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This is the short story that inspired a novel. Hot in Aruba (coming Summer 2017) is based on these incredible characters and the story of how they really came together:
I stomped through the snow, taking a quick right into the café, and was immediately enveloped in the comforting aromas of dark-roasted coffee and freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies.
From the large, floor-to-ceiling windows facing the street, the customers would have had quite a show—a flight of clothing plunging to the sidewalk and a half-naked man creeping around to retrieve them. I hoped the bastard’s ass got frostbite.
“Hey, Samantha.” Carlos placed a large mug on the counter. “One whole-fat, extra-whip caramel latte with double drizzle and a cookie coming up.”
I held up two fingers as I walked past the register. One cookie just wasn’t going to cut it today.
Dodging plush, leather chairs and walnut-stained bistro sets, I snuck to the very back of the long narrow space and staked out my corner table. Carlos dropped off my order a moment later.
“Thanks,” I said, inhaling the sweet caramel scent of my coffee.
“So, what happened?” Carlos asked, grabbing the chair opposite.
“The prick’s married.” I trailed my finger around the rim of the mug, scooping up a heathy serving of whipped cream. I closed my eyes and sucked my finger clean, savouring the richness peppered with a touch of cinnamon.
I set the mug down. “Decided to tell me that right after he came. Bastard didn’t even have the courtesy to wait until I got off first.”
“Were you going to?”
“No, but that’s not the point.” Carlos knew all about my orgasm woes. I swore I was one of those women whose clits were a mile away from their vaginas.
I hung my head in my hands. “Why do I always pick the losers?”
“You don’t have a great track record.”
“How long have we known each other? Five years?”
“Exactly. Forever. When have I ever met a nice guy?”
He leaned back in his chair. “You wouldn’t know a nice guy if he was sitting right in front of you.”
I shook my head. “I’m serious. It’s the same thing over and over again. Why can’t I learn?”
“I suspect it has to do with the type of guy you’re drawn to.”
“I do like ‘em big and bad; that’s true.”
I tilted my head. “I’m stupid?”
“No, they’re stupid. You need a guy who can appreciate you, treat you like a princess, give you what you deserve. Not these uneducated oafs you keep hooking up with.”
“And where might I find one of these mythical creatures?”
“What about me?”
I looked at his deadpan expression and laughed. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I.”
I furrowed my eyebrows at him.
“Why not? We’ve known each other forever; we get along great. I’ll have a good job once I finish school.”
“Because we’re friends.”
“I’m asking for one night to prove I can be more.”
He was average height and lean—a fraction of the size of the guys I normally dated—but very handsome. His mother was Spanish; his father Italian. He had dark chocolate eyes, thick black hair, and a smile as genuine and big as his heart. I pursed my lips. Tempting, but it was Carlos.
“Let me take you out tonight. Just give me a chance.”
We’d been through this before, but after my shitty day, I could really use a break. Maybe a change of scenery would do me some good. “Alright.”
“Alright?” His eyes widened, his smile brilliant.
“You’ve got one night.”
Carlos convinced a co-worker to cover the last of his shift and picked me up promptly at six. First item on the agenda was dinner, followed by an evening of skiing.
Dinner was a formal affair, and he wore a fitted suit that hugged his body like silk over caramel. I wore a little black dress that plunged deep in the front and dipped low in back. The hem barely reached mid-thigh. I completed the look with sky-high heels and a light dusting of make-up, curling my hair to fall in blonde waves over one shoulder.
The restaurant looked out over the brightly lit ski hills, the fresh powder sparkling like diamonds on the slopes. Both of us admired the view, though neither of us looked beyond our table.
“How’s school?” I asked, stabbing a roasted potato before popping it whole in my mouth.
He shrugged. “Grueling.”
I didn’t know how he did it. He was in his final semester. After this he would write the bar.
“How about you?” he asked.
I felt awkward and a little self-conscious speaking about my goals. I worked part time at a local hospital as an ER clerk, taking registrations, listening to people complain about wait times and poor service as if it were a hotel lobby. I’d been trying for the past six years to complete my human resources training. I was two courses away from walking away with the papers. “Fine. It’s really not that difficult.”
He laughed, his hand covering his mouth to keep from spraying food at me.
He sniggered. “You look like a chipmunk with your cheeks puffed out like that.”
I was in the middle of chewing a particularly large piece of steak when he’d asked the question. With nowhere for it all to go, I had merely pushed it out to the sides to answer. I finished chewing, swallowed, and glared at him. “FYI, it is never a compliment to compare a woman to a rodent.”
He snorted. “But they’re cute.”
“You think I’m cute?” I don’t know why I went fishing for it, and I certainly don’t know why I held my breath, awaiting his answer.
“Sei la donna più bella che abbia mai visto.” He rested his elbows on the table, leaning closer. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
His voice—the smooth, velvety way the words poured over his tongue and landed light and sensual on my skin—sent shivers down my spine. The way he was looking at me, like he wanted to devour me instead of his dinner, was, I had to admit, rather heady.
I took a sip of wine in an effort to cool my errant thoughts and tame the windstorm of butterflies in my stomach, reminding myself sternly that it was Carlos in front of me.
Whether he sensed weakness or not, to his credit, he didn’t try to wedge apart the chink in my armour. Instead he kept the conversation light, buoyed by his sharp wit and cheesy sense of humour. By the end of dinner, I was relaxed and comfortable, the two of us easily slipping into a rhythm we had honed for years.
After a squabble over the cheque, Carlos snatched it from my hand and paid the waiter. Reprehensible, he’d said when I suggested a woman was quite capable of paying her way. In fairness, I didn’t put a lot of effort into trying to stop him, and by the time he held the restaurant door open for me, I found myself rather enjoying his chivalry.
The restaurant led into the chalet, and we disappeared into our respective locker rooms. We emerged transformed, with hats, mitts, scarves, and coats, Carlos with the added protection of goggles and snow pants.
“Is that all you’re wearing?” he asked.
I looked down. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s freezing outside. Where’s your snow pants?”
“I can’t wear snow pants.”
“Because they’d make my ass look big.”
I merely stared at him. “I am wearing long johns.”
“Under your jeans.” He shook his head.
I folded my arms across my chest. “I put a lot of effort into my attire. My coat matches my skis.” It did too. My coat was a lovely bright jade green, and the skis were purple, black and white, with highlights of green streaking through it all.
He laughed. “Well, your ass will be frozen, but it will look good.” He held out his arm. “Shall we?”
I wrapped my arm in his and let him lead me outside, leaning my body against him. When we reached our skis, he pulled away, and I found myself disappointed it was such a short walk.
Only an hour later, the skiing ended just as abruptly. In fairness, I put in a solid effort, but Carlos was right. After five runs, I couldn’t feel my thighs anymore and gave up the attempt, retreating to the clubhouse, seeking heat and succor. I found it by the fireplace with a generous glass of red wine. A bottle later, we retrieved our bathing suits and headed straight for the sauna.
I lay down on the top tier and melted into the heat, sighing in repletion.
He sat on a lower bench, leaning against the wall.
After several minutes of comfortable silence, in which I found myself starting to doze off, his soft voice refocused my attention, and I stretched, stifling a yawn.
“I made a rolling stop at a stop sign today,” he said. “And at one point, I was even driving over the speed limit.”
I looked at him, the dry air pressing against my eyes. “Is this you trying to be bad?”
“Is it working?”
I giggled. “No. Not even a little.”
“You know,” he said, getting up and sitting on the top bench. “There are lots of ways to be bad.” He took one of my feet in his hands and rubbed his knuckles along the sole before digging his thumbs into the yielding flesh.
“Carlos, you don’t have a bad bone in your body, but that’s why I adore you.” My feet melted in his capable hands. “We wouldn’t be friends if you treated me like the rest of those assholes.”
“Yes, but you only date assholes.”
I sniggered. “A shortcoming I plan to address.”
His hands moved slowly up my leg, kneading my calf, deftly and subtly approaching my thigh. “I know a great guy who might fit the bill.”
I smiled, well aware of his ploy, and kicked my leg free of his snare. He pouted, and his fingers trailed the length of my leg as he slid down to the lower bench. He stood, swaying a little. “I think I’ve had enough heat. Ready to go?”
He laughed and opened the door for me to walk through. “Wimps give up and run from a challenge.” He looked me straight in the eye, stepping a little closer until I could smell the soft citrus and musk of his cologne. I resisted the urge to lean forward and breathe him in.
“I never back away from a challenge.” He winked and headed off to the men’s change rooms.
I watched him go, eying his back, which was tapered from shoulders to waist, strong and muscular. I also hadn’t failed to appreciate the six-pack that graced his abs. I tried to remind myself that we were just friends, but this bold, playful side of Carlos was alluring.
After all the missteps I’d taken with men, I was reluctant to invite him back to my place, but I didn’t want the night to end, either. We compromised with the promise of more wine and some of the café’s decadent chocolate-chip cookies, both of which awaited us in Carlos’s apartment.
I sat on a cream leather couch while he lit several candles, placing them around the gas fireplace. A generous gift from his affluent parents, the open-concept loft perched high on the thirty-second floor, the living space looking out over a city reduced to a million lights twinkling in the distance.
He filled two glasses with wine, handed me one, and set the bottle on the floor beside a plateful of cookies.
I grabbed one of the golden treats and nibbled at the dark, crisp edges, leaving the middle for last.
A white, bearskin rug stretched out in front of the fireplace, and Carlos reclined on its plush shag surface, propped up on an elbow. Not missing a thing, he’d pressed a button and set soft jazz playing through the speaker system.
There was space for two on that rug, and I wondered idly what would happen if I joined him. All the wine I’d drunk was making me a little bolder. The night had been fun. I enjoyed spending time with him. But that’s what friends do, enjoy their time together. That’s what made them such good friends.
I frowned. Friendship, however, had nothing to do with the way I was looking at him now, like he was an Italian delicacy that I needed to taste, nip, and savour.
“A penny for your thoughts?”
I nearly choked on my wine. “I think we need a change in music.”
He stood up and fiddled with the iPod docked in the stereo. After the sauna we’d both changed into something more comfortable, and he looked delicious in his tight jeans and black T-shirt, his hair curling at the base of his neck. I wondered what those curls would feel like if I ran my fingers through them.
A low, sultry sax crooned in the background, and he started swaying his hips. God help me. The man could move.
“Dance with me.”
I cleared my throat. “To this?”
The singer, a woman with a lusty set of lungs, infused sex appeal in each word. Being foreign, the lyrics were beyond me, but the effect was captivating.
“Of course.” He held out his hand.
Without consulting my head, my legs lifted me off the couch and carried me into his arms. We moved slowly, our hips swinging in time to the music. His hands stayed chastely on my waist, and I found myself wishing they would explore a little. He began to sing. His deep voice and the exotic words purling from his lips lit fire to a passion I didn’t know I could feel.
His hand moved to my face, brushing my cheek, and trailed down my neck. He murmured something in Italian, and my insides quivered.
I moaned—a little—but it was there.
His eyes locked with mine.
I wanted to steal the moment back, but he didn’t give me a chance. His lips found mine, and my body melted against him.
I wrapped my hands around his neck, our kiss ardent. My tongue brushed against his, drinking in the taste of wine and chocolate. He guided me backward until we were standing on the rug. Lifting his T-shirt over his head, he tossed it on to the couch, and my eager hands explored and traced the chiselled relief of his muscles.
He removed most of my clothing, leaving on my matching black lace bra and panties, an ensemble I had picked out, just in case. Clearly, part of my mind had already jumped on board the Carlos bandwagon.
I lay down on the rug, and he sat back on his knees, admiring me. “I have wanted you for so long. Envisioned this moment.”
I blushed. “And?”
His smile was rakish and hot. “I always knew you would be delectable, but even my imagination couldn’t do you enough justice.”
I melted with his praise. “I’m glad you like what you see.”
His finger traced the lace edge of my panties. “I’d like to see more.”
I shook my head. “Not until you lose the pants. Unfair advantage.”
He undid the belt, then the button, then slowly slid the zipper down. I moistened my lips.
Bringing his hands to his hips, he took his time hitching his jeans lower, grabbing the waistband of his black boxers in the process. I was practically jumping out of my skin to help him move those hands a little faster. He stood and turned so his backside faced me. He looked over his shoulder, holding my transfixed stare as he dropped his garments to the floor. His ass was tight, dimpled. Damn. He stepped out of his clothes and smirked.
I was more than ready. I sat up, my legs curled beneath me. “Lay it on me.”
He turned around.
“Oh. My.” He was packing a lethal weapon. My mouth dropped. I’d had no idea. I looked from his cock to his cocky smirk.
“Like what you see?”
I swallowed to wet my suddenly very dry throat. “Carlos, you’re …”
“Eager to please.” He knelt in front of me and swept the shoulder straps of my bra down one arm, then the other. His lips found my collarbone, while his hands unclasped the hooks binding my breasts and inhibiting his exploration. With the bra added to the pile of discarded clothing, his mouth honoured each receptive peak, his tongue circling each hardened nipple.
His hands inched down my sides, stroking my ribs, my waist, and my hips, stopping when his fingers hooked inside my panties. I scooted back on my elbows, letting him slide them off. With a spin and a flourish they landed neatly beside my bra.
Parting my knees, he dipped between my legs, kissing the soft quivering flesh of my belly. Blunt nails traced circles on the inside of my thighs, his attentions getting broader, sweeping and brushing until lips and fingers met in a crash of sensation.
My breath hitched, and my arms tightened. I latched onto the carpet and grabbed handfuls of fake fur.
His fingers moved ever so slowly. His tongue lapped and teased. Passion burned, searing my skin as the heat from his touch raged higher. I could feel the climax building, but that wasn’t possible. I’d never had an orgasm with a man—by myself, yes—but …
His pace was punishing, his rhythm determined, the pressure an exquisite torture. My hips arched to meet his efforts. I was going to …
“Oh. My. God.” My body soared, riding a wave all its own, ignoring my head completely. My arms trembled, and I dropped to the rug, tangling my fingers in his beautiful hair.
He didn’t stop—he kept building and I kept riding. I gave myself up to the moment, crashing and shattering, my body bucking beneath him as I came. His grip tightened on my backside, taking me in.
He sat up and smiled, his lips moist and swollen, his eyes heavy with desire. That had never, ever happened before. He knew it too.
He kissed each nipple, sending shock waves of pleasure through my body. “You need a man who knows how to satisfy you.”
I couldn’t imagine arguing.
He rummaged in his jeans for a condom, taking the time to ensure a proper fit before sliding inside me.
My response was a throaty moan, the sensation almost too much to bear as he thrust deeply, expanding my perceptions of love, friendship, and trust.
His hands cupped my breasts, my nipples tightening under the persistent attention from his thumbs. His pelvis rocked and pressed, rubbing and grinding until there was no part of me that didn’t feel him, no part of me that didn’t want him. I held on for dear life as the next wave of pleasure climbed. I no longer knew what was possible. I had no reference for a moment like this.
“Please,” I begged.
“I’ve got you, Samantha. Let it go, mio amore.”
He held my soul, and with one final thrust, we crashed together, breaking through past boundaries into new experiences.
He rolled onto his back, pulling me on top of him as we lay catching our breath. I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady tattoo of his heart. I didn’t know what to call this new … whatever it was we had; I just knew I never wanted it to end.
Sexy new series by Marissa Campbell
Each story will feature a new client coming to Pleasure Incorporated in the hopes of having their sexual fantasies come true.
Pleasure Inc., delivers on its promises.
Stephanie and Stephen
DISCLAIMER: Remember this is a first draft, hot-off-the-press, unedited version. Enjoy the ride.
“Good afternoon, Stephanie. Is it all right that I call you that? Thank you for coming.”
“Stephanie is fine.” I fidgeted in my chair and smoothed down my skirt for the millionth time. Mrs. Murphy looked respectable in Dolce and Gabbana, dark-framed glasses and a tailored pant suit, her long brunette hair pulled back in a bun. Why on earth was I here?
“Try not to be nervous,” she said.
“I’m sorry. I’ve just never done anything like this before.”
She clasped her hands over the manila file folder with my name written on it. “We are a service of firsts.” Her smile was warm.
The space resembled any other commercial building: lots of glass and greys. Mrs. Murphy’s office looked out over the city, revealing people as specks of dust and trucks as dinky cars. I glanced at a door off to the left and behind her desk. Was that where everything happened?
“We have a private location for our encounters.”
Her uncanny ability to read my mind caused sweat to drip between my breasts.
“I thought you’d like to know, I’ve assigned one of our finest personal attendants to oversee your experience with us.”
“Oh.” I couldn’t manage more than that.
“Would you like to see his picture?”
That piqued my interest. I didn’t know if I’d get to find out anything about him before our… well, our date. I grimaced. Date sounded innocent. This was anything but. I’d come to Pleasure Incorporated for very non innocent longings. It was a secret club of sorts. They didn’t advertise, and only referrals from previous clientele earned you an interview with Mrs. Murphy. My girlfriend Amy was the one who told me about them. I couldn’t believe she’d done something like this. Now, I couldn’t believe I was considering doing something like this. Hell, I’d already committed to it, signed the confidentiality contract and everything. Paid the fees in full.
I leaned forward in the chair as she slid an 8×10 glossy my way. I turned it over and whistled. He was beautiful—strong jaw, dimples, shoulder-length dark brown hair, warm eyes, and the body of an Adonis. I swallowed and handed back the photo. I left clammy finger prints on the edges of the film.
She placed a standard white letter envelope on the desk. “Inside is the private location for your meeting tonight. You will need the card key to enter the building and your room. You are to meet Stephen in the lobby at 5:00pm. On your questionnaire, you mentioned wine would be a welcome addition. You will enjoy a quiet dinner together first, get to know one another a little bit. The conversation will help to put you at ease and open you up to the events of the evening. All the details are outlined in the enclosed letter.”
I dropped my head in my hands.
“There is no need to be embarrassed. Stephen has been briefed and is more than qualified to meet your needs.”
Her chair rolled back. I looked up to find her standing, hand outstretched. I followed suit.
Her handshake was firm. “It’s our policy to ensure all aspects of your fantasy are met with the utmost respect and professionalism. But I can assure you. You will enjoy yourself tremendously. Stephen will take good care of you.”
My grip on the envelope caused the paper to roll over the firm plastic card inside. I stared at the flashing numbers as the elevator descended. I couldn’t believe I was about to do this. I should kill Amy for suggesting this. My biggest sexual woe was that I’d never had an orgasm with another person. It’s not like it was the end of the world. I’m sure I would have had one eventually. Perhaps when I met the right guy and felt comfortable in his arms. Amy thought my ‘problem’ was sexual heresy and that I needed a ‘good, hard’ reckoning. This insane situation was her solution.
I passed a lobby full of people going on about their day, flustered that at any moment one of them would look at me and know what I was about to do. Do they even know what the company on the thirty-third floor did? P. Incorporated was all it said on the huge information board behind the security desk. I shuffled down the sidewalk and ducked inside my car. The meter was flashing, but there was no ticket. Thank God. How would I explain that one?
I opened the envelope and pulled out the card. I scooted forward and tucked it in my back jean’s pocket. I unfolded the letter and scanned the pertinent details. My room was ready immediately, and the Pleasure Motel was located an hour northeast from downtown. The letterhead called the place the Country House, but the sleazy label wrapped itself around my mind and held on. I programmed the address into my GPS and headed toward the highway. I’d packed my bag yesterday but brought way too much stuff. What on earth does one bring or wear to a sexual escapade? I suspected other than making sure my breath was minty fresh with toothpaste, there was very little I’d use in my overnight bag. I’d bought some sexy lingerie, but the more I dwelled on it, the more ridiculous the purchase seemed. Would he just throw me down? Would he rip off all my clothes? I wiped a hand across my face. This was such a bad idea. I picked up my phone and dialed into the Bluetooth.
“Hello?” Amy’s voice echoed on the other end. She must be driving too.
“This is such a bad idea,” I said.
“Nonsense. This is a step forward for all women kind. You can’t have your girl bits all shrivelled and lifeless like that. She needs to be set free and soar.”
“It’s not an eagle, for fuck’s sake; it’s a pussy, and cats can’t fly.” I took the off ramp and veered north.
“Only because your canary hasn’t learned to sing.”
I snorted. “This is the most ridiculous conversation I’ve ever had with you. And that’s saying a lot.”
“Steph. Trust me. By tomorrow morning, your world outlook will have changed. You won’t be the girl afraid you’ll never come. You’ll know it can happen, and you’ll revel in the feeling and the experience. Who have they hooked you up with?”
I didn’t bother pointing out how tawdry ‘hooked up’ sounded. “His name is Stephen. Looks like a Greek god.”
“I had a guy named Paul. Blond and tall as fuck.”
Amy had her encounter last year. I only learned about it a few months ago. As her best friend, I gave her a serious brow beating for the secrecy. She redeemed herself (according to her) by talking me into trying an experience myself.
The company only took on one client a week, which didn’t make any sense to me. If the demand was there, why delay? I’d had to wait over two months before I received my appointment. As much as I wanted to know the reason behind the wait, I didn’t ask. The less I knew about this organization the better. I wasn’t even sure it was legal.
I shuddered and pushed the thought from my mind. As soon as I made the clandestine call to the agency, I was sent lots of paper work to fill out, including a manifesto of past sexual experiences and health history. The company’s mission statement and policies were well laid out in the welcome package, including the rigorous screening and medical standards mandated for their personal attendants. At least I could be confident Stephen was clean.
“I have no idea how I let you talk me into this.” I still had a long drive ahead of me, but the green spaces were opening up now, and the concrete jungle was slowly giving way to real trees.
“Because you’re repressed and you need a good lay.”
“Do you have all your condoms?” she asked.
“Yes, Mom, though Mrs. Murphy said they take care of all that.”
“Yeah, she told me that too. I still brought some just in case.”
“Some?” I laughed.
“I had twenty-four hours. I planned on using as many as I could before the clock ran out.”
I heard Amy’s car ding, and she switched to her handheld. “I have to go, babe, but seriously, you need this. Try to let go of the crap in your past. Not all guys are demons.”
“Good. Then go out there tonight and have some fun. Leave stuffy, overthinking Steph in the city. Let the wild child out. You know, the one that goes out drinking and dancing with me. Bring her to the party. Let her loose on Stephen and leave nail marks on the guy’s back.”
I laughed. “I’ll do my best.”
“Atta girl. Have fun, sweetie. Love ya.”
“Love you too, girl.”
She rung off, and my speakers clicked back onto the radio. I turned up the volume and sang, blocking out my objections and doubts. I didn’t let them out of the bag again until I pulled up the long, winding drive that stopped in front of a colonial mansion. Columns, shutters, and trim in white and plaster exterior walls in a soft, welcoming yellow greeted me, as did the gentleman who waited to take my keys and whisk my car away. A bellhop retrieved my luggage and carried it up the front steps.
He waited at the entranceway. “You will need to use your card, Madame.”
“I’m sorry, of course.” I rummaged through my pockets. I wiped my palms on my jeans and tried fishing the plastic out. “Sorry. I’m just nervous.”
“It is all right.”
I studied him out of the corner of my eye. He was handsome and young, and very clearly not from around here. His accent betokened a café by a lazy river, or wine alongside a wicker picnic basket in a flower-filled meadow.
I swiped the card. The light flashed red and the door wouldn’t budge.
“Try again,” he said. “Slowly.”
I just wanted to get the hell inside and hide in my room. I gave the card key another shot. This time, I heard the click, and my friend opened the door for me. “Après vous.”
“Thank you.” I crossed the threshold and took a moment to appreciate the dark-stained hardwood flooring and grand staircase before me. We were in a wide atrium and there were two rooms, one on either side of the foyer.
“To the left is the main sitting area. Feel free to bring a book here to read. The light is very good from the large windows.”
I poked my head in to have a look. Floor to ceiling bookshelves ensconced a large stone fireplace.
“To your right is the music room. Do you play?”
A Yamaha ebony grand piano commanded focus. “No.”
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “This is the main lobby area. You will meet your personal attendant here at the appropriate time.”
There was a pair of wing back chairs tucked into the curve of the stairwell. I nodded.
He proceeded up the steps, turned right at the landing, and ambled down the long hallway. We passed several doors before stopping at one with the label, Master Suite, in gold font etched in the dark wood. I retrieved the card key again and swiped it in the metal lock. The light flashed green, and my porter opened the door, motioning me inside. I took a moment to process the room while he placed my belongings on a fold out luggage rack.
“Will that be all, Madame?”
I blinked. “Yes, thank you.”
I started to dig in my pockets but he held up his hand. “We do not accept tips. Enjoy your stay.” He bowed slightly and closed the door behind him.
The room was opulent. A large sitting area with couch, wingback chairs, a coffee table, and television sunk two steps down off the main entrance way. A kitchenette with granite countertops, and a large sunroom that opened to a patio with lounge chairs and a hot tub stretched before me. I followed the stone tile floor into the bathroom. The tub could fit three people. A stand up shower, built for two with a rock ledge for sitting, gleamed behind glass doors. The bedroom had a four poster bed, two elegant upholstered chairs, and two wide-paddled ceiling fans. The room looked like it should overlook the ocean. After taking one lingering look at the bed, I hightailed it back out to the sitting room. I checked my watch. I had an hour before I was to meet Stephen. I couldn’t fathom what I was supposed to do with myself for that length of time. I had enough pent up energy to win a marathon, but I couldn’t manage a run, a shower, and still have time to get ready before five. I’d showered before I left home, so it would take me a half hour at most to sachet out the door in time. I opened my bag and laid out my supplies. I could curl my hair. That would take a good twenty minutes in and of itself. Satisfied that I had something to do rather than dwell on what was about to go down, I set to work.
By the time five o’clock rolled around, I had changed into a black dress that dipped low in the back, crept down the front, and swooped around my neck. I paired it with some sky-high heels and my blonde curls. I touched up my make-up, applying mascara and lipstick for that extra oomph and grabbed my small clutch, double checking that the card key was tucked safely inside, along with my compact, lipstick, and a condom. I took a gulping breath and clicked the door shut behind me.
I stopped at the top of the landing. There at the bottom of the steps, with his back toward me was Stephen. His hair hung in soft waves just below his shoulders, and he filled out every inch of the tailored fabric in that black suit. He had his hands in his pant pockets and exuded a casual, sensual confidence. In opposition, my knees knocked. I gripped the railing for support.
He must have heard my awkward descent because he turned around and smiled. I almost ran back into my room and locked the door. No man can be that beautiful. I shouldn’t be here.
He bounded up the stairs, cutting off my escape. “Stephanie.”
The word purled off his tongue and rippled over my skin. I swallowed. “You must be Stephen.”
He lifted my hand to his lips. They were incredibly soft. He must use a lot of Chapstick.
“It’s wonderful to finally meet you. Come.” He held out his arm, and I threaded mine though his. He locked it tight to his side. “They have a sumptuous meal waiting for us in the dining room.”
He led me down a wing off to the left of the lobby, stopping at a beautiful room with a teak dining table, ornamented with fine crystal and china. He held out a chair. “Please.”
I sat down, and he tucked me closer to the table. He lifted an amber bottle from the ice bucket. “Would you like some—”
“Yes.” I finished for him.
He smiled and poured us each a glass before sitting down beside me.
I took a small sip. “Lovely.”
“I’m glad you approve.”
“The wine is nice too.” I was going for confident and sexy, but it came out like a croak.
“You’re very beautiful when you blush.”
I covered my face with my hands. He pried them away and held them tight. “I’m looking forward to seeing that happen a lot this evening.”
I may have squeaked.
He laughed, a deep, melted chocolate sound that poured over me, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Tell me about yourself,” he said.
“Didn’t you read up on me?”
He leaned back and crossed his legs. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Oh. I um—” A waiter interrupted us with a starter salad—half an iceberg lettuce and a few bacon pieces completed the course.
“Pay no attention to them.” He waved to the young man leaving the room. “They are paid very well for their discretion and practiced incognizance of our conversation.”
I eyed the door dubiously, but figured, I’d come this far, and they all knew why I was there. I distracted myself with the food. The salad was really good. It had a thick bacon vinaigrette drizzled over top of the simple presentation.
The forms I’d filled out for Pleasure Incorporated were pretty extensive. If he did his homework, Stephen would know all about my past relationships, going as far back as the asshole who took advantage of me. He’d know I was a Public Relations Officer for a large corporation. He would have discovered I was an only child, had a middle class upbringing, liked to dance, and practiced yoga. He’d even know my favourite foods. I suspected the entree of the meal would be either pasta or steak. He’d also be keenly aware of every dirty fantasy I had. I coughed as a piece of bacon lodged in my throat.
“Are you all right?” he asked, holding out my water glass.
My eyes teared, but I held up a hand. “I’m fine,” I wheezed.
He set the glass down and presented the wine instead. “Perhaps this would work better. I know this is awkward, but I’d love to find a way to help you relax.”
I coughed some more.
He handed me a napkin. “I do like that blush, though. It suits you.”
I drank the wine—all of it—and held out my glass for more. “Enjoying yourself?” I asked when I could talk without sputtering all over him.
“Innocence is sexy. I can’t wait to corrupt you.”
On that cue, the waiter returned to clear our plates, while another brought in our main course—filet mignon with mushrooms, onions and what looked like a twice-baked potato. My mouth salivated as the plate was placed and turned to its best angle in front of me.
“This looks incredible.”
“Germaine makes a fantastic gravy. Wait till you take a bite,” he said.
For a few moments neither one of us spoke. I was too absorbed in the melding of flavors in my mouth. I may have closed my eyes.
“You were saying?” he said.
“You were about to tell me all of your deepest secrets.”
“I think you know all of mine. What about you? Who’s the man charged with seducing me tonight?”
“Seducing you? I like the sound of that.” He leaned forward and placed his hand beneath my chin. His thumb brushed my lower lip. “You had a little sauce, just there.”
My heart pounded in my chest, and I gripped the fork and knife like a vice. It had been a while since I’d been with anyone, but no one had touched me like that. A simple gesture, yet it lit wild fires inside my belly.
He sat back. “Like you, I had a typical suburban upbringing.”
“What led you here?” I wiped my mouth with the napkin in case he missed a spot, keenly aware of the tingle still buzzing along my lip.
“I had a talent, and Mrs. Murphy found me. It was a lucky break.”
“What talent?” I kept my focus firmly on cutting my steak.
“My friends called me the pussy whisperer.”
My knife stopped its carving. I wanted to come up with something other than ‘oh my God’ as a response, but anything sensible or even remotely witty left my head.
He popped a piece of steak in his mouth. The juice left a delicious sheen on his lip. If I was bold, I’d wipe it away like he’d just done to me. I pushed around the potato on my plate instead. “You must have had a lot of happy girlfriends to earn a title like that.”
“In bed, yes. Most left unsatisfied with the life I was willing to give them.”
“So you’re a lone wolf? The consummate bachelor?”
“Until I find the right woman, yes.”
“Is there a right woman?” I didn’t know why I was fishing. This was an arrangement. I was paying for a service, but the thought of maybe, even the remotest possibility that this man was looking for more and could actually find it, in someone like me was thrilling.
“You’re blushing again. I don’t think I’m going to make it through this dinner without devouring you.”
My appetite for steak took a back seat to the main course. Stephen’s fierce gaze turned my hesitations inside out, and I couldn’t imagine eating another bite.
“May I kiss you?” He stood in front of me and took my hand in his. He drew me to my feet.
“My breath. The dinner.” My free hand flew to my mouth. Where was that minty toothpaste when you needed it? “Maybe we should head back to the room first.”
“You’ll taste like wine and steak—every man’s dream.” His hand slipped around my waist, and he drew me close. His beard brushed my neck. “You smell delicious.”
I shivered. “Chanel.”
“Mmmnnn. Steak.” His lips brushed mine, and I inhaled sharply.
“Let me know if you want me to stop,” he said.
I shook my head. “I don’t want you to stop.” I sounded like a breathless teenager, but the rational, judgmental side of me was quickly taking a backseat to the very horny, extremely turned on part of me that pressed her hips unabashedly into Stephen’s groin.
“You’re safe with me. If at any point you want me to stop, you need only say ‘No,” or ‘Stop.’ Do you understand?”
“Good. Grab your clutch.”
I scooped it off the table, and he lifted me in his arms.
“Do that again, and I’ll have to kiss you.”
I bit my lower lip and threw caution to the wind. “Peep.”
His mouth was against mine so fast, I didn’t have time to focus on anything but the taste of him. Warm, soft, with just the right amount of demanding, my tongue swept forward and sought his.
He strode out of the dining room and tackled the stairs. He could have taken them two at a time, I didn’t know, I was too busy exploring the heat of that kiss and the soft curls of his hair as I threaded my fingers through them.
After a moment, I realized we’d stopped.
“Key,” he panted.
“Bag,” I answered.
He set me down, and I rummaged through the tiny purse with trembling fingers. I handed him the card, certain I’d never get it to unlock in my current state.
He swiped it effortlessly, scooped me back up, and sauntered into the room. He laid me down on the bed and stepped back. “You’re so beautiful.”
“You’re just saying that.” I tucked a curl behind my ear and sat up on the bed.
“My cock doesn’t lie.”
I looked down at the litmus test in question. “Jesus.” It was bulging out of his pocket.
He smiled. “He’s excited to finally get you alone in this bed.” He took off his jacket and laid it across one of the wing-back chairs. “Do you trust me?”
“I don’t know you.”
“Do you trust that Mrs. Murphy will have my balls if I don’t make this the most satisfying experience of your life?”
I smirked. “That I do trust.”
He walked over to the nightstand and pulled open the drawer. He retrieved a silk bag and set it on the bed. “Open it.”
I raised an eyebrow, but with an encouraging nod from Stephen, I curled my legs beneath me and grabbed the bag. It was heavy and something metal clanked inside. I loosened the draw string and emptied the contents on the duvet. A pair of handcuffs slid out along with a black silk blindfold. “Fuck.”
“This was one of your fantasies.” He trailed the back of a finger over my shoulder and down my arm. “I’m going to make you scream with pleasure. Will you permit me to restrain you?”
My heart hammered in my chest. I’d put that damning info on my ‘fantasy checklist’ from the agency. I didn’t think I’d actually be doing it. Maybe one day, but tonight? Here? Now?
He fingered the silk blindfold. “What do you think?”
My body had its own reaction. The mere sight of the props made me wet, and my pulse raced. As for my head, a whole host of thoughts were rampaging through my mind: Was I really considering this? Why the hell was I considering this? I’m going to kill Amy. Jesus he’s hot. I want to, but did I trust him? Did I trust me? This was a lot to take in.
He pulled a key out of his pocket and inserted it in the handcuffs, swinging them open and closed. He placed the key on the nightstand. “At any point you need only tell me to stop.”
“Okay.” It came out as a whisper.
“I’m so glad you said yes.” His smile weakened my knees, and I was grateful to be sitting down.
“Let’s take care of this dress.” He looped his thumb beneath the edge of the scoop neck and fingered the hem of the thin fabric, brushing the side of my breast in the process.
“Guess I didn’t need to buy that new lingerie.” I knew he was going to throw me down and rip everything off.
“I’m very interested in seeing that. Later. Right now, I’d like you completely naked.”
“Can we dim the lights?” Exposed and vulnerable were not my favorite conditions.
“And miss your incredible blush, I’d rather not. I want to see you flushed with pleasure. I want to watch you come.”
After that remark, I was fairly certain an entire rainbow of florid color tinted my cheeks. It also caused my vocal cords to stop working. I nodded, and he helped me shimmy out of the dress. My breasts bounced free, and he took a moment to palm them, rolling a thumb across the tip of my nipples. Heat coursed through my body as echoes of pleasure shimmered between my legs.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
He unclasped my heels. “I think I’d like to see these with the lingerie later.” He slung the dress over the back of a chair and placed my shoes on the floor. He slipped my panties off, twirling them around his finger before tossing them onto the seat.
I expected to feel extremely self-conscious. I was completely naked, and he was still fully clothed, but the way he looked at me made me feel powerful and sexy, and I dare say, a little bold.
He loosened his tie and flung it beside my panties. “Lay back for me.”
The satin duvet was soft and cool beneath me.
“Lift your arms above your head.”
I grabbed hold of the iron headboard. He kissed my shoulder, planting nips and caresses down my arm. Holding my gaze, he slid the handcuff around my wrist. “Ready?”
“Yes.” I had no idea what to expect this evening. Of course, I knew it would involve sex, but this was beyond my wildest imaginings. I couldn’t keep my legs from writhing a little on the bed. My stomach ached with need.
The arm swung closed and clicked. He tightened the metal until it was comfortable, but gave no measure of escape. He slipped the chain around the headboard and clasped my other wrist. The final click shot fire through my body. I inhaled sharply.
He ran his hands along the sides of my body. My eyes rolled back. “Jesus.”
His whispered words near my ear startled me. “It’s Stephen.”
I smirked. “Stephen.”
His cocky grin turned me to putty. “I like how you say that.” He nibbled my ear then reached back and scooped the blindfold off the bed. “One last detail.” The satin string trailed up my belly and between my breasts as he danced it across my skin.
My fists clenched as he lay the blindfold across my eyes.
“Can you see?” he asked, adjusting the tightness of the ties.
“Good.” His weight lifted from the bed.
I could hear him rummaging through drawers. Every sense was heightened. The smoothness of the duvet skimmed across my body as I wriggled to try and hear what he was doing. The air from the ceiling fans washed over my skin creating goosebumps, and every cell of my being had been reduced to a quivering mass of need.
“I’m here.” His voice drifted from somewhere near the end of the bed. I jumped when something cold pressed into the sole of my foot.
“That’s freezing.” I squirmed away from the onslaught creeping up my leg.
The advance never wavered, and a hand pinioned my leg. The melting path swooped up the inside of my thigh and curved over the soft mound of hair between my legs.
“You’re so hot, you melted my ice cube.” His voice was sullen, sexy.
My body collapsed after being held rigid by tension.
“Ah, but I have more.” A swirl of ice across my nipple sent the bud into a spasm of constriction, and I bucked to set it free. He straddled my waist. “Oh, no. You’re not getting away that easily.” He ran the ice cube down the sides of my ribs, and I screamed. The dripping water trickled around my back, and the shock against my blazing skin was torture.
“You are delightfully ticklish.” Blunt fingernails picked up where the ice left off, skimming the indent of my waist. I tried to kick him off.
“Do you want me to stop?” He sounded amused.
“No,” I replied with undignified panting.
His weight shifted and something soft with several tails swept over me. “This is a called a bondage whip.”
“Stephen.” This was quickly going in a direction I wasn’t ready to take it.
“I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
I couldn’t see him, couldn’t read the sincerity in his face, but I sensed it in his voice.
“Open your hand for me.”
It took a concerted effort to loosen my grip, but I did as he asked.
“I’m going to use the whip across your palm. Let me know if it hurts.”
Before I could protest, the whip snapped into my skin. I gasped, and wetness pooled between my legs.
“Did it hurt?”
“I’m going to tease your thighs. Are you ready?”
“Oh fuck.” I resumed my death grip on the headboard.
A slap crackled through the air, heightening my senses, but the impact was delicious. No pain, just skin becoming more alive.
“Good?” he asked.
A series of nips with the whip across my belly and breasts alternated with what felt like feathers. Throughout it all, as each and every inch of my skin screamed with sensation, he avoided the fire burning between my legs.
“Stephen.” I begged. “Please. I can’t take much more.”
“Oh, I think you can hold out a little longer, but I’ll reward you for your good behaviour.” Hands splayed my thighs, and his mouth pressed against me.
“You’re so fucking wet. Jesus, you taste divine.” If he was going for subtle, he seemed to lose himself in his task, and he had to hold my hips down because they were going to jerk right off the bed.
“Oh, my God.” I wanted to explode. I barely grasped reality.
“I know, baby, you’re so close. But not yet.” He left the bed, and I could hear another drawer open. Sweat pooled between my breasts, and my hair matted against my forehead. Something wild and primal had taken over, and I wanted to lose myself in its delicious chaos.
“Have you ever played with your G-spot?” he asked.
“I’ve tried, but I’m never sure if I’m doing it right.” This was humiliating.
“I love that blush.” He kissed my lips, and I devoured the silken warmth of him, my tongue lashing out to meet his. I tasted salt and sweetness. I tasted me. I’d never done that before. The thought made me heady.
He pulled away. “You are making this incredibly difficult to go slow.”
“I don’t want slow.” There. I did it. I had been reduced to whining.
He laughed. “After this orgasm, we can ramp up the pace, but this first one has to be perfect. I want you to be putty in my hands.”
More orgasms? Dear God, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it through this one! I wanted him so badly, I would have done just about anything to quench this suffocating thirst.
“Have you used a vibrator before?” A gentle hum filled my ears.
“Yes.” If he used a vibrator on me, I might literally come undone.
“Good.” He released one of my wrists, but clamped the open jaws around the headboard to keep one hand restrained. He placed the vibrator in my free hand and directed it to my clit. “I want you to hold it there. No matter what you do, do not ease up the tension. Understand?”
I couldn’t speak. I nodded.
“It may feel overwhelming, but don’t stop. Ride it out for me, all right?”
“I’ll try.” It came out as hoarse croak.
His lips caressed mine, and he held my hand against my clit as the vibrator thrummed through me. I didn’t think it was possible for my eyes to roll back any further in my head, but I might have managed.
He slid down my body, and a finger dove deep inside me. I cried out, my back arching.
His movements were slow, deliberate. He was pressing hard against my insides. My body hummed. “Hold on, Stephanie.”
“It’s too much.” I couldn’t take it. There was so much sensation.
His finger coaxed with even pressure and relentless rhythm. The vibrator slipped from my clit. He reached up and helped me find the right spot. “Right there, baby. Keep it there.”
“I can’t.” I wanted to die. I wanted to dissolve. My legs shook and spasmed.
“Yes, you can.”
Pressure made my head want to burst. Everything in my being wanted to let go, but I held back. Fear crept in and reared its ugly head.
“It’s just me, Stephanie. Let yourself go. Give in to the feeling.”
I closed my eyes tight and pushed all thought from my mind. I focused on everything my body was telling me. It wanted this. I forced my mind to take a backseat to the wild rollercoaster ride of pleasure. The climax built. My toes curled and tensed. “Stephen.”
“Now. Come for me, now, Stephanie.”
“Oh my God.” A wave of pleasure ripped through me so violently that I screamed and bucked. My eyes clamped tight, and the vibrator slipped from my hand. His mouth crashed into swollen lips and another crest blindsided me, propelling me over a precipice so high I didn’t think I could ever come down. For a moment, he merely caressed my hair.
He removed the blindfold as tremors continued to pulse through me and left the bed, returning a moment later to unclasp my hand. The handcuff slipped from my wrist and I lay there limp, shaking and incoherent. “Stephanie,” he whispered in my ear.
“Mmmhmm?” I was wrapped in a warm honey glow that I never wanted to end.
“Are you ready to do that again?”
I reached out, threaded my hand through his hair, and pulled him into me. “Definitely.”
Pamela and the Plumber
DISCLAIMER: Just a reminder this is first draft stuff. 😀 Enjoy!
Mrs. Murphy handed me the envelope. The package lacked panache. Just a plain white #10, 20lb, standard, letter-sized utilitarian vessel. One would think for a clandestine hookup, it should have been black, or slipped to me under a magazine or something.
“Thanks,” I said, tucking it in my briefcase.
“Enjoy your encounter, Pamela.” Mrs. Murphy stood, her tailored pant suit wrinkled along her thighs from sitting.
I shook her hand and left the office. As I rode the elevator to the lobby, I wondered where Pleasure Incorporated found their ‘personal attendants.’ My criteria was very specific. I wanted a blue collar guy, clean, neat, with a solid bank of muscles, and actual hair on his chest. None of this waxed pecs shit. I wanted a plumber, or at least some guy to play the part of a plumber. Perhaps, it harkened back to my days playing Luigi to my older brother’s Mario, but I had a thing for a descent ass crack. When I was about seven years old, I walked into the kitchen one morning, still in my Hello Kitty pyjamas, to discover my mom leaning against the kitchen counter puffing away on a cigarette.
Our neighbor Thomas O’Malley had his head buried under our sink, his ass presented for all to see. At the time, I didn’t understand what I had walked in on, but I could sense the electricity in the air. In a cut-off tube top and tight jeans, my mom giggled and tossed her hair. Rarely up before noon, she even had on her heels—in the kitchen, at breakfast!
I blame my childhood for my obsession with plumbers and construction workers… frankly, anyone willing to drop to their knees and get dirty.
I hadn’t been able to find a spot right outside the building and had to park in the grocery store lot across the street. I swung into the driver’s seat, tossed my briefcase onto the passenger side, and pulled out the envelope.
I skimmed for the pertinent details: the Gladrock Hotel, Aqua Suite, 7pm. The room was ready immediately, and tomorrow morning a spa appointment had been arranged as requested. Thankfully, there wasn’t any information about my special guest for the evening. I had asked them to withhold a photo. I wanted the surprise. I grew bored easily and needed the excitement and rush of new experiences. I tucked the envelope away. This was going to be fun.
Of Pleasure Inc.’s ability to fulfill my fantasies, I had no doubt. How they planned on going about them created delicious anticipation and tension. I shifted in my leather seat. My body perked up, roused and ready to play.
The Gladrock stood on a prominent crossroads in the city, its front door almost colliding with the sidewalk. The lobby paired a sleek, curved walnut check-in area with oil paintings hung around graffiti inspired walls.
With my arrival expected, I checked in and took the elevator to the fourteenth floor, room key in hand. I’d never stayed in the hotel before. The owners held events every night, and each room had its own theme. Given my plans, I would miss tonight’s Burlesque show, where they teach you how to dance. The concierge assured me it would happen again, and I had made a mental note to pop in to that one in the future.
I swiped my key card and stepped into a groovy world of sculptures meant to look like coral, and soft ripples of light undulating across a deep-blue tiled floor. I dropped the card key on a side table and left my luggage at the door.
Tucked off the left side of the main entrance, a plush white loveseat and two matching arm chairs reclined around an inviting living area. I declined the offer and padded into the bedroom.
A low, sleek king-sized bed with a solid black headboard commanded focus. I flopped onto the bed and sunk, half the mattress cresting away from me. I turned and stared in awe. An honest to God waterbed. I hadn’t seen one of those since I was a teenager. I couldn’t believe they still made them. I studied the design and narrowed my eyes. I couldn’t imagine having sex on the thing. Though, perhaps if the rhythm flowed just right. I enjoyed a good challenge.
Curious what wonders awaited me in the bathroom, I rounded a bend at the far end of the room and stopped, slack jawed. Tucked away behind a curved glass block wall, the bathroom stretched behind towering floor to ceiling windows that looked out on to the bustling cityscape beyond, a sleek white lounge chair positioned to take advantage of the view. On the back wall, a waterfall trickled between ledges of glossy black tile, tumbling into an infinity pool. A built-in alcove housed several sconces, their light flickering like candles. I dipped a forefinger into the pool. The water was luxuriously warm. I couldn’t wait to dive in.
A generous stand up shower encased in glass stood opposite the pool, and a toilet and low vanity curved along the block wall. The room exceeded my wildest expectations. I’d asked for water features. This took the cake.
I stripped off and slipped into the pool. Experimenting with several dials, I adjusting the strength and number of jets before I found a setting that would allow me to swim in one place, like a water treadmill. Eager to burn off some restless energy, I spent a good half hour fighting the current with a strong front crawl then hopped into the shower.
I pulled out a matching black lace thong and bra and paired those with a tight LBD. With more time to kill, and deciding I needed a little sustenance to keep up my stamina, I ordered some room service. By the time I’d finished eating, fixed my hair, and applied my makeup, it was 6:59pm.
The knock at the door sent a thrill through me. I liked my men punctual. I swung the door wide, revealing a tall, broad shouldered pillar of testosterone with golden eyes and a cocky grin. He filled out a pair of blue jeans, the buttons of his shirt undone showing off a chiselled chest, dusted with just the right amount of dark curly hair. Off his hips slung a tool belt, and he packed a very large wrench.
“I’m Paul, the hotel sent me to help.” He handed me a business card for Childs’ Brothers: Laying pipe day and night, as big as you need and as deep as you want.
“I understand you’re having some plumbing issues. I’d like to start with your tap,” he said and waited for me to usher him in.
“The bathroom is through the bedroom then around the corner.”
He nodded and made his way through the suite while I closed the door behind him. By the time I made it to the bathroom, he already had the vanity doors open, his flashlight shining into the dark cavity.
“This might take a while. Please, have a seat.” He motioned to the lounge chair.
I sat as instructed, placing his business card on the window ledge.
He unclasped his tool belt and set it on the floor near his feet. “It’s awfully warm in here,” he said while shrugging off his Oxford button down. The shirt landed in a heap on top of the belt.
I licked my lips. Sculpted back muscles rippled into a narrow waist, and when he bent over to have a look under the sink, his jeans slid a couple inches off his hips, affording me a delightful view of the top of his ass.
After a few minutes of poking around the drain pipe, he extricated himself and dusted his hands across his pants. “Done.” He turned on the tap. Water rushed unimpeded into the sink.
Case closed, he shut off the valve and turned to me, hands on his hips, his jeans slipping a little lower. I had the sudden urge to trail my fingernails through the tangled curls on his chest, following the indents between his pecs and washboard abs until they dropped lower, and I could help him out of those ill-fitting pants once and for all.
“I’d like to take care of your flow problem now.” He stalked over to my chair.
“My flow problem?” Those jeans were within reach.
“Yes, I’d like to make you very wet.” His grin smoldered, one side of his mouth twitching upwards.
I wanted to trap those smirking lips between my teeth. I volleyed the serve back. “It’s a serious dilemma. I’d appreciate it if you could fix it for me.”
“It would be my pleasure.” He fished his phone from his back pocked. “But first, I need to let the office know I’ll be putting in some overtime on this one.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t want you in trouble on my account.”
He finished texting his message and tucked the phone away. “Now, where were we?” He held out his hand, and I took it as he guided me out of the chair.
“I believe you were going to make me very wet.” I sidled up to him, glad to finally be getting down to business. I ran my hands up his forearms, gliding over his biceps and shoulders before threading my way into the course hair of his chest. Eager to follow the happy trail to see what kind of rigid tool awaited beneath that taunting zipper, I inched my exploration lower then froze.
Someone knocked on the door. I tried to ignore it, but the clamour continued.
“Excuse me. Don’t move.” I left my plumber, who had already been deliciously effective in getting my taps running, and answered the door.
“Good evening, Miss. I’m Rick Childs, Paul’s brother. I’m here to oversee his work.”
My mouth dropped. Dressed in an identical uniform as Paul, the only thing distinguishing the two brothers was the fact Rick stood in my doorway.
“We’re twins.” He delivered the line as a matter of fact, not something that had the potential to blow my fucking mind.
I nodded, my normal cheeky wit suddenly mute.
“Is he still in the bathroom?”
I cleared my throat. “Yes, straight through there.”
As he wandered off in search of his brother, I took stock. I’d mentioned in my questionnaire that one of my fantasies involved a threesome, but I never expected Pleasure Inc. to stack one experience on another. I remembered some of the other things I’d expressed, rather explicitly, in that survey, and my heart raced.
Rick sat on the chair, and I found Paul where I’d left him, waiting by the vanity. He ran his finger under the strap of my dress, inching the fabric down my arm. “You don’t mind if my brother watches do you? I’m almost finished my apprenticeship. This is my last test.”
I glanced at Rick, who rubbed at a considerable hard on, pressing against the fabric of his jeans. My stomach clenched, moisture flowing between my legs. At this rate, Paul would have a flood on his hands. I wondered if that would constitute a pass or fail? “Anything I can do to help.”
Like the atmosphere after a lightning storm, the air around me pulsed with electricity, my nerves firing in rapid succession, catching every inch of my body up to speed on what could potentially happen.
Paul slid both straps down my arms, tugging the dress over my breasts and hips until it pooled around my feet. Running his fingers down my thighs and calves, he knelt on the floor. He lifted one foot then the other, releasing me of the cumbersome garment. The back of his nails whisked up my foot, lingering on the ankle clasp of my shoes. “These can stay on.”
I’d spared no height restrictions with my heels and wore a killer pair of CFM stilettos.
He stood, lifting me in the process, and I squealed as he set my bare ass on the cold granite of the counter top. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Rick unzip his pants, drawing his hard cock out. He gripped the shaft, rubbing his hand up and down, his gaze never leaving mine. My head fizzed with arousal, leaving me lightheaded and aching with need.
Paul hooked his fingers around my thong and left them in a pile by my dress. “Spread your legs for me.”
I opened wide as he grabbed my ass, squeezing the cheeks hard, thrusting me forward. I had enough presence of mind to grasp the edge of the vanity before his tongue lighted on my clit. My head flung back, pressing against the mirror, as my hips arched upward.
I closed my eyes, relishing Paul’s masterful attention, delighting in the spasms pulsing through my legs as his fingers dove inside me.
“May I?” Rick’s voice, teasing beside my ear, snapped me out of my reverie. He stood completely naked beside his brother.
Paul acquiesced, letting Rick tuck between my legs.
“My brother forgot to pay these beautiful ladies some attention.” He unclasped my bra, releasing a cascade of cleavage into his waiting hands. My nipples tightened and peaked as his thumb rubbed the straining nubs. His cock twitched against my clit, his pelvis pressed tight against mine. The intimate touch caused my pussy to clench with need. I wanted that pipe in me as deep as it could go. I rocked my hips against him, easing some of the torture.
A quick look at Paul assured me he’d stripped off his jeans and underwear and had taken over residence on the lounge chair. Like his brother before him, he rocked a wicked hard on, his hand pumping. Their cocks were beautiful, not too big or wide, but smooth and ribbed with thick veins. Arousal jolted through me. I wanted them filling every inch of me. “I want you in my mouth.”
Rick lifted me off the vanity, and I stalked forward, crawling along the chair on all fours and wrapped my lips around the tip of Paul’s cock, my hand taking over where his left off.
Some girls didn’t like giving blow jobs. I could never understand why. The sound of a man’s breath hitching, the feel of their thigh muscles twitching, their hand gripping your hair… what the hell wasn’t there to love?
Rick slipped in behind me and grabbed my ass, hitching my pussy into his face. A deep vibration escaped my mouth, wrapping around and caressing Paul as Rick’s tongue stroked my clit.
Jesus fucking Christ. Everything blurred into a kaleidoscope of sensation. My mouth pumping, swallowing every rigid inch, Paul’s hands kneading my breasts, flicking and pinching my nipples, Rick’s tongue lapping at my center, his fingers slipping in and out.
Hands and mouths molded and sculpted, creating a tower of ecstasy, lifting me to the heights of passion, coiling in my spine, rocketing me to a precipice I didn’t know existed.
Rick sucked hard on my clit, and I gasped, taking Paul deeper. The heady combination sent me careening over the edge, taking me on a leap of faith, leaving me adrift in hazy euphoria, as my body pulsed with endless spasms.
From some far-flung distance, I was vaguely aware that my plumbers had switched positions, and Paul pressed the tip of his cock inside me. I moaned as sensitive flesh stretched to accommodate him. I fisted Rick’s shaft and pulled hard with my lips, milking and stroking, growling with urgency. A primal need to devour and conquer seized me. I wanted to make them cum. I wanted them to shatter inside me.
Paul drew me back, a slow torture, a cruel ploy, and I pressed my ass against him, desperate. I wanted his cock filling me, bursting me open. He met my push with a driving thrust, causing pinpricks of light to flit across my vision as an exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain coiled deep inside my pussy.
A battery of new sensations churned and boiled like an alchemist’s solution, turning my body into an ecstatic frenzy of desire and need. My mouth and hand met, over and over, sucking and pulling Rick deep into my throat, urged on by feral grunts and the rapid pulse of his breath.
Paul matched the desperate rhythm of my efforts with hard violent strokes of his own, expanding and spreading me completely,
Then, as if they were master play-makers, and the coach had given them the go ahead for their signature knock-out punch, Rick squeezed my nipples while Paul reached around and slam-dunked my clit like a goddamn rock star.
I cried out as Rick pumped his cock, gasping as he came, covering my chest with the strength of his climax. My body disintegrated, each part exploding in a blinding onslaught of light, over, and over, and over again. The orgasm ripped through me and kept me captive as Paul stiffened, his body caught in the throes of his own release as he twitched and softened within me.
When I came back to my senses, the three of us lay in a convoluted heap on the lounge chair.
Paul kissed my belly button, running his fingernails along the insides of my thighs while Rick nibbled on the curve of my neck, his stubble sending shivers racing along my skin.
“I think you passed,” I said to Paul, my body limpid and flushed with a languid glow.
Paul nipped at my hip. “That was just the preliminaries.”
Catherine and the Cowboy
Disclaimer: As always, do keep in mind, this is first draft material. It has not been edited. Enjoy. 😀
I tried to ignore the envelope in the front seat as I drove north west along the long winding country road. If it didn’t have ‘Catherine Griffin’ written in elegant script smack dab in the middle of the thing, I could have pretended it was meant for someone else. No such luck.
I mentally slapped my wrist and pulled a fingernail out from beneath gnawing teeth, salvaging what was left of my manicure. I’d wanted a ‘me’ day. Why couldn’t I book a massage or facial like normal people.
Overworked and stressed out, my latest client had wrung my emotions raw. Being a social worker had incredible moments, times when I felt I made a difference, but other days, I felt powerless, my hands tied. The job chipped away little pieces of my heart. What I needed was some time off. A break to mend the fissures.
My friend had slipped Pleasure Inc’s card across my desk, telling me to get out of town for a proper release. A wink and a sexy saunter as she walked out of my office and back to her car was the only answer I got when I’d asked what Pleasure Inc. did.
I should have known better. Pamela was a wild, sex-crazed nympho. Bless her. I smirked and shook my head at the image she’d described about opening the door to discover twin plumbers. A shiver passed through me. The stories that woman had shared. I shifted in the seat, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.
I’d left the city two hours ago, barely noticing the wide expanses of wheat, soy, and corn waving in the breeze as I flew past endless farmer’s fields, my eyes fixed on the road ahead and the GPS, which ticked off the diminishing miles like a time bomb. More than once, I’d considered turning around but curiosity and a burning desire that grew in proportion to the distance travelled kept me pushing that gas pedal to the floor.
I turned onto a narrow, paved lane, canopied by densely packed maple trees, their luscious leaves filtering the sunlight overhead, dappling the driveway in soft edges.
I wiped clammy palms on my leggings and eased my foot off the brake pedal. I’d come this far. The tree cover opened to reveal a sprawling ranch bungalow surrounded by horse paddocks and fields of emerald grass. I parked the car and was met on the front steps by a young woman, who extended her hand.
“Good afternoon, Catherine. We’ve been expecting you. I hope you had a good drive. My name is Elizabeth. I’ll be your representative here in case you need anything, or have any questions.”
I followed her inside, admiring the building’s open concept created by thick beams of dark stained wood and vaulted ceilings. The décor was rustic with country accents and white upholstered furniture. We passed a comfy sitting area.
“Feel free to use this space to relax, read a book, or watch television.” She pointed to a large pine cabinet. “The T.V. is just inside there.”
I nodded, acknowledging her fine efforts at normal conversation, but we both knew why I was there, and it wasn’t to watch Netflix.
She led me down a hallway and ushered me through a thick oak door. Curtains billowed around a colonial four poster bed. Open French doors led to a screened in porch, and filled the room with fresh air redolent of lilacs and apple blossoms.
“One of our staff will see to your bags and park your car. I’ll just need your keys.”
I handed them over, wishing I still had them to fidget with.
“Cole will meet you in the sitting room at 5:00pm. Does that give you enough time to settle in?”
I looked at my watch. Two hours. I’d seen a picture of Cole—an 8 x 10 glossy black-and-white head and chest shot. Who could possible settle in anywhere knowing all that stacked masculinity would be waiting for you in the sitting room. I swallowed and nodded. That was the most I could muster in response.
“Cole is a sweet, country boy. You’ll be in good hands. In the meantime, feel free to stroll outside, take in some fresh air, enjoy the view.” She winked and left, leaving me to consider her final words.
I waited until my luggage arrived in the room, then took Elizabeth’s advice and wandered to the paddocks. I’d attempted riding lessons as a kid, but my experience had been limited to a tractor backfiring, causing the young sprite to bolt, leaving me clinging to the reins for dear life. After a good five minutes of death-defying antics, in which I managed to stay on the saddle, the horse finally stopped. I was so exhausted from the ordeal, I slid off and landed in a terrified, quivering heap on the dirt. I loved horses. From a distance.
As I approached the barn, I stopped and stared slack jawed. Cole stood in the middle of a training ring, running a striking chestnut stallion through its paces. Elizabeth’s words popped to mind. “Enjoy the view.”
Dusty cowboy boots poked out beneath tight faded jeans, a thick leather belt creating a striking boundary between fabric and tanned, sculpted flesh. Dirty blond locks curled beneath the brim of a well-worn cowboy hat, and a scruff beard framed high cheekbones and scrumptious lips. I liked mine in response, delighting in the tingle that ran through them at the thought of his mouth on mine.
His glossy photograph had whet the appetite, creating delicious fantasies in my head, but nothing could have prepared me for the real thing, knowing at some point this evening, I would have that hard-muscled body in my bed. Sweat trickled down my ribs.
I could count my lovers on one hand, and my experience with men wasn’t terribly different than my dealings with horses—they typically ended in disaster and the incident left me unfulfilled at best. I’d fallen into a rut, and this adventure seemed like an innovative way to kick start my sex life. It had looked good on paper. Now standing there, watching Cole’s muscles flex as he took control, coaxing the stallion to bend to his will, made me question everything I considered reasonable about this plan. What the hell was I supposed to do with all that?
While my mind grappled with semantics, my body knew what it wanted to do. Heat grew in my chest, and I gripped the wood fence for support as my legs trembled.
He caught my eye and smiled, impossibly adorable dimples winking, and my heart started, threatening to leap clear out of my rib cage. There was only one thing to be done. I turned tail and ran back to my room.
Stayed tuned for more! Coming Soon. 😀