The Escort Next Door (8 page)

Not Just A Job

I
don’t recall how I went from sitting at the
table to laying on the bed. I do know that my head was swimming and it wasn’t
just thanks to my old friend the fermented potato.

David’s mouth was still moving leisurely over mine,
occasionally sucking my lower lip between his teeth. He was lying next to me on
his side, pressing the length of his body to mine, while one arm draped across
me and the hand gently caressed my hip.

By that stage, I was beginning to return his kiss with an
enthusiasm I didn’t have to fake. One of my hands had unconsciously smoothed up
his chest and curled over his shoulder, while the other snaked around the back
of his head and was pulling him that little bit closer. As I tightened my
fingers, gripping a handful of his smooth, thick hair, a guttural groan
reverberated from his open mouth to mine.

Fluidly, he eased his hand over the curve of my pelvis and
began to confidently stroke his way down my thigh. When he reached my knee, he
hooked his fingers behind my leg and pulled it upward. As his tongue slipped
carefully over the roof of my mouth, he tugged my leg around his waist and
placed the weight of his upper body on top of mine.

With a subtle, easy movement his thigh glided between my
legs and the warmth of his flesh, even through clothing, caused my hips to jolt
in search of a more satisfying contact.

With a noisy unclasping of wet mouths, he tenderly released
his lips from mine and took several deep breaths. “You’re so beautiful,” he
quietly said, his dangerously dark eyes staring intently at my face.

Even if my brain had been capable of coherent thought, I
wouldn’t have known what to say in response. But with his fingers slowly
curling around to my inner thigh and edging their way higher, it was all I
could do to remember to breathe.

In the silent room, there were three sounds that would otherwise
have gone unnoticed; David’s slightly labored breathing; my irregularly
pounding heart and the soft grazing of large, masculine fingers moving over
sheer nylon.

When he reached the lace tops of my stockings, the corners
of his mouth twitched in a smile. Delicately, he traced the intricate swirling
pattern with the backs of his fingers. “Do you mind if we leave these on?” he
asked, his voice suddenly a pitch lower than it had been before.

“Of...of course,” I hoarsely responded, my eyelids flickering
as the sensation he was creating on my inner thigh became enough to make me
grip my bottom lip between my teeth. As he began to move again, creeping ever
higher, the scorching heat of his touch seemed to burn the naked flesh of my
upper thigh. It caused me to jump and he instantly withdrew his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he said, smiling warmly.

“No, no,” I quickly spoke over his apology. “Don’t stop, I
just...umm,” My chest began to move rapidly, as I got lost in his warm, gentle
eyes. “It felt good,” I eventually whispered.

His face swept closer and his eyelids drifted closed before
his lips melded to mine in a more insistent and passionate kiss. It was as if
he’d gained in confidence, and as his tongue entwined with mine, his fingers
resumed their journey up my inner thigh.

My brain could not keep up with what was happening or, more
importantly, with the reactions my body was having to his actions. As the tip
of his fingers reached the crease of my groin, and my hips bucked in response,
I realized I no longer had any control.

He slipped his finger to the edge of my panties, and
carefully worked his way beneath the lacy, black fabric.

Whimpering, I automatically opened my legs wider, as the
soft pads of two fingers massaged the freshly waxed flesh of my outer lips.

Lifting his face from mine, David’s eyes sparkled.
“Arianna,” he tenderly said, as he drew his fingers between my folds and found
me damp. “You feel so good.”

This was nothing like I’d expected. I’d assumed a client
would be solely interested in getting his pleasure, possibly at the expense of
an escort, but certainly with no thought for sensitivity or sensuality – the
things that were perceived as purely feminine desires.

“Oh, God,” he groaned, his index finger circling the rim of
my entrance.

My back arched and my mouth fell open with a quiet sigh of
need, while my hands gripped him more tightly. Only Paul had ever touched my
sex, only Paul had ever entered me. Before that night, I’d believed that the
touch of any other man would feel wholly wrong; that my body would reject the
prospect and the whole ordeal would be forgettable at best and painful at
worst. In fact, the reality was more exhilarating and arousing than I ever
could have imagined.

David wasn’t treating me like a cheap whore nor was he behaving
like a stranger who simply wanted to take something from me. And yet, on some
level, I still felt sluttish and rather than wanting to run from that sensation
I yearned for more.

“Arianna,” he whispered, his face coming back to mine and
light kisses being placed along my jaw. “I know you said strictly protected
sex,” he mumbled quietly, his lips tickling the top of my neck. “But how do you
feel about oral?”

My eyes opened sharply and I was abruptly pulled from the
sexy haze I’d been lounging in. Now, it seemed I was required to actually do
something. It was a harsh reminder of the fact I wasn’t there to enjoy myself.
It was work. “Umm,” I blabbered, while I tried to organize my thoughts.

“It’s just not the same with something between us,” he
continued, rising his head and peering down at me. “And not that you have any
reason to trust me, but I promise I’m safe.”

“I trust you,” I breathlessly replied, unsure why I felt so
certain I could. Nevertheless, I believed him.

“So, it’s okay?” he asked, smiling hopefully.

His index finger was still circling my sex in slow, smooth,
hypnotic motions. In that instant, I think I may have said ‘yes’ to whatever he
asked. “All right,” I nervously offered, pushing myself into a sitting
position.

Fellatio was not something I’d had much experience in. Paul
had always wanted me to deep throat him and, after a few failed attempts, he
decided he’d rather not bother with it at all. I was anxious about my ability
to pleasure a man with my mouth, it had certainly never done much for my
husband.

David, oblivious to my concerns, was also pushing himself
into a seated position. Flashing a sexy grin at me, he placed both hands on my
legs and lifted himself between them. “Just relax,” he softly instructed, his
hands smoothing up my thighs and pushing my dress up with them. Carefully, he
placed his thumbs in the elastic of my underwear and began to edge it off my
hips.

“I...” I mumbled. “I thought you meant,” I added, fumbling
gracelessly with my words.

“Oh,” he chuckled, sliding my panties over my knees and
smoothing them all the way to my ankles. “This is okay, right?” he added,
carefully lifting one of my stilletoed feet and tugging my underwear completely
from me.

“Whatever you want,” I nodded, as my panties were removed
from my opposite foot and tossed on the bed by his side.

His large hands returning to my waist, he encouraged me to
lie back, while inching the dress just a little higher still.

I settled anxiously onto the mattress, my eyes not daring to
look down at what he was doing. I was completely exposed to his hungry gaze;
his silence and lack of movement as he seemed to carefully take in every detail
of me, was unnerving.

However, eventually, he did move. Lifting one of my legs, he
placed the knee on his shoulder, before shuffling closer to me. Turning his
head to the side, he brushed his lips across the naked skin at the top of my
stockings, creating sparks of electricity that shot up to the juncture of my
thighs. He kissed his way steadily higher until, as if in slow motion, his
tongue began to push its way between my plump folds.

“Ohh,” I moaned, my voice shaking and body convulsing
slightly.

David responded with a rapid lick upward to my clit. It was
so sensitive that the touch of his tongue made me feel as though I had been
electrocuted and I shuddered beneath him. With a soft grunt, he drew lazy
circles across my tight bud, surprising me when he suddenly slipped the tip of
one finger inside my entrance.

“God,” I yelped, unable to prevent the reflex to buck my
hips.

It might have been no more than my imagination, but I was
sure I could feel his lips smiling, as he gradually lapped more feverishly at
my clitoris. Desperately, my hands darted down to his head and ran restlessly
across his scalp. I had never experienced anything quite so intense in my life.
I could feel the heat flushing my face, as I panted shallow breathes and
exhaled weak groans and mutters of pleasure.

As he mixed up the rhythm and movement of his tongue,
drawing long strokes rather than focusing solely on my tiny bud of nerve
endings, he pushed his finger a little deeper. With a slight curve of his finger,
he began rubbing at the front wall of my passage, causing yet more strong
quakes of ecstasy to rock me.

I watched the top of his head as he slowly made his way back
to my clit and began to move in strong, purposeful jerks. As his smooth, skillful
tongue strummed at my engorged flesh, his finger rubbed harder and faster at
the spongy skin inside my sex.

The ascent was quick; the heat inside me rocketed and my
head span violently. When I felt that I was about to explode, I sucked in a
deep breath and held it firmly in my lungs. My trembling limbs suddenly locked
tight, my thighs clamped around David’s head, my fingers seized around handfuls
of hair. As the molten pleasure sent warmth spilling through my body, my mouth
fell open and I could not hold back the screeches of sheer joy. Meanwhile, my
hips swayed, pressing more firmly against his mouth in an attempt to make the
feeling last forever.

But it didn’t last forever. All too quickly, the feeling
seeped to my extremities and dissipated through the tips of my fingers and
toes. With that came a relaxing of the spasms that had claimed every inch of me
and I finally released him. My head dropping back onto the bed, I gasped for
air.

I was unaware of David slowly rising from his position
between my legs and drawing his upper body level with mine. “You taste
incredible,” he hummed, his lips close to my face.

Sluggishly opening my eyes, I found his features hanging a
couple of inches over mine. His lips and the skin around them were moist and
shiny from my arousal; his hair was mussed from where I’d viciously grabbed it
and the sides of his face were a little red from my impersonation of a boa
constrictor.

“Oh,” I muttered, my post-orgasm vision taking a while to
focus. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” he dismissed quickly. “It was a genuine
reaction,” he added. “I love that.”

“Well,” I quietly hedged, my eyes leaving his and drifting
to his mouth. “You’re very good,” I whispered, unsure whether I’d said the
words aloud or if they’d remained in my head.

He laughed a little self-effacingly, his lower half gently
pressing against mine. “I don’t know about that,” he mumbled. “But you’re
incredibly responsive.”

I felt my eyebrows creep upward, as the swell of his groin
suddenly made itself known against my inner thigh. I’d guessed he must have
been aroused, but not having noticed the evidence of it, the suddenness of his
shockingly hard member caught me by surprise.

“I want you,” he whispered.

“I’m all yours,” I replied breathlessly.

He lunged his head forward, claiming my mouth in a kiss that
now tasted of both him and me. It was brief, but spoke of the heights of his
desire. Quickly, he was pushing himself up, his hands already unfastening his
shirt.

I followed him, sitting up and grabbing the bottom of his
shirt. I rapidly unclasped some of the lower buttons, my shaky fingers meeting
him somewhere in the middle. We both giggled as we fought over the last fastener.
He won, making short work of the final button and peeling the white, crisp
shirt off his shoulders.

He was very well built, with chiseled chest muscles and
washboard abs. Unlike Paul, David had a neat pattern of dark hair that began at
his collarbone and spread across his broad chest muscles. At his abdomen, a
strip of finer hair drew a line between his abs and disappeared beneath the
waistband of his pants.

As I realized I was staring at the incredibly sculptured,
masculine torso before me, another revelation hit me. I’d always believed I
preferred a smooth, hairless chest, but there was something so rugged and
masculine about David’s torso. Something a little feral; animalistic and
unspeakably sexy.

When my eyes finally made it back to his face, I found him
smiling at me. “Will I do?” he asked, with a great deal of humor and just a
small degree of nervousness in his tone.

“Oh, yeah,” I grinned. “You’ll definitely do,” I added, my
hands reaching for his belt buckle and beginning to wrench it open.

Carefully, he took hold of my wrists, stilling my hands
before peeling them away from him. When I followed his silent instructions, he
gradually released me and in response to my confused and startled expression,
he reached both arms around my back. With the finger and thumb of his right
hand, he took hold of the tiny zipper at the back of my dress and leisurely
pulled it down. As the bodice began to slacken, he used his left hand to coax
the strap off my shoulder. As he did, he dipped his head forward and kissed the
small piece of skin it had once covered.

I shrugged out of the opposite side, causing the front of my
dress to fall in a puddle at my middle. The tiny straps had meant I’d had to
forgo a bra and my breasts were now naked to his scrutiny. His eyes actually
moved steadily between my bosom and my face, locking on the latter as he cupped
one hand to each breast.