The Accidental Call Girl Page 21

  Now she did look away, but only for a moment. He felt her brace up in his arms, her spine straightening. She was ready to face the music.

  ‘I’m . . . um . . . I’m not really a call girl, John. I’m not an escort. I never have been. I’ve never taken money. Well, at least not from anybody but you.’ She pursed her lips, and he could see her mind working, whirling. ‘And I’ll give you back all you’ve given to me . . . well, most of it. I have spent a bit of it. But if you give me time, I’ll pay that back too.’

  Abandoning his teasing touch, he enfolded her in his arms, hugging her in the water. ‘Bett . . . Sorry, Lizzie . . . I know you’re not an escort. I’ve suspected you weren’t a real pro for a while, but when you told me your address I had my people do some checking. I carried on with the game because you seemed to be enjoying it.’

  She struggled wildly in his grasp, thumping him on the back, quite hard. ‘You beast! You’ve been playing me for a fool!’ Still beating at him, she shifted her weight, almost as if she were about to knee him in the groin.

  ‘No, not a fool! A sharp, clever, daring woman, not afraid to do something crazy to get out of the daily routine.’ He hugged her harder. ‘A beautiful, sensual woman, with the guts to take on a kinky bastard like me in order to broaden her sexual horizons.’

  He felt her stiffen, as if bracing herself for another onslaught, then she went soft in his arms, pliant against him, her belly pressed to his raging hard-on.

  And she laughed, rocking against him now, shaking with mirth.

  ‘You are a kinky bastard. And an insufferable arrogant git. I should walk out right now, and take all your horrible money with me, for stringing me along.’ A pang of sudden unhappiness shot through him, fear that she meant it, but then she reached down and grasped his still rigid cock, cradling it in a way that was both delicious and vaguely menacing. ‘But seeing as you’re such a colossally amazing fuck, I might just let you off . . . and I’ll stay a while.’ She paused, her thumb stroking the groove beneath his glans, slowly, tantalisingly. ‘I need to pay that money back, though . . . otherwise I am really a whore, aren’t I?’

  ‘Can we discuss the financial details later?’ He slid his hands down to her bottom again. Two could play at the distraction game. He settled his fingertips once more against her anus. ‘I don’t think my negotiating skills will be at their sharpest right now. The blood that should be refreshing my brain cells seems to have settled elsewhere.’ Stroking her as she stroked him, he rocked his hips, pushing his erection through her cradling fingers.

  ‘All right. But I mean it, you know.’ She shimmied against him, and he could feel the musculature of her arse flexing and tightening as if she were trying to entice his searching fingertips.

  ‘I know you do. But for the moment, I’d rather focus on one of our other bargains.’ He pushed his finger hard against her rear vent, testing the muscle ring. ‘You know which one.’

  ‘I’ve never had anal sex before. That’s why I needed to tell you. An accomplished call girl has probably done anal hundreds of times . . . but I haven’t.’ She was nervous, he could tell, but from the way she paused, and breathed deeply, he knew she was trying to relax herself and let his finger in. ‘I’m a virgin back there.’

  Something atavistic in him stirred. Something primal. He’d never have expected a woman her age to be a virgin, even if they’d met under the most normal of circumstances, but he experienced a strangely chest-beating, he-man thrill to know he’d be her first, in this one thing at least.

  ‘Good.’ He pushed a little harder, but she was tense. Standing here in the shower wasn’t the way to do things. He needed to make it easy for her, as comfortable as possible.

  And yet, as he pictured himself looming over her, about to push in, his imagination presented her bottom to him as rosy, freshly spanked, and his cock kicked hard in her fingers. Kinky bastard, indeed.

  Biting his lip, he centred himself, breathing deeply. Did she sense his hair-trigger readiness? Her hold on him now was light as a feather, as if she did.

  ‘Let’s get out of this water, shall we?’ he suggested, reaching to turn off the flow. ‘Let’s get comfy and then we can have some naughty, forbidden fun. You’ll love it, I can promise you. Take it from someone who still remembers what it’s like to have a cock in his arse.’ With Benjamin, it had been good. It had been pleasure.

  ‘You’re a filthy devil, you are,’ she growled at him, but she was smiling as they stepped out of the cubicle.

  *

  Lizzie smiled, but her heart was pounding and she felt as if she might fly apart at any moment. She’d told John, and he was OK with it. He still wanted her, at least for the moment.

  Of course he fucking wants you, you nincompoop! You’re about to let him put his dick in your arse. He’s hardly likely to tell you not to darken his doorstep any more, when anal sex is on offer any minute, is he?

  ‘What are you laughing at, Miss Lizzie?’ he demanded, then pulled her close again for a deep hard kiss, body to body, his cock boring into her belly.

  ‘Nothing,’ she demurred when they broke apart again. ‘I thought you might tell me to piss off when you found out I wasn’t really an escort . . . but then I realised no man in his right mind would turn down anal sex first.’

  He smiled down at her, water dripping from his curly hair where it dangled across his brow. ‘Even if I weren’t about to plunder your luscious bum I wouldn’t tell you to go. We’re having a good time, aren’t we?’ His eyes glittered. There was good humour there, but, was there something else? Perhaps not. ‘We’re two grown-ups who enjoy each other’s bodies and both like a bit of kinky fun.’ Reaching up, he swept the wet hair out of his eyes, then did the same for her, where strands were plastered to her face. ‘And don’t worry about money. I always give presents to people I like and I like you, Lizzie. So there’s an end of it.’

  She ran her hands down his body, savouring his hot, wet skin. ‘So, we’re like temporary sex friends now, instead of punter and escort?’

  He paused for half a beat. ‘Well, yes, I suppose that’s a good way to put it . . . temporary sex friends. Yes, I like that . . . Do you?’

  It sounded stupid, and she wished she’d never said it. But she could hardly tell him she might have fallen in love with him after just a few days of spanking and fucking, could she? That was infinitely more stupid. Even if it was the truth!

  ‘Yes. Now shall we get on? Where . . . where do you want me?’

  John glanced around the bathroom, his eyes lighting on the fluffy deep-piled bath rug and the heaped piles of fresh towels and bath sheets. ‘There,’ he said, pointing to the soft, thick rug, then flashing a wickedly saturnine grin at her. He looked like the very devil. ‘I want you doggie style on that rug, with your beautiful bottom in the air all ready for me.’ He gripped her buttocks hard, fingertips in the crease. ‘And I’d like to spank you a little bit first. I want to see your bum cheeks pink as I push in.’

  Lust surged in her belly. Lust and a delicious, roiling apprehension, imagining herself presented to him thus, rude and available, marked by his hand. She looked into his eyes, and the grin was gone now. Not the humour, that was still there, but his expression was more fiery now, resolute. Masterful.

  She wanted him so much she almost floated to the ceiling, borne up on a wave of longing. It was the most natural thing in the world to lower her eyes, his submissive.

  ‘Good,’ he said again, and she knew he’d understood everything. Naked and dripping wet he was an assured and dominant god. ‘Now, down you go.’

  Trembling, Lizzie obeyed him. She felt klutzy and ungainly, but he made a low sound in his throat when she assumed the position he’d specified, obviously of approval.

  ‘Oh, baby, you look so delicious like that. Your arse is perfect, you know that, don’t you? A heavenly work of art. And it’ll be even more adorable when I’ve made it red. Hell, yes . . .’

  Then he was on his knees beside her, touching her hair. Deft
ly he loosened the scrunchie that held it, and then smoothed it out, sweeping it to one side, over one shoulder. ‘Be quite still,’ he specified, then started touching her again, his fingertips gliding over her back and her flanks, then reaching under her to squeeze her breasts. He pinched her nipples, pincering them firmly between finger and thumb, one after the other, then, even as she began to squirm and shift her hips, he withdrew and leapt lightly to his feet again.

  ‘Hold that position for me, beautiful. Just like that.’ He walked around her, moving behind. ‘Ah, that’s lovely, but I’d like you to part your thighs a bit further. Show me more.’ With his bare foot, he pushed against the inside of her knee, nudging her apart. ‘Yes, better. Now stay exactly like that.’

  She heard him padding softly away, barefoot, heading for his bedroom.

  Moisture trickled down the inside of her thigh . . . but it had nothing to do with the shower.

  16

  Au Fond

  Lizzie held the position perfectly, because he’d told her to, but it was difficult. Her pussy was puffed and aching for contact. His hand . . . hers . . . she didn’t care. Arousal was welling and overflowing between her sex lips, more copious than ever before.

  It was easy to obey him. Easy to do what he wanted. Anything was easier than thinking about complications. This, kneeling where he’d told her to, and simmering like a pressure cooker of desire, was the simplest thing in the world.

  Tensing the muscles of her buttocks, she imagined his hand landing hard on first one, then the other, igniting the now familiar burn of pain. Pain that transmuted like alchemical gold into rich, dark pleasure. And how much richer and darker would it be to feel his cock pushing into her arse? She was ready for it, and prepared . . . but also not ready. She’d struggled when he’d just tried to insert his fingertip.

  But he was John, and he’d never truly hurt her, so she trusted him more than anything to make it all feel good.

  The door swung open again, and she heard the clink of glass. A moment later he was on the rug beside her, setting down his haul. She saw a couple of tubes of lubricant – goodness, that much? – and a box of condoms. Not the type they’d used thus far; they were labelled as a thicker gauge. Au Fond, the brand name said, and if there’d been any doubt what they were designed for, the sleek line of a toned buttock on the box dispelled that, although it was hard to tell if the bum was male or female.

  The clinking glass sound had come from two tumblers. Holding them together by the rim, John set them down on the rug at her side. The fluid was clear, and the balsamic, almost medicinal scent was unmistakeable.

  Gin.

  ‘A little drink will help relax you,’ he said, picking one glass up again. ‘It’s not good to get legless in these situations, but a drop of gin might calm some of the nerves.’

  Was he meaning to hold the glass to her lips while she knelt? Twisting to look at him, she sent him a questioning glance.

  ‘Oh no . . . I wouldn’t do that. That would be demeaning. Roll onto your side, love. Have a little sip.’

  Lizzie slithered onto her side on the thick, fluffy rug, her knees tucked, and accepted the drink. She’d never really liked gin before she’d met John, but now, it hit the perfect spot with its silvery fire. It was a crystal elixir and it did exactly the job he’d described. A few mouthfuls of the neat alcohol sent a glow speeding through her veins that lightened her spirits and smoothed away anxiety.

  Yet it did nothing to minimise her desire. Looking at John, who looked back at her over the rim of his own glass, she wanted him more and more. That unknown territory, her dark virginity, was his for the taking.

  ‘Nice,’ she said, taking a last sip, then handing the glass back to him. The intermission was over. He was her master again and, as gracefully as she could, she got back onto her knees, dishing her back to display her bottom to him.

  ‘Nice,’ he echoed, and the glasses clinked again as he put both aside.

  Her head fell forward, and her hair swung around her face, as his hands settled upon her. He gripped her buttocks in a rude, firm grip, squeezing and pulling the flesh this way and that. It felt like the touch of an experienced stockman handling a prized animal. She knew it was meant to feel that way too, and the deep sense of submission made her ache and softly groan.

  ‘Nice,’ he whispered again, pulling apart the lobes of her bottom to expose her anus to him. The sensation of stretching made her want to weep with lust and plead with him to push into her right now, without preparation, without lubrication, without hesitation. Her own fluid welled again, and she knew it would be visible, shiny, on her thighs. Even as he manipulated her, she moved, swaying her hips invitingly, shifting herself around to open even more to him.

  ‘Jesus, you’re a horny little cat, Lizzie. You really want it, don’t you?’ He stretched her open, more, more. ‘Tell me what you want. Tell me everything you want.’

  Held wide open, she gasped. A gentle waft of air flowed over her vent. He was blowing against her in a whisper of a caress. Her face flamed, imagining how close his face must be to her bottom.

  ‘I want you to fuck me. To fuck me hard. I want you in my arse. I don’t care if it’s uncomfortable. Or if it hurts. I just want you to have me there. Be the first . . .’

  ‘And other things?’ For just a moment, his lips settled on the upper slope of her bottom, first one side, then the other, as if marking out the territory he wished her to refer to.

  ‘Yes, I want you to spank me hard and make my bum hot and sore first. I want to be red for you when you bugger me.’

  Where is all this mad stuff coming from? I only had a few sips of gin. I feel as if I’ve gone slightly off my head.

  It was a thrilling feeling, though. A sense of total submission. Total surrender to this beautiful man who’d suddenly and accidentally arrived in her life and who would just as suddenly leave it again soon.

  She must have him now. Have everything. Give everything.

  ‘Oh please, John, do it. I can’t bear waiting any longer. I’m aching.’

  ‘I know, sweetheart. I know . . . I can see your delicious pussy dripping. It’s divine.’

  She let out a sharp, high cry when he swooped low and dipped his tongue into her cleft from behind, lapping at her silk. He shouldn’t be doing that. He was the master. She should be the one abasing herself before him. And yet he was bowed down low, licking her sex, like a worshipper.

  Pressing herself towards his questing tongue, she gasped. ‘You . . . you shouldn’t be doing that . . . should you?’

  His answer was to grab her by the thighs, hold her, and thrust his tongue into her vagina, jabbing hard. He laughed when he pulled his face away, then kissed her on the crown of each buttock. ‘I thought I was supposed to be in charge here? I’m the boss. I can do what I want.’ He ran his hands over her thighs and flanks possessively. ‘I’ve a good mind to carry you to that bed out there, tie you up, and lick you until you beg me for mercy because you can’t come any more. How would you like that, you uppity minx?’

  ‘You’d get cramp in your tongue.’

  ‘Probably.’ He leaned right over her, kissing the top of her spine. ‘But I still might have tried it if I wasn’t so desperate to fuck you in the arse.’

  ‘Well, get on with it, then.’ Arching her body, she pressed back against him, rubbing her thighs and her bottom against him, working her cleft against the hard prow of his cock.

  ‘You’re an outrageous sub, you know that, don’t you? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you trying to top me from the bottom all the time. I should spank you hard for that.’

  Twisting, she looked at him over her shoulder, using her eyes to tell him to get a move on now, instead of her voice. He shook his head, making his drying blond curls flutter like an angel’s, and grinned back at her before kissing her hard on the spine at the base of her head, rubbing his face in her hair.

  Then he straightened up, kneeling beside her with his cock pointing rudely. Without warning h
e landed a lazy, open-handed slap on her right buttock, then another on her left, making her yelp in surprise.

  ‘You’re a delicious, bad, beautiful woman, Lizzie . . . Lizzie whatever your name is.’ He spanked her hard, another blow landing, then another, as if he could compel her surname out of her by main force.

  ‘Aitchison. My name is Lizzie Aitchison . . .’

  ‘Is . . . that . . . a . . . fact?’ he pronounced, whaling the under-hang of her bottom with a slap for each word.

  Sizzling heat roasted her buttocks, sinking into her crotch, almost making her come. She pitched forward, her elbows on the mat, forehead pressed against her arms, trying to compose herself. ‘But if you’ve had your snoops checking up on me, you knew that already, didn’t you?’ she accused, the words muffled by her hair. ‘And why won’t you tell me your real name?’ She knew it . . . just as well as he’d known hers . . . but it seemed important to ask the question.

  ‘You know my name. It’s John Smith.’ His hand settled flat on her blazing flesh, as if she’d caught him by surprise.

  ‘No, your real real name. The one you were born with.’

  ‘You know that too, if you’ve looked me up.’

  ‘I . . . I do . . .’ A couple of particularly stinging slaps landed, angled cleverly, striking her right across the vent of her bottom and making her whine and churn her hips.

  ‘Right, then . . . I’m Jonathan Llewellyn Wyngarde Smith, and I’m going to fuck that gorgeous, sumptuous, insolent red arse of yours, Miss Aitchison. I’m going to plough you until you come in a howling orgasm and turn cross-eyed. How does that sound?’

  ‘It sounds fabulous, your lordship.’ She gritted her teeth as he found that same uniquely tender spot again.

  ‘Uh oh, I think you know that I don’t use my title either. I haven’t for twenty years. It’s completely meaningless.’

  Dishing her back, she thrust her bottom at him, inviting more, inviting everything. ‘Well, that’s a shame. I was hoping to be able to tell my grandchildren in my dotage that I’d once been buggered by a lord.’