There were a few nice things Robert loved, like vacations and great wine, but for the most part he couldn't care less about money. At least when he had it. But Kim took her half in the divorce, even though she was a lying cheating fucking bitch, and businesses had been tanking for the last two years. Even that might have been fine, if Robert wasn’t bleeding from every orifice trying to keep his love affair with an escort alive. He had no way of knowing, but Robert wouldn't have been surprised in the least if Sophia had made more in the last year than he had. She would have been worth it, too.
Robert was spending way too much on Sophia, but if he went broke before he was finished, then praise glory, it was meant to be. Minutes spent with her were the best medicine Robert could have ever hoped to have. And he’d spent two years’ worth of minutes one “date” and payment at a time.
Sophia seemed to always know exactly what he needed, even if it was what the opposite of what he thought he needed. She stayed one step ahead, and was right 100% of the time. And that was worth paying for, far more than the sex.
Last time, Robert thought he wanted soft conversation and slow sex. And that’s what he had told Sophia when he placed his order, which was why she showed up in a soft cotton blouse and matching panties. She had been in the apartment less than five minutes when she shook her head and started laughing, “Sorry, Robbie, but you were off tonight. You don’t want to fiddle, you want to fuck.”
And while Robert might have argued the point if he didn’t know Sophia, she’d never been wrong before, so he allowed the sudden swell in his pants to follow her lead. She proceeded to give him the hardest, roughest, most animal fuck he’d had in months, the kind she had bled from him regularly back when his divorce with Kim was fresh.
It was fast and furious and unforgettable; exactly the sort of thing that made Robert think he had caught the creme de la cream catchers, but it was just the beginning of the evening. As he reminded himself whenever his account balance was thinning to bald – Sophia knew what he wanted, was sure of what he needed, and always gave it to him fully, with never a flinch.
Which was why Robert would always find a way to take care of Sophia.
After she fucked him hard enough to put him in a wheelchair for the weekend, Sophia lay beside him, listening to him speak of nothing important, not watching the clock, as she traced his skin with her nails, slowly stoking his desire for seconds, now ready for the slow sex to follow the soft conversation he’d ordered.
“You’ve already been here too long,” he said.
“I have different rules for my favorite client,” Sophia smiled.
More than anything she’d ever said, that was the phrase that kept playing over and over in Robert’s mind since he’d first heard it two weeks before. It had both intrigued and bothered him enough to cancel their last appointment, the third time he’d ever done so, and the first that wasn’t a conflict with Kim.
Robert was thrilled to be her favorite, in a giddy schoolboy sort of way. If it was even the truth. But the reminder that he was a client was a slap to the side of his ear, not that he could ever truly ignore the bills on the nightstand. Besides, she could be telling him what she thought he wanted to hear. That was part of her job, after all.
Robert spent a nice, long hour sliding in and out of Sophia until he fell into a deafening groan with a lingering orgasm, fitting of the hour that made it happen. Robert felt something stirring inside him, far beyond what he paid for. He wanted to believe Sophia felt it, too. But she left the bed, got a warm washcloth from the bathroom, cleaned him up, then kissed him soft on the mouth and told him she had to go. She was out the door a minute later and in his mind ever since.
Still, he couldn't bear to call her.
Robert probably would have taken a lot longer to finally make another appointment if he didn’t have the Alzheimer’s Banquet. It was the one charity he’d always given to, and because Kim was a leach, it was the one she’d latched onto as well. Tonight Robert wasn’t paying for sex. He was paying to have a beautiful girl on his arm since he knew for a fact that his cunt ex-wife would be there with that pissant high school teacher Floyd.
Sure, Sophia would cause a stir, but it would be the good kind. It wasn’t like anyone would know she was an escort. They would simply assume she, like Kim, was using Robert for his money, which was fine by Robert; much better than people knowing he paid women to fuck him.
He was about a mile and a half away from the banquet hall when Robert had the sudden urge to jerk himself off. He wasn’t especially horny, but he figured it might be a good idea since Sophia had a way of making him rock hard without warning, and encouraged him to take care of his needs immediately, even if it meant shoving her to the floor and thrusting his cock in her mouth. That would obviously cause a bit of a scene in a room filled with mostly elderly donors.
No, he would be able to control himself. Besides, if he jerked off in the car or bathroom or wherever else he could manage two and a half minutes of privacy, he would likely enter the banquet feeling guilty, and guilt would make it hard to look Kim in the eye. Plus, Sophia would know. She had a way of knowing things just by looking.
Robert parked his black 911 beside the hunter green Range Rover belonging to his partner, Paul. No sign of Kim or her Beamer. He crossed the hotel lobby, ignoring the banquet signs and making a beeline for the bar where he knew Sophia was waiting, scotch in hand. As always, she looked stunning.
He didn’t know for sure, but figured Sophia was about 10 years younger than he was, even though she looked 10 years younger than that. She had a perfect body and sexy, straight blond hair. Her skin was almost glassy and her lips brought everything together with a beautiful promise.
“You look great,” Sophia smiled.
Robert laughed. “I was just thinking the same thing about you,” he said. “You ready?” he nodded toward the far side of the bar and the corridor spilling into the banquet hall.
“Sure,” she said, “but you’re not. You need a few minutes, and you should definitely take it. Those aren’t my people in there, they’re yours, and you want to be ready.”
“Did you already check it out?”
“Of course.” Sophia nodded, took a sip of her scotch, then waved at the bartender. “Two shots of Don Campañero, please.”
Robert smiled. She was trying to loosen him up. The shots came and they downed them together. “Just warning you,” she said. “She is there and he is, too.”
“I know,” Robert said.
Sophia smiled and said, “Let’s finish getting ready,” then took his hand and led him to the ladies room, explaining on the way that he was a little too tense not to make an ass of himself, and that spilling in her mouth and watching her swallow would be the perfect way to ease the tension.
It was.
There was no one in the ladies room when Sophia led Robert to the handicapped stall and shut the door behind them. Robert frantically unzipped his black silk blend slacks and released his rock hard cock. Sophia held the base firmly in her fingers, working her tongue around his head and down his shaft. Pre-cum oozed onto her practiced tongue and Sophia savored its taste with a smile on her lips. Robert started to rumble, desperate to cum and knowing they only had moments to spare.
Sophia relentlessly sucked, her head bouncing up and down, with one hand cupping his balls and the other gripping his shaft, her hand following her mouth in a blur. He buried his hands in Sophia’s hair and she yelped, probably more from surprise than pain. He was close to exploding and couldn’t wait to fill Sophia’s hot, wet mouth.
“Mmmmmm....,” Sophia was moaning. “Please shoot your cum into my slutty mouth!” Robert didn’t need any more encouragement than that. The words had barely left her mouth when they were replaced by his hot spray. Her lips tightened around his head as she swallowed the first spurt and waited for the second. She pulled her lips from his shaft as he shuddered.
She looked up at Robert and smiled, opening her mouth. “All gone,” she
said. “Am I a good girl?”
Fuck yeah, she was. That was exactly what he needed.
They fled the restroom, practically skipping toward the banquet hall. Robert felt like a million bucks with another $10 million on his arm as he and Sophia stepped inside and found their seats. Not only could Sophia read him better than Kim ever could — even after 17 years — she felt better beside him. It was like the first time he finally had a suit tailored, rather than pulling one from the rack. Even if there wasn’t a sincere molecule in her body, Sophia was worth every goddamn penny.
Robert didn’t quite know what to expect when he’d invited Sophia to the Alzheimer’s Banquet, but he wasn’t prepared for her pitch perfect delivery.
Sophia was elegant and charming, funny and sweet, with enough personality to light their entire table and all the ones surrounding it. Kim glared through most of the meal, but Sophia just smiled, like she did when Paul asked where the two of them had met.
Sophia told stories about Robert, changing times and dates and locations and context, keeping everything out of the bedroom, while clearly showing the room she knew her man inside out, upside down, and everywhere else that mattered. Her honest, yet fresh perspective on his life and mind made Robert want to cry, and fuck her sideways. Knowing that he could, and that he already had the bills folded and waiting to pay for the pleasure, made him so hard under the table he had to spend most of the banquet sitting.
As hard as it was to believe, Robert realized an hour in dinner, Sophia was every bit as good at the stuff outside the bedroom as she was between the sheets. Maybe better. And as always, she knew exactly what he needed, which was why she started steering them toward an early exit, a full hour before Robert realized he was ready to go.
Proximity to Kim and alcohol was a bad combination, and the bitch was sitting a table away. They were pouring wine like it was water, and Robert was drinking like he was trying to prove it actually was. It was midway through the fourth glass when he came to the twisted realization he’d been trying to deny for a while: it was quite possible he was falling for a girl who rented herself by the hour.
If that didn’t make him the world’s biggest loser, he wasn’t sure what did. Still, there was no denying the feeling – the pitter patter he had for Sophia was the closest thing he’d had to feeling like he had a “girlfriend” since college, and enough to blur his reality.
“We need to get you home,” Sophia whispered, then apologized to everyone with an elegant story Robert only half heard, while most of him tried to untangle whether it was really possible to love an escort, or if that was just his dick and the alcohol holding court in his head.
You don’t pay a hooker to fuck you, you pay her to leave.
That was the conventional wisdom that kept running through his head as Sophia took the wheel and drove Robert back to his apartment. She lovingly rubbed his cock the entire trip, surely livening him up so he could shoot his load and quickly fall to sleep, so she could grab her money and be on her way.
Robert was wrong.
Sophia led him up the apartment and put him to bed, then put on a soft white negligee and slowly tended to every inch of his body. His head was swimming, saturated as it was in alcohol and confusion, and his heavy breathing was punctuated by the occasional drunken groan of ecstasy. He had no idea how long it was before he finally felt the tightening of his cock, chased by the immediate blast and shuddering release of the thick orgasm leaving his body, but Sophia obviously wasn’t in a hurry. It was more tender than he’d expected for sure, though of course, it was also exactly what he needed.
Completely spent, Robert fell to sleep and dreamt of the impossible – holding hands with Sophia, happy forever. When he woke, the last thing he expected to see was exactly what he did – Sophia watching him slowly opening his eyes beneath the bright light of a brand new morning
“Good morning, Bob,” she said. “Would you like me to make us some coffee?”
XXX
Sasha Middleton: Fuck Me Harder And Stop Making Me Wait
Sasha closed her eyes as Jake’s hands slid down her panties and pressed into her perfect young milky flesh. He pulled her shirt down and grazed his lips across her bare shoulder, his fingers caressing her inner thighs in long sweeps that took her from tingle to blush. Her head was back, mouth open. “Jake,” she turned to meet his eyes.
Jake pulled his fingers from her underwear, then put them in her mouth. She suckled then mmmmm’d, and said, “I love you.”
“I love you, too” he whispered, moving his mouth to the long line of her neck. She shivered beneath him. Sasha wrapped her legs behind his back and massaged her pelvis against his erection. Jake pushed his body into hers. “You want me?” he said.
Sasha nodded. “Make me feel good,” she said. He was, stroking her panties, feeling the soft folds of her clit swelling just beneath. “Go inside me,” she whispered.
Sasha opened and closed her mouth as Jake’s teasing fingers lingered along the sides of her lips. From wet to wetter, she lightly squealed as Jake took her mouth in his. She sank into his kiss, sucking the warm and wet of his tongue into her mouth, feeling each brush between her legs as his fingers teased her tiny hairs. Her deep ache was answered when the first of three fingers slipped inside, then was hit with a nice wave when she felt the third. It wasn’t enough.
“I want you all,” she said, taking his warm length in her curled palm. Jake groaned, still stroking Sasha between her legs, and thrusting his hips into her loose fist.
Jake pulled himself from Sasha, pulled her panties past her ankles, then threw them behind his shoulder. Her lips were parted before they hit the floor. He thrust his tongue inside her cunt.
This was part of Jake’s new style.
He had tried to give her oral sex before, plenty, but it had never been anything like this. A couple of weeks back, Jake’s tongue fucking made her finally understand what her girlfriends were talking about, and barely get it out of her mind.
Her thighs trembled as his tongue slipped inside her soaking folds. She moved her hips, pushing her pleasure into his mouth. He wanted her, his cock was throbbing and there was an animal in his eyes.
But he wouldn’t take her.
Jake pressed his cock into the mattress and kept feeding on her gushing center, getting off on her rising momentum, pushing himself harder into the mattress, fueled by her drive to ecstasy. She filled her fists with Egyptian cotton and bucked wildly against Jake’s face, cumming hard against his hungry mouth. This was part of Jake’s new style, too: making sure she was pickled in pleasure before his pickle sank in her juice.
Sasha finished shuddering against his jaw, then collapsed on the bed, grinning at his engorged cock. She wrapped her fingers around it and started stroking. “Now will you put it inside me?” she said.
Wordless, he grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her toward him, then flipped her on her back and took her from behind. She shrieked, arching her back, shoving her ass up in the air, and begging him to push harder and deeper.
She wanted all of him.
Part of Jake’s new style, of course, the way he teased her, made her want him, made her think about him when he wasn’t around.
“More,” she moaned. “Deeper. I need all of you.”
Jake started pounding faster, making sounds that were nothing like language, shoving her closer to the wall with every thrust until her head was making music on the wall. “Fuck me like you know I like it,” Sasha screamed.
The way she used to like it wasn’t the way she’d started to like it since Jake started giving it to her in a whole new way. Now she wanted his animal.
He was grunting and thrashing, out of control. Pleasure mounted inside her. His thrusts were wild, leaving her slit a centimeter cold as it hit open air before slamming back inside. “Don’t leave me,” she pleaded as the lips of her cunt swallowed the skin of his cock, milking his dick with every forward move.
“FUCK!” He slammed his hand hard agains
t the wall. “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”
“Am I your fucking whore?” Sasha said.
“YES!” He was still cumming, his liquid heat soaking her insides.
“Say it!”
“You’re my fucking whore!” he screamed, shooting the last of his blast, then falling to the bed, rolling to his side, wrapping his arms around Sasha, and pulling her toward him.
It was amazing. But it wasn’t true at all.
Jake’s whore was a slut named Brooke Singer. And he’d been fucking her for nearly three weeks, at least to the best of Sasha’s estimation.
At first it was instinct, then a dull thud like something had fallen to the floor of her mind. She and Jake had known one another since approximately forever, so it wasn’t hard to see when something changed, in or out of the bedroom.
She couldn't bring herself to hire a PI. That was a total invasion of privacy, and something you could never go back on. Like hiring a hooker. So Sasha asked the doorman, Ted. But Ted hadn’t seen a thing, said as far as he knew, Jake was kosher as summer camp at the synagogue. But then, almost two weeks ago, Ted called her, saying he’d seen Jake with the girl. He also said that Les, the Tuesday guy, had seen Jake with the girl for at least the past three weeks.
Sasha waited until the next Tuesday, waiting outside to catch him, and did. Sasha waited for the girl to leave, then followed her home and grabbed her address. And while she would never hire a PI to follow Jake, she had no qualms hiring a PI to follow the girl fucking her boyfriend. Two days later, Sasha Middleton knew pretty much everything there was to know about Brooke Singer, including that she had four outstanding parking tickets and one count of drunk and disorderly. Not to mention getting paid for sex pretty much every day ending in Y, including Tuesdays which belonged to her boyfriend, Jake.
Fifty Shades of Lexi Maxxwell Page 21