Page 24 of Sexy Bad Escort

Settlingon the bed, he brusheshis lips against the pulse point on my wrist, works his way to myelbow, my shoulder, before doing the same to my other arm.Everywhere he touches me heat spreads, interlocks with the nextpoint of contact, an intricate web of sensation that slowly buildson itself. I inhale sharply as he wraps his lips around my breastand gently bites my nipple. My hands hover off the bed before hecovers them with his own. He pays the same attention to my otherbreast. Then he moves between them, nipping and sucking, beforetrailing down to my navel.

My bodyison fire. My hips moveof their own accord, begging for his touch. He ignores that areacompletely. Kneeling between my legs, he lifts one heeled foot ontohis shoulder. Strokes a knuckle down the inside of my ankle. Plantsa kiss in that same spot. Our conversation about foreplay and howhe would make it last and last and last replays in my head as hekisses his way along my calf and up the inside of myknee.

My sexclenches as his mouthgets so close. The heat of his breath makes me gasp and shudder.And then he draws back and does the same to my other leg. But,surely, this time, he’ll touch me. Every muscle in my bodystretches toward him in anticipation. I start to pant.

When heruns a finger along the outside of my panties, fireworks burstbehind myeyelids, and Iarch up off the bed with a moan. Oh God, I’m going to combustbefore we can get past the foreplay. And then he takes his handaway, and I’m overwhelmed with the need for more.

He grabsmy thong, and I lift my hips to help him remove itbefore reaching for hisunderwear. “These too.”

“In a hurry tosee what else I haven’t been joking about?”

“OhGod, yes.” Imoisten my lips as I sit up. “No more foreplay.”

“Toomuch for you?” He climbs off the bed to shed his boxer briefs andsnag a condomfrom thewallet in his shorts. He rips the foil packet open and rolls itover his erection.

What didhe say about his dick again? It was better thana motorbike. I’ve never needed this badlyto ride a motorbike before. “Not too much. I justwant...”

“Got it.” Hegrins.

“No, Idon’t think you do.” I pounce on him before he can climb back ontothe bed, and we go down in a pile of limbs andkisses among thepillows. Pushing him onto his back, I straddle him.

“Easy.You can take advantage of me all you want.” He mock growls as he grips my hips with onehand and drags one of my fancy cushions under his head. His cockpulses between my legs, nudges at my entrance, slides home. I revelin the sensation and the groan that drags from his throat, thesudden tenseness in his grip, the roll of his hips.

“Actually, maybeyou should...”

“OhGod,” I whisper, throwing my head back and riding him. Allthatbuild-up washesthrough me like a dam broke. Spots dance in front of myeyes.

“Yeah,that.” He tangles his fingers in my hair and grinds into me while I orgasm. “Feels sogood.” The sinew in his neck stands out as he arches underneath meone last time. “Fuck, Ronnie.”

Icollapse on top of him while the tension slowly leaves his body andhis chest deflates. His heartpounds underneath my ear, lulling me half-comatose. “Weshould go to bed.”

Hechuckles as he wraps one arm around me and sits up.“Thought you’d neverask.”

***

Danny’snot in the bedroom when I wake up, though the other half of my bedisn’t cold yet. Thescent of bacon makes my mouth water and my belly growl. Notsurprising. It feels like I ran a marathon last night.

Themanhas stamina. By thebucket load. Garrett’s always picking on him for being a slacker.Hell, it’s something Danny is happy to boast about, even when he’sput in weeks of work for each of my siblings’ weddings. And he’sworked a lot of hours since we started Rent-A-Danny too, so I’m notentirely sure where he got the idea that he’s a moochfrom.

There iscertainly nothing slack abouthis bedroom skills. I scissor my thighs together. They’re alittle sore, like I’ve spent some time at the gym. It’s a niceache, the type that reminds you that you did something fun.Something that probably won’t happen again. After all, it’s fake,isn’t it? He was doing me a favor that got out of hand. He told mewe could fake break up any time I wanted. He’s only in it for thechase anyway, and after last night I won’t hold the same interestfor him. And that should be peachy. But I’m not sure it’s what Iwant.

Climbingout of bed, I pull on a tank top and a pair ofleopard-print, cottonshorts and make my way to the kitchen.

Danny’smadehimself at home,standing in front of the stove in his boxer briefs, cookingbreakfast. Blueberry pancakes and bacon. “Coffee?”

“Yes,please.”

“Sit,” hesays, pouring a cup of java and putting it in front of me.

I tuckone knee up on the chairand rest my chin on it while I watch him pile pancakes onto twoplates. He sets one down in front of me and then pulls out a chairfor himself. “Tuck in.”

“Thanks.” I cut into a pancake and pop a bite into my mouth.I don’t know what to say. About last night. Or if I even should bring it up. Maybe ifwe ignore it, things will go back to normal.Because that’ll work sowell.

“About lastnight,” he says, putting down his fork and moving closer. He picksup my foot and puts it on his thigh. “Was that...were we gettingthe attraction out of our system so we can concentrate on beingbusiness partners?”

“That’swhat it was, wasn’t it?”I chew through the soggy mouthful that’s become quite floury. “Youchased me. You caught me. We can concentrate on otherthings.”

“Wecan.”He strokes histhumb in small circles on my ankle, making other parts of myanatomy wake up. “But I would rather keep doing this.”

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