazed by the fact my cock had been buried deep inside of it a minute earlier.

  Fucking unmoved. Impersonal just like she’d wanted—like I’d silently promised.

  And fuck the goddamn hammer that had slammed me in the chest again as our gazes met across the kitchen when she thanked me for the evening and told me to leave.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes, missing the kickoff.

  “That’s right, Edelman,” Cooney hollered. “Stiff arm that fucker.”

  “Goddamn, what a return,” Micah said, lifting my head off the couch.

  “Didn’t you have a new client Thursday,” I asked Micah, desperate to get my mind off her.

  “Got to wield my favorite cane.”

  “She like it?” I asked.

  “Fucking dirty little cunt couldn’t get enough.” Micah adjusted himself. “She squirted four times before I finally took her virgin ass. She wanted it deep and hard—and that’s exactly what I gave her. All at once.”

  My own virgin hole clenched. The size of Micah’s cock was no private matter. He’d held no qualms about his package being on display in the locker room after practice and games back in our high school days.

  “Goddamn.” Cooney glanced across the den. “She’s not going to file a complaint, is she?”

  “Bitch chose her own safeword. Lollipops.” Micah laughed and got up to grab a couple more beers from behind the bar. “Best part? Right before I took the cane to her ass, she asked if her girlfriend from next door could watch.”

  “Goddamn,” Cooney said again sinking back into the couch. “She get in on the action, too?”

  “Nope. Doesn’t like to be touched.”

  “Why the fuck not?” I asked as Brady threw a completion for a first down.

  “You know I don’t get into the personal shit. Just there to fuck and satisfy.”

  I chuckled, already knowing the answer to my next question. “What if the client wanted to snuggle and chat about her day?”

  Micah handed me a cold beer and fell back into his chair. “Fuck that shit.”

  Cooney and I grinned at each other. “Pretty sure our employee contracts ensure satisfaction.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not an employee, am I?”

  “What about you, Cooney?” I asked, not bothering to argue with the boss. “Hot date this weekend?”

  “Nope. And last weekend I was at the BC when the bomb threat came in.”

  “No shit.”

  “Shit. Lights flicked on full force, music cut out, and David told us all to get the fuck out. Too bad, too, cuz Lacey was humping that pole like it was her last day on earth.”

  Micah groaned and grabbed his cock. “Fucking Lacey.”

  Cooney agreed with a groan of his own.

  I laughed under my breath. Both had it bad for the BC’s favorite pixie-haired minx. We, along with Reid, had all gone to high school together, and she’d gone out with and fucked all four of us within a couple of weeks of each other. Micah and Cooney had her a second time—at the same time.

  She was the one who started Micah’s addiction to threesomes and opened his mind up to the idea of fucking for money. A dozen or so years later, Micah finally started up the professional escort business that had helped both Cooney and I finish paying for college.

  Fucker had more money than both Cooney and I would make in our lifetimes with our BA’s. At least I’d paid off my student loans.

  “Fuck!” Micah sat forward on his chair as Brady scrambled from the ten yard line.

  “Go!” Cooney shouted at the same time I leapt to my feet.

  All three of us hollered as he dove, arms and ball outstretched toward the in-zone. The ref’s arms went up, and our voices raised toward the ceiling along with our beers.

  The camera went to the stands to catch a few high-fives and waving arms. An up-close shot of a green-eyed, sexy-as-hell woman with the Pats logo painted on her cheek and beer in her raised hand caught my breath and I slumped back onto the couch.

  “She’s fucking hot
,” Cooney said, still standing.

  Micah lifted his beer in toast to the flat-screen as he sat back down. “I’d fuck her for free.”

  My stomach knotted. “That’s her.”

  “Her who?” Micah asked, his gaze plastered to the TV as he sat.

  The camera zoomed away, and I swallowed. “Christine. My date from last night.”

  “That was her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “A Pat’s fan? Well, shit.” Micah snorted. “No wonder you’re lovestruck.”

  “I’m not lovestruck, fuck-wad.”

  “Keep telling yourself that,” Cooney said with a laugh.

  I planned to do as he suggested, but I had a feeling I’d be turning down more clients than accepting in the future.

  ****

  Fucking phone rang at nine in the morning, breaking off my dream about Christine’s soaked cunt just as I leaned in for a taste.

  I didn’t recognize the number, but was pissed off enough to answer anyway. “This better be fucking good,” I growled and lay back again, grabbing my hard-on through my boxers.

  “Is this Jarod?”

  Her sweet voice didn’t fool me any. “Unless you’re selling nipple clamps and hemp rope, you can fu—”

  “This isn’t a sales call.” The voice laughed. “This is Jessica Lindy. Reid’s fiancé.”

  “Oh, shit.” I sat up and released my cock to scrub a hand through my hair. “Sorry.”

  She laughed again.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “Yes. I just wanted to chat for a few minutes if you have time?”

  “Sure.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and leaned forward even though my cock still strained for attention. “What’s up?”

  “Christine.”

  A queer twist yanked on my insides. Two weeks had passed, and she still haunted both my nighttime fantasies and daydreams. “What about her?”

  “Her birthday is Wednesday, and I was wondering if I could talk you into a second go-round.”

  I huffed a sarcastic laugh although my cock liked the idea. “She kicked me out after our first one.”

  “Because you scare her.”

  My heartbeat slowed. “What?”

  “She likes her freedom. Likes the single life, and something about you threatened that.”

  No fucking way. I shook my head although a smile moved my lips. “I don’t do relationships.”

  “Neither does she—or so she says. Personally, I think you’re both full of shit and are perfect for each other.”

  “No offense, but you don’t even know me.”

  “No, but Reid does.”

  I scratched the stubble along my jaw. “Thought my ears were ringing a lot lately.”

  Jessica laughed again. “They should have been. Look,”—her voice turned serious—“Christine is a great catch. She just hasn’t found the right man yet.”

  “And you think I’m that man?”

  “Let’s just say that I know Christine, and if she says you’re scary as hell, dangerous with a capital D, then she’s thoroughly intrigued.”

  “Could just be that our night was something out of the norm. I’m the unattainable paid escort. That’d intrigue half of the female population.”

  “Reid was also ‘unattainable’ at one time.”

  She had me there.

  “If you need more proof,” Jess continued, “she hasn’t gone out with anyone in the last two weeks, and she’s not the type to sit at home on weekends.”

  “Huh.”

  “So, are you as interested as she told me your eyes claimed, or was that just part of the job of satisfying a woman?”

  “Women talk too much,” I grumbled.

  “Always. So, are you?”

  “Christine really said that?” I asked, staring at my closed blinds and the line of sunlight peeking through either side.

  “She said you gave her that look, and damn it all to hell, her heart stopped then flooded with a feeling she’s never felt before.”

  “Her words exact?” I asked, my damn smile stretching even though I didn’t want it to.

  “Exact.”

  “Shit.”

  “So will you do it?”

  “I’ll have to charge you.”

  Jessica huffed. “Fine, but on the day you move in together, I want a refund.”

  “Never gunna happen,” I said, remembering Christine’s stubbornness.

  “She also told me that she confessed her number one fantasy to you.”

  “She’s got an exhibitionist streak.”

  “If I was a nicer friend, I’d offer Reid’s eyes for the evening, but that man is all mine.”

  I chuckled. “He wouldn’t agree to it anyway. He is all yours.”

  “Think you can find a willing participant to sit in a dark corner and watch the two of you?”

  “On a Wednesday night? Absolutely.”

  “Perfect. So, do you take credit cards?”

  I pushed up off the bed and headed for the bathroom. “Tell you what … I’ll do this one on my own time because I’d love a second go-round with that woman. But if I end up with a broken heart, you pay me double.”

  “Deal,” she answered without hesitation.

  “You’re convinced she won’t kick me out of heaven, aren’t you?”

  “She swallowed the hook along with whatever you baited her with. All you need to do is reel her in.”

  With a chuckle, I turned the shower on. “Enjoy fishing, do you?”

  “No, but the lure fits.”

  I outright laughed. A few seconds later, I hung up the phone and stepped into the shower, grinning like a fool even though wariness tingled my spine.

  Christine

  Birthdays sucked ass. The big 3-0 had struck, and I refused to celebrate aging. I’d already plucked two gray hairs from above my left ear, and when I frowned, the line indented the once smooth skin between my eyebrows. I even had a fucking age spot on my left temple. At thirty!

  “Fucking hell,” I grumbled to myself and peered into the fogged mirror above my bathroom sink. Using my fingertips, I pulled back and tightened the skin of my cheeks. My mom had a face-lift a few years earlier—it’d done wonders in removing a few years’ worth of sag and lines. I turned my head side to side. A face-lift would probably change the appearance of my eyes, though. They’d end up all squinty, and with my luck, everyone and their mother would know I’d had work done.

  Expelling a huff of air, I grabbed my empty wineglass off the tub’s side where I’d spent the last half hour soaking and sipping some merlot. Time for a refill and lounge on the couch. The towel wrapped around my body and tucked between my breasts sagged as I poured, gaze flitting to the island.

  “Fucking hell,” I muttered again, lifting my glass. I hadn’t gone out in over two weeks. Had zero desire to meet anyone. I swallowed down two big gulps. Didn’t want to fuck anyone but Jarod. “The fuck is wrong with you?” Still grumbling, I topped off my wine.

  My doorbell rang.

  Growling, I strode toward the front door and peephole that allowed me some privacy.

  The limo driver from E.E. stood in the hallway, black hair slicked back in a ponytail.

  “Holy…” I cleared my throat as a thrill shot through me. Then again, I told myself, perhaps the dude was a perv and wanted a piece of what Jarod had gotten.

  Chain still attached, I turned the knob and peeked out through the three-inch crack, my towel-wrapped body hidden behind the door. I opened my mouth to ask him what he wanted, but he held up a card, smirking.

  Happy Birthday – Jess

  My gaze jerked back up to his face and I licked my lips as I drummed up his name from my buzzing brain. “Who do you have the pleasure of driving around this evening, Ricky?”

  “Just you, Miss Gemberling, but Mr. Zimmerman is the escort hired for this evening.”

  I swallowed against the dryness in my throat. “I don’t think that’s a good—”

  “I wa
s told to mention a certain fantasy if you declined.”

  Oh, holy fuck. I wanted to kill Jess. I also wanted to kiss her.

  “I’m to drive you downtown for a clandestine meeting—if you wish to join them.”

  Them. Heat flushed through me from head to toe, and my underarms prickled. “I-I’ll be down in five.”

  Ricky all-out smiled. “Take your time, Ms. Gemberling. We are at your disposal until eight tomorrow morning.”

  Oh. My. God. I shut the door and guzzled my glass of wine, gaze aimed but unfocused on the peephole.

  A tremor shuddered down through me, and I forced my feet to move. My number one fantasy was about to come to life.

  “Holy shit,” I whispered while my shaking hands riffled through the hanging clothes in my closet. Teeth holding onto the inside of my lower lip, I yanked out a cold shoulder shift in blue and a clinging, silvery mini. Elegant or slutty?

  I let out a snort of huffed laughter and hung the shift back up.

  Freshly shaved and lathered up, thank God. I dropped the towel and stepped into the mini, shimmying it up over my hips. Snugger than the last time I’d worn it a couple of months earlier, I thought with a frown. PMS bloat and clingy material never paired well together.

  “Perfect fucking time for a fantasy,” I huffed and yanked the dress off. “Blue shift it is.”

  The satiny material fell mid-thigh, and I turned in front of my full-length mirror. Panties or no panties, I wondered, twisting and liking how the dress hid my bloat.

  Jarod would probably just rip them off. I hoped he would … and that the stranger in the room with us would enjoy seeing it.

  Face hot and pussy priming at the thought, I headed into the bathroom for a quick face-fix. While a full barn painting with smoky eyes would better fit an evening out, I opted for a few licks of mascara, blush, and pale lip gloss, same as I’d gone for on our first date. I unclasped the clip from my hair and shook my head, running my fingers through the thick waves left over from work that day.

  My hair curled over my shoulders, my face appeared virginal with its barely there makeup, but the spark in my eyes betrayed the arousal flooding through me.

  I grabbed a small purse, threw in a few necessities, and typed a quick text to Jess.

  C: I can’t even right now…

  Her reply zipped through before I made it to my front door.