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Authors: Jayne Rylon

Tags: #Erotica

Can't Buy Love (3 page)

BOOK: Can't Buy Love
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“Did that help?” Dane tucks a lock of hair behind my ear then rests on his heels, reminding me of my fish Goldy while he gulps for breath, so I can dispose of his condom.

“A little.” Not nearly enough. If anything, it made me crave Rick more—the relief only he can grant.

“I know exactly what you mean.” Dane shrugs with a smile that lifts one corner of his lips. I stretch then swing my legs over the edge of the mattress, gathering my thoughts and my balance as he replaces his dress clothes. They’re a little wrinkled and worse for wear. Disarray is cute on him.

“What’s that look for?” He cups my cheek in his palm then hands me my tiny scraps of lace and glitter. I’m dressed in two-point-six seconds flat.

“Thinking I’m glad our paths crossed. The first time, every time. Especially this time.”

“Same here. So, is your guy going to try to kick my ass when I leave?” The twinkle in his eye draws another chuckle from me. “I may not be much to look at but I’m still pretty quick for an old man.”

“Well, he is a bouncer.”

Dane winces.

“Rick isn’t that kind of guy. He relies on nasty glares to convince drunk kids on vacation they shouldn’t mess with him or his charges over at Tommy’s live sex show. You know, Triple X.”

“Ah. I thought he seemed familiar. Wait, is he the man from the Kinkmas pageant?”

“You were there?” The idea of Dane watching Rick top me sends shivers along my spine.

He nods then groans. “Can’t think about it now or I’ll need a repeat and I really do have to be somewhere. Damn, the two of you were spectacular.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, I hope he’s the kind of guy who figures out how lucky he is before it’s too late.”

The wistful note in his whisper makes me wonder. “If you enjoy this lifestyle, why did you get married? Three times.”

“Simple. You can’t buy love. Despite the fact that I’m likely to fuck it up sooner or later, I’ll probably attempt it again. Fourth time’s the charm, right?”

“Only if you come at it different. Maybe you should be open about your desires instead of forcing yourself into an arrangement that doesn’t fit. Just like some of the other ladies who jam themselves into corsets they have to change out of after an hour or two once they realize they can’t breathe.”

“Or like a whore who dreams of a boyfriend who doesn’t mind her profession?” We trundle down the stairs together, both gripping the railing to offset our wobbly legs.

“Yes. Like that.”

“I don’t think I’m as brave as you, Star.” Dane draws on his coat and collects the cash we’d abandoned on the floor of my booth earlier. In the small space, he reaches my lockbox before I can step in front of him.

“No, don’t.”

He frowns.

“Tonight’s on the house.”

“That isn’t how the world works. Good luck, Star.” Dane drops the bills into container, half-full after a busy start to the evening. He cuddles me against his chest then brushes his lips over my temple before slipping through my window.

A puff of freezing air erodes the warmth we’d generated together, sending shivers down my spine.

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

 

My thoughts stray as I kneel on the pillow I keep handy for customers with straightforward requests. Some are comfortable venturing barely over the edge into my window, and others find their experience enhanced by staying downstairs, relishing the thought of the crowd within reach, on the other side of the flimsy curtain and glass while they indulge their wild cravings.

“Jordaan, move over.”

“As far as I can go, Alfons.”

The two punked-out ravers before me barely fit shoulder to shoulder in the confines of my booth, despite stacking my stool on top of the tiny table holding the essentials for my business. They open their euro-electronica-inspired coats, revealing tight, florescent T-shirts. One of them grunts as he takes an elbow to the ribs in their rush to unbuckle their spiked belts and unzip their slashed and chained jeans.

The familiar scent of rich Belgian beer isn’t heavy enough to have forced me to decline the pair. It makes me eager to finish my shift and grab a pint with Mari over eggs. A traditional sex worker breakfast.

I hand them each a glow-in-the-dark condom that matches the fast, digitized melodies I imagine them bouncing to in a packed club then monitor their hasty precision in donning them. Experienced yet a little nervous. A potent combination.

“I’ll take good care of you boys.” I can’t help but smile at the grateful lust that rages in their charcoal-lined eyes and deepens the color the weather has placed in their cheeks. “Who’s first? Or would you rather do this together?”

“Uh…” Jordaan balks as Alfons shoots him a bewildered glance.

I slather my palms with lube while they work it out between them. The tension rolling off the pair lifts my brows. Maybe they’re unwilling to admit the truth, to themselves or each other. I have no trouble recognizing latent desire when I see it.

Interesting.

“Not
together
together, but if you can do us simultaneously, then we should probably stick with that. Fifteen minutes isn’t a hell of a lot of time.”

“I bet you only last five, Jordie.”

“Asshole. I’ll hang on longer than your ten seconds.”

Men never cease to amuse me. There’s not a chance in hell either of them will require the full allocation they’ve paid for. I’m much better than that. “All right, boys. I can handle it if you can. May the best man win.”

I waste no time grasping their stiff cocks.

Instead of heading straight for the hardcore pumping they might expect, I toy with them, brushing the pads of my thumbs over the long bump decorating the bottom of each of their shafts. Their respectable lengths are an even match, like most everything else about the duo.

I circle the ridge beneath their mushroomed heads. Jordaan gasps. He uses his tongue to toy with the silver hoop in his lip. The echo of Alfons’ chuckle vibrates through the side of my palm when it connects with his heavily tattooed torso. “Like I said…”

I ripple my fingers at the base of his erection, morphing his tease into a gurgle.

Each man inches closer, as though trying to bury himself deeper in my grasp. The only possibility dictates they turn inward, angling toward each other to accomplish their goal. Jordaan’s cock jerks in my hold when he peeks toward his friend, noting the unbridled lust on Alfons’ face as I massage them identically.

I sprinkle in a few of the wiles I’ve mastered over the past several years until their hips meet every stroke of my hand with an urgent thrust. The jingle of metal zippers, buckles, chains and piercings acts as a lascivious metronome, setting the hurried tempo of our dance. Wild lunges edge them forward until my knuckles nearly bang together. The slippery combination of my lubed hand on latex ensures one of them will break my hold as their motion escalates.

I tip my head back to assess the situation. Jordaan has forgotten I exist, focusing on Alfons’ rapturous expression as he savors the pleasure they’ve purchased. I can’t suppress my grin as I loosen my hold a fraction on Alfons’ insistent cock.

Alfons groans with a hint of desperation when he escapes my fingers and his cock deflects off my other hand, gliding his rubber-encased shaft across the tip of his friend’s cock. The contours of his notable veins caress Jordaan, who shudders in my hold.

I squeeze on the base of Jordaan’s cock, hard, preventing him from instant explosion, which would end the firework display about to begin in my booth. He sighs and brushes my arm with a light touch from his black-tipped fingers. I toss him a wink.

Instead of recoiling or pausing for me to re-grip, Alfons repeats the motion, impressing me with his open-minded pursuit of rapture. I start slowly—cautious, monitoring them for any sign of objection—by placing my palm on the top side of Alfons’ cock, pressing it tighter to Jordaan’s. The position allows Alfons to aid me in adding weight to my now shortened strokes on the head of Jordaan’s cock.

“Oh fuck. Yes.” Jordaan scrunches his eyes closed for an instant before forcing them open as though he can’t bear to miss a single second of our encounter. I’m guessing he’s dreamed of this for a while.

What other career allows you to share in people’s most secret desires—help bring them to life? I love my job.

I adjust my fingers to grant Alfons greater access. His shaft slides along the full length of Jordaan’s cock. It requires hardly any alteration to envelop them both in my hand, bundling their hard-ons in my half-closed grasp. They overflow my palm. I add my other hand, cupping their cocks together as they begin to fuck my joined fists.

“Christ.” Alfons mutters as he strains to penetrate the tightening ring of my hands in decadent counterpoint to his friend. Their exaggerated motion ensures they fuck along the entire length of each other with every re-entry.

I allow them to wring ecstasy from the arcs of their trim hips for a couple of minutes before I notice the novelty of the position begins to dim. I monitor the arousal I’ve raised to a fever pitch between them. Both men alternate between staring at the juncture of our bodies and stealing glimpses of the lust evident on the other man’s face. Smoky eyes, corded tendons in their necks and flushed cheeks paint an unmistakable picture.

They’re ready. I can escort them a little farther into the realm of shadowed desires.

I grasp them separately, ignoring their grunts and groans of protest. I’m sure of what’s best. “Trust me.”

Giant breaths bellow their chests as they teeter away from the cliff they were rushing too fast toward. Suddenly, neither one seems to be in a hurry to conclude our business. They still have a solid five minutes remaining and I’m determined to make it the best three hundred seconds of their lives.

I tilt Alfons’ cock until the head is pressed to the center seam of Jordaan’s sac.

“Fuck.”

I’m not sure which one of them whispers the curse but I nod. “Push gently.”

Jordaan rises to tip-toes as best he’s able in his midnight eyelet knee-high combat boots, aligning the men more perfectly so Alfons can do a proper job of caressing his friend’s tight balls with shallow, careful strokes. The motion destroys the eager brutality of their earlier fierce fucking through my hands.

It modifies the moment—re-plots the course of their relationship.

Alfons’ gentle delivery of rapture makes my eyes sting. I nuzzle their thighs, light enough to avoid nudging them off balance, to ease the pressure. The subtle slide of crinkled skin over Alfons’ ultrasensitive cock head must feel divine. He imparts a sensual kiss with the tip of his erection to Jordaan’s genitals.

When Jordaan shivers, moaning, Alfons grins.

Oh no, I won’t allow him to lord over Jordaan.

They’re both even in my booth.

Alfons protests when I release the pressure keeping him in position. His cock smacks his taut belly. It stands at attention between the open flaps of designer denim as I grant Jordaan a chance to return the favor.

“Yes. God yes.” He practically whimpers as he rubs himself over Alfons’ balls. I count on the subtle pleasure to evolve the frenzy of delight they could have achieved minutes ago to something deeper, soul-wrenching, impossible to deny once they abandon the surreal cocoon of my window.

Jordaan’s hands ball into fists at his side. Alfons grows impatient, bending his knees to increase the pressure of his friend’s timid explorations. I can only do so much to impede the overwhelming passion bearing down on them both like a freight train.

I gather their cocks together once more, allowing them to fuck—in synch this time—unaided for a dozen or so powerful thrusts.

Then I go for the kill.

I lean forward and wrap my lips over the top of my fist, welcoming the protruding tips of their cocks into the moist heat of my mouth at the apex of every plunge. When I swirl my tongue over their heads, dark purple even through the thin, luminous barrier, Jordaan stumbles.

Alfons leans forward until their chests meet. They support each other like the poles of a teepee. So close they can’t possibly ignore the revelation of their evening together. I wish I could watch the moist exchange of lips and tongues I can hear occurring above me, though their bodies obscure my view.

Somehow it seems fitting for their mating mouths to remain private.

Their heated kiss involves more than sex, more than an indulgence of base need. My heart cheers as I seal the deal by hollowing my cheeks and sucking them hard. They fuck my hands and mouth in unison.

They don’t need to warn me. Or each other. Their cocks swell then pulse in my gasp. I pull off for a moment to study the spray of come spurting from their bodies, filling the reservoirs of their condoms. They surrender as one to the enchanted moment we created together.

I’m privileged to witness their lust pour into the rubber sheathing them. I crouch—grateful for my heels, which facilitate the position—and continue to manipulate them with gentle strokes, bringing them down safely from an impossible high.

I could be invisible.

They continue to make out. Alfons sucks Jordaan’s sassy silver hoop into his mouth and nips the man’s lip. Supportive arms loop around one another’s backs.

BOOK: Can't Buy Love
7.04Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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