"So, are we doing this?"
He nodded against my neck, nuzzling it at the same time. I couldn't help but be flattered by his gentleness. Even though he was kissing me with the primal roughness that came out in most men when they were with me, his hands were gentle as they ran over my breasts and dipped into the elastic of my thong. Most men considered me a piece of meat. I had no problem with this. When I first decided I wanted to be a call girl, I knew the terms that came with it. Most of them were rough with me, since most women felt "degraded" by that type of behavior. But with me, they could do anything. They were paying.
I pushed him back slightly. "Money first," I demanded, holding out my hand.
He looked surprised for a moment, not realizing that I could go from horny-girl to business-woman in a matter of seconds. You see, I have this internal switch that only I control. I can be the lustful, young, turned on call-girl one minute, and completely stoic and unfazed by the most sexual arousals the next. It's a talent I've perfected over the years. This is my career, and it's not just about sex.
Most of the time.
I watched as he fished into his pocket, pulling out his leather wallet. "How much?"
"Nine hundred an hour," I stated plainly. This was my rate. New York is an expensive city, and I'm a fan of luxury. His eyes met mine, once again, in shock. He pulled out a check and scribbled the information, 1,800, before passing it to me. I got up quickly, placed it into my coat that was now hanging on the back of his door, and moved so I was standing in front of him once again.
He stared up at me as I planned my approach. I met his blue, broody eyes, which were now narrowed in thought. "You're really beautiful, you know that?"
I've been called many things by my clients, as you may already know. But rarely am I called beautiful. The second they use the word beautiful, I know they don't want the seductive, sexy Brooke. They want the makeup-less, natural-Brooke.
I smiled at him, hoping that he would stop staring at me so seriously. "Do you wanna take a shower with me?" he asked suddenly, pulling me back onto his lap by my waist.
Rule #4: never shower with a client unless you are completely comfortable with them. Condoms are more likely to come off with the moisture, and many guys refuse to wear them at all.
I shook my head at him, the large window overlooking the city suddenly catching my eye. "Come here," I beckoned, pulling myself off his lap, grabbing his hands in mine. I walked backward until my back was arched against the cold glass. I felt chills run down my body at the contact, but ignored them as I reached for his jeans. I unbuttoned them slowly, making sure I didn't break my eyes from his. Once I peeled off the dark pants, I went for his boxers, stripping them off faster as he rested a hand on the glass over my right shoulder. His breath was ragged in my ear, and my movements became more urgent by the second. Once his boxers were discarded, I surveyed him, noticing how large he was. I pulled the waiting condom out of my thong (where I expertly keep it), and tore the wrapper open with my mouth. He watched me hungrily as I slipped it onto him with steady hands, the routine being extremely familiar to me.
As I looked at him, it occurred to me that this would be one of those nights where my job is less of a job and more of a pleasure.
I wrapped my legs around his waist as he thrusted into me, pushing my naked bottom and back against the window. I moaned in ecstasy as his lips struggled to lock onto mine. I gripped the back of his head, pulling his mouth closer to me so I could tug on his bottom lip. He thrusted powerfully and I could feel my body getting weak, but I wanted to keep up with him. So when he dove into me once again, I forced my hips to meet his as my hands gripped at his hair. His hands on the other hand were planted firmly against the window, holding both of us steady. I could feel the hot skin on my stomach sticking to his chiseled body, the sweet sweat locking us together. My hands moved from his hair, to his neck, and then down to his waist as I pulled him further into me.
I met him thrust for thrust for a few more minutes before he locked his arms around my waist and carried me to the bedroom, him still inside of me, my legs still wrapped around him tightly.
When we reached the large room, he placed me onto the bed, and I ushered him forward by his necklace, locking our lips once again.
"Mmm, Brooke," he moaned into my ear. "I'm almost there."
He hovered on top of me, digging further into me with each thrust, and my fingers gripped his muscular back as his orgasm ripped through him, mine following mere moments after.
Then he planted a few kisses down my arm while still inside me. And that's when I knew that this was not a man who was used to having crazy, wild, cheating sex with anyone. He pulled out of me and rolled over to the empty space on the bed.
I watched his chest heave up and down before I sat up and headed to the bathroom.
As I walked out, he lifted himself up on his elbows and watched me, glancing at the time. "Hey, I paid you for another hour…" he started. I turned around; expecting him to ask for his money back since he had came within less time than expected. "How about we go get a drink or something?"
For a moment, I was relieved. Then, I was skeptical. First, the romantic after-sex kisses, now a drink?
I leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, my hand on my hip. "Why?"
He shrugged. "P-Peyton," he stuttered, the name clearly haunting him. "She's sleeping at a girlfriend's tonight, so I'm alone until tomorrow."
"And…?"
"And I might as well enjoy it, right?"
I wasn't sure who he was trying to convince: me, or himself.
"Come on," he pressed. "There's a nice hotel a block or two away. We can get drinks and then I'll take you home."
I sighed inwardly, trying to decide. It was already 3:30 in the morning, but I would get a free round of drinks plus, I wouldn't have to pay cab fare home.
But I couldn't go. This extra addition to the night went against all that I stood for when it came to my job. Sure, I had had gorgeous clients before. But I had never been in a relationship or anything remotely resembling one with any of them.
And Lucas was not going to change that.
"I'd rather you keep your money," I stated as I fished the check out of my coat.
He looked semi-hurt, but nothing too detrimental to his fragile male ego. "No, I couldn't take it back. Just keep it. Think of it as a tip."
I shrugged, not arguing about an extra 900 before replacing the check, and began pulling my jacket on.
"This was nice," he commented as I began heading for the door, coat tied securely.
"Mhm," I murmured. This guy was too much. Before I left, he planted a long, hard kiss on my swollen lips.
"I wanna see you again," he mumbled against my lips. I felt my skin tingle under his hot breath, and for a moment, the situation almost felt like the ending to a perfect date.
I nodded, knowing that I wouldn't be seeing him again, no matter how insistent he'd be about it to Rosie. "Call Rosie."
And then, I was gone.