by Penny Wylder
“Shit,” I gasp.
“What?” Lara leans over my shoulder to squint.
An automatic popup appears.
Thank you for booking with Here to Serve. Your appointment has been set for 8PM.
I’m too busy staring open-mouthed at that response to register Lara reading over my shoulder until I hear her faint intake of breath.
“Is this… what I think it is?”
“Um… Depends if you think it’s what you suggested earlier or not?” I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Dammit, I didn’t mean to select that option. How do I cancel it?” I tap on the screen frantically, searching for other options. There’s not even an option to reply to the message, let alone change my preferences. “Oh my god, I can’t go through with this, I put in way too much detail.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Lara starts. She pats my shoulder to get my attention.
I’m too busy freaking out at the phone to notice. “Crap, I have to cancel this—”
Lara snatches the phone from my hands before I go too far over the deep end. “Relax,” she tells me, and then she takes over searching for me.
I stand hovering over her shoulder, lips pressed into a thin hard line, as I watch my friend hunt for a way to cancel the appointment I just made with an escort for tonight.
We find a contact button at the bottom of the page, but their hours are listed as 9am-5pm, and it’s already past 5.
We reply within 48-72 hours, guaranteed! It proclaims cheerily.
“Shit,” I swear again.
“Hey, don’t worry.” Lara rests a hand on my arm. “It’s a simple fix. He’s coming to you, right? So you just meet him and say it was a mistake, and ask to cancel. Worst comes to worst, you might have to pay him some kind of cancellation fee or something, but that’s all. It’s not worth panicking over.”
I can feel myself nodding. “You’re right, yeah. I’ll just tell him it’s a mistake.”
Lara searches my face for a moment to make sure I’m not still secretly freaking. Then she breaks into stifled laughter.
I narrow my eyes. “What?”
“I can’t believe you did it, that’s all,” she chuckles.
“You told me to!” I protest, elbowing her.
“I was joking.” She rolls her eyes and passes the phone back. “Though hey, maybe this will help after all. I mean you do need to get laid, so… And who knows? Maybe he’s into your same secretive desires.”
My cheeks flare bright red yet again. I elbow her once more for good measure and tuck my phone into my pocket. “So not funny.”
“This coming from the girl who just hired an escort for the evening.”
If I could melt into the floor right now and disappear, I would. “If you tell anyone about this, I swear to god—”
“Oh come on.” Lara hooks her arm through mine and squeezes me to her side, trying and failing to placate me. “Who the hell would I tell? You’re the only person I talk to these days anyway. You’re turning me into just as bad a workaholic as you are.”
I snort, but fall into step beside her, headed back toward the kitchen. Just a few more hours here. And then I have to head home and…
Well…
I shake my head. No. I’m not getting dressed up or anything to meet this guy. I’m just going to open the door, tell him it’s all a big misunderstanding but no thank you, and then go to bed early.
Clearly I am sleep deprived. It’s the only explanation for the insane decisions I’ve made so far today.
Hopefully after a long shower and time to consider my life choices, I’ll make better ones tomorrow, I think.
4
Less than fifteen minutes until my escort is due to arrive.
Despite the promise I made to myself, I’ve gone and dressed up. Well, okay, “up” is an overstatement. But I’m in a skirt and a cute T-shirt, and I showered and did my hair for the first time in longer than I can count. I even dusted on some foundation and a touch of mascara. Just in case. It makes me feel a little less nervous, to know that I look decent.
Only a little less, though. Most of my nerve endings feel like they’re on fire, and my stomach is set to churn itself right out of my body.
I pace over to the windows for what feels like the tenth time and quickly check the street outside. No sign of a car yet.
I sit back down and force myself not to check again. He’ll get here when he gets here.
Or maybe he won’t. Maybe this is all a big misunderstanding on his end too. Maybe he’s double-booked or he’ll need to cancel. Maybe he didn’t mean to accept that email either.
I find myself praying he doesn’t show. Then I can just retreat upstairs, treat myself to a long hard session with my toys, on my own thank you very much, and go to sleep early.
At least I’ll have good fodder for my imagination tonight. Unbidden, the image of Caleb—which cannot be his real name—rises to mind. I doubt that photo included his real abs either. There’s no way a guy exists with a body that perfect. Not to mention his face—the cut cheekbones, the perfect amount of scruffy beard below his sharp gray eyes and his narrow nose. The way he stared into the screen, it felt like he could see right through the computer to me. I can’t even imagine how intense that look must be in real life.
Unable to help myself, I picture him undressed in the same room as me. I start to imagine how exactly he’d fulfill his promise—his promise to fill me like no other man ever has. I envision him bending me over the couch in my living room and pinning my arms to the cushions while he undoes my belt, runs a hand along the seam of my panties. He’d have thick, strong fingers, thick enough to drive me wild when he slips one under the string of my thong, tugs it aside and pushes one finger up to his knuckle inside my tight pussy…
My doorbell rings.
I gasp and leap off the couch. Damn. My panties feel a little bit wet already. I’m letting my imagination run away with itself. Calm down, Carmine. I’m not going to fuck this guy. Not even going to entertain the idea.
I’m just here to explain the misunderstanding and ask him to be on his way.
I cross the living room, take a deep breath, and open the door.
Then I immediately lose that breath of air all over again.
The man standing on my doorstep looks like he just stepped out of every woman’s wet dream. He’s dressed casually in a tight T-shirt that shows off his bulging biceps, his strong chest and even his flat, washboard abs. I can count the ridges through the fabric.
Guess that photo wasn’t photoshopped after all.
As expected, those piercing gray eyes are even more intense in person. He smiles at me, a crooked half-smile that makes my heart seize in my chest and my belly tighten in anticipation. He looks ready to eat me alive—and I want to let him.
I stagger back a step, all the pre-planned words I meant to say trapping themselves in my throat at once.
“You must be Carmine,” he says, still grinning that half-grin.
Any remaining resistance I might have drummed up dies as soon as I hear his voice. Of course. I should have guessed from his name. Caleb British.
I can’t help it. It’s too fucking much—I have to laugh. So I do.
He steps inside—I back away from the door enough to give him space, and I can’t think of anything else to do now except close it behind him. At least I can let him down in private. “What’s so funny?” he asks, one brow lifted.
“Should have guessed you were British,” I respond when I manage to find my voice. “From your name.”
“I’m from London, yes. Fake name though, obviously,” he replies, though he’s still smiling.
“Obviously,” I echo.
“But enough about me. I want to hear about you, Carmine.” He angles himself toward me.
Without thinking, I step backwards, toward the living room. He follows, until I’m trapped between this towering, muscular, hot-as-hell man and th
e back of my couch. I lean against the couch in what I hope looks like a casual move, rather than the truth—like my knees have lost the ability to keep me upright by their own volition.
“Me?” I shake my head. “Oh, I don’t know, I’m… I’m just from here, nothing exciting…”
“Why did you hire me?” He tilts his head.
“Does there need to be a story?” I ask, biting my lip.
“There usually is. I want to hear yours.” His eyes bore into me; will me to tell him the truth.
“I… Well. I don’t have a lot of free time to date or anything. So, it’s… been a while.”
His gaze dips over my body again. “I find that hard to believe.”
I flush. “I work a lot.”
“What do you do?” He leans against the wall, still eying me, totally shameless about it.
“I own a bakery,” I say. “Red Velvet.”
His eyes widen. “The new place that everyone is talking about?”
“You’ve heard of us?” My cheeks really burn now.
“Of course. You’re all my sister can talk about lately.” He laughs softly. Then seems to remember himself, and shakes his head, stepping closer to me. “So, you’re too busy to date…”
“And, I… I find it difficult to find people who like… Um, the same things.”
“Judging by that message you sent describing what you like, I’d beg to differ,” he replies, tilting his head. He lets his eyes roam over my body, lingering a long time on my chest, then my legs below my skirt. He makes no bones about checking me out—in fact, checking me out seems like an understatement. More like he’s weighing me to decide if he can throw me over his shoulder and kidnap me for his own.
I’d let him, at this point.
I swallow, hard.
“I’ve got to say, Carmine, you caught my attention with that description. You were so detailed, so forthright.” He takes another step closer. I’m already back against the couch. I have nowhere to go but here. I plant my feet and tilt my head back to keep my eyes locked on his as he stands over me. God, he’s huge. I can only imagine what his cock must look like.
Bad Carmine, I scold myself.
Still imagining it though. Not to mention the fact that he’s talking about what I wrote on that site—that filthy description of my darkest secrets—as though it’s sexy to him.
“I appreciate a girl who’s upfront about what she wants.” He smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Not to mention someone who’s as fucking kinky as I am.”
We’ll see about that, I think. “It’s hard to find people who like the same things you do,” I answer honestly, for once. “Especially when it’s kinky.”
“I find it hard to believe that you have any shortage of guys wanting to fill you up,” he counters.
My face flushes bright red. “To be honest, a few have tried,” I respond. I lock eyes with him. If he scares easily, this is where it’ll happen. “But I’m very particular.”
“Good,” he answers right away, without thinking. He takes another step closer, so he’s just inches from me now. I can feel the heat radiating off his body, feel the ghost of his breath on my cheeks. “I prefer a challenge.”
My whole body flares. Goddamn. No man has ever responded quite like that before. But still, my mind races ahead of my traitor body. Reminds me what I came here to do. “Look, Caleb, I should tell you something…”
He lifts one hand to trail it up my arm, tracing all the way from my wrist up to my shoulder.
Fuck. That one touch sets my whole body alight. I feel a rush of desire curling in my gut. My pussy feels tight with anticipation, and my clit throbs with desire. My panties were already damp—now they’re going to be soaking by the time I get him out of here.
Should I get him out of here?
I shake my head. Of course. I need to. I can’t hook up with an escort. No matter how fucking sexy he might be. Or how into me he seems. Or how much he actually seems to like the same things I do.
He’s only into you because you’re paying him to be, I remind myself.
“I, um, there was a mistake with my form,” I manage to say.
He tilts his head to one side. “Did you forget to add something?” That smile widens. “Maybe a domination fantasy… Or if you’d like to be tied up, I have some rope in the car…”
My face could start a small forest fire now. “No, that’s not—I didn’t mean to confirm the appointment, that’s all.”
For a moment, I see something flash across his face. Something almost like… Disappointment?
That can’t be right.
“I’ll still pay you—you came all the way out here. I just didn’t mean to actually book you, I’m sorry.”
“Having second thoughts?” He lets his hand drop from my shoulder. My skin burns where his touch was a moment ago, still hot. It feels like he left a brand on my skin. I want him to touch me again. “That’s natural,” he says, backing up a step to give me space. Immediately I want him to move closer again too. “When you have a fantasy for a long time, it can feel strange to actually have the chance to live it out.”
“I…” I pause to lick my lips. The way he talks, it’s like he knows he can actually fulfill my dreams. Not like my exes or other guys I’ve hooked up with. Not nervous or worried or doubting. He’s so confident—so damned sure of himself. And so into this kink. It’s hot as hell. But I force myself to shake my head again. “It’s not that. I just didn’t mean to hire an…”
“An escort?” he laughs. “What, did you just wind up on our website by accident?”
“Yes.” I nod firmly. “Complete accident.”
“Right. And you just clicked on my profile by accident too. You didn’t think, here’s a man who can really fuck me senseless, stuff me full and give me the good hard drilling I’m begging for.”
I swallow again, trying to wet my lips. “Also… Also an accident, yeah.”
“So you don’t want me to try?” He raises a single eyebrow and lets his gaze sweep over my body again. “You don’t want me to bend you backwards over this couch right here and fuck you while I shove my thumb inside your ass?”
My pussy throbs. My clit feels like a heavy lead weight between my thighs. God, I’m going to have to jerk off for so long tonight to get him out of my head.
“Um…” I can’t make myself deny it. Not when he’s staring at me like this.
He steps in closer again and reaches up. This time he bypasses my arm, trails his fingertip along the nape of my neck instead. Traces the edge of my jawline lightly, feather soft. A sharp contrast to the way he’s talking right now. “You don’t want to take me upstairs, show me your collection of sex toys, and let me fuck you with every single toy in that collection, one after the other?” His smile goes deep, seductive. “I bet we could go all night and not run out of new toys to try, couldn’t we, you kinky girl?”
“Probably,” I answer without thinking, eyes locked on his.
He laughs again, louder. “I love your filthy mind, Carmine. So come on. Are you really going to tell me you don’t want this? If you don’t, say it and I’ll leave.”
I hesitate. Stare up at him. His grin widens.
“If you want me to stay, then show me your bedroom…”
We don’t have to have sex, I tell myself. Even though I’m already imagining his cock. How fucking glorious it would feel to have a real live man fucking me again, instead of just my toys. Not to mention this man. This perfect fucking specimen. This man who’s standing right here telling me he wants to act out my darkest fantasies.
I grab his hand before I can think better of it and tug him up my staircase.
“I thought so,” he laughs as he trails after me.
I glance over my shoulder at him. “It’s the first door on the right,” I say, still standing halfway up the staircase. “If you really want to take me.”
He reads my mind. Caleb grabs me and flings me over his shoulder with ease. I’m not a tiny girl, but for him i
t seems to be nothing. He carries me up the steps without even slowing, and turns right at the landing, kicking open my door to carry me across the threshold. His body is white-hot against mine, his muscles digging into my stomach, my thighs, my chest.
By the time he tosses me across the bed, I can hardly breathe from anticipation. He drops onto the bed on all fours above me and I lie back, gazing up at him, my breath trapped in my chest.
“Which drawer?” he asks, and I catch my breath. This is it. The moment I’ve fantasized about for so long. A guy who’s finally willing to be as filthy and kinky as I am.
“Top drawer,” I answer, eyes locked on his.
He reaches across me without responding and pulls it open. “You don’t disappoint, do you, Carmine?” I can hear the low chuckle in his voice, and something else under it. Desire. Lust. “God, you are such a filthy little girl.”
I lean up beneath him, closer to the drawer, and peek at what he’s doing.
He still has one hand in the drawer, and brings the other to trail down my neck and rest on my upper arm as he gazes down at me below him. “I’m going to fulfill all your fantasies, Carmine,” he says, voice low and hot. “Even the ones you didn’t know you had.”
Another shiver races along my spine. “You think?” I ask, lifting my chin. “Because I have a lot of fantasies…”
He smirks. “Oh, I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun together.” He lets his hand slide around my waist, cups my hips to pull me up against him. I arch my hips toward him, and he slides one thigh between my legs. I can feel the brush of his cock against my inner thigh, just briefly, before he leans back to reach for the drawer again. “But you’re underestimating the power of my imagination, Carmine. And you, my dear, are very inspiring…”
He reaches down and grabs my shirt. He pulls it up over my head, and tosses it aside, then takes a moment to gaze down at my body. I shiver again, even more so when he reaches beneath me to cup my breasts in his strong hands. He massages them gently, his fingers flick across my nipples, and even through the fabric of the bra I can feel them growing hard. Then he slides his hands around my sides and glides them down my waist toward my hips instead.