Page 101 of Filthy Hot Escort

“I need to get a condom . . . ”

“Check in her drawers.”

His brows shot up. “You said she was a sweet older woman who was about to retire.”

“And I neglected to tell you that she has a boyfriend who is fifteen years younger than her.”

Julian didn’t bother wasting any more time. He strode to the desk and was back in under one minute. “I really need to meet this woman,” he muttered, ripping into the foil packet and then rolling the condom onto his cock. By then, Skylar was rubbing her thighs together, instinctively trying to ease the ache between them, urging him to hurry.

“Alright, sweetness, let’s get back to what we were doing.”

Positioning himself between her thighs, he let the head of his cock slide up and down her slick pussy, getting it nice and wet before pushing in just deep enough to hear her moan and feel her ass push back against him. Impaled by just the first few inches of his swollen length, she writhed, wanting more . . . wordlessly begging for it all, but he pulled back. His cock was slick with her juices as he moved slowly forward again, deeper this time, but still not all the way.

“Julian, please. We’ve waited so long. Fuck me. Fuck me hard and deep and—ah!”

He thrust forward in one smooth motion until she was impaled by all nine inches of him. Her pussy was so perfect, so tight, it stole his breath.

She shook and trembled beneath him, wriggling as she gasped. “Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, urging him on. He needed no further encouragement as he closed his hands over her sleek hips and began to fuck her in long, hard strokes, all the way, balls deep each time.

He leaned forward, chest pressing on her back, growling as her channel clung to him, working his heavy cock over and over, making his blood sing. He felt her heat from the inside, the muscles squeezing around him, the wall he was hitting deep inside. He began fucking her hard, his cock pounding against her cervix, his balls slapping against her.

“Yes, yes! This feels so good, Julian. The best I’ve ever had.”

“Me, too, baby. Me, too.”

With another thrust, he buried himself balls deep, but this time he stayed there. He closed his eyes, barely hanging onto control. Then he pulled slowly out of her. She whimpered in protest but grew silent when he turned her, lifted her into his arms, then laid her gently down on the couch before climbing on top of her.

She made space between her legs for him, and he lowered himself, propping himself up on his forearms so he wouldn’t crush her. They were both panting, Skylar’s beautiful golden eyes locked on his.

“Like this,” he said. “You said just me. You wanted just me. And I want just you. Beneath me. As I pump my cock into you and stare into your eyes. Do you want that, too?”

She hitched a breath, smiled, then nodded. “Yes. More than anything.”

* * *

With everythingthey’d done together— Julian going down on her at the Masquerade Party, fingering her under the table while at dinner with Hardy, having sex on a strip club floor, having sex in her office . . . Skylar would never have guessed that the thing she would love the most was what they were doing right now, Julian lying on top of her, staring into her eyes as he thrust his cock in and out of her.

But she should have known. This had all started at the Masquerade Party when they’d first locked eyes, and she’d felt that impossible connection to him. The fact that he’d been wearing green contacts then had done nothing to mute that connection or make it any stronger than the connection between them right now.

Neither of them said anything, which made it easy to focus on the tingles. The shivers. The pleasure that built and built and built with every thrust of his cock inside her. He got her there, to the edge of the precipice, sooner than she wanted because she didn’t want this to end, her staring into his eyes and feeling like the rest of the world had disappeared, and it was them, only them, locked in this moment in time forever.

But she didn’t fight when his thrusts suddenly got harder. Deeper. Rougher. The change pushing her up, up, up. As her entire body clenched, she never looked away from him or the awe and desire in his eyes.

His sharp features were softened, his dark eyes were lightened; it was as if he’d taken off a mask and revealed all his vulnerabilities to her at the moment when she herself was most vulnerable. His eyes told her it was okay. His eyes told her she was safe. His eyes gave her the final push to let go and fly.

She screamed his name, her body shaking uncontrollably as her vision flashed white before her eyes. Something inside her exploded—a kaleidoscope of diamond-shaped colors and fireworks and shooting stars. Her whole body felt alive— as if her heart had been locked away in a soundproof box, and only now has it been set free. She could hear it like a kick drum in her ears where before it was just a distantdull, thud, thud, thud.

I’m alive.

Julian’s arms wrapped around her, and it was as if she was being touched for the first time. She could swear she felt every ridge of his thumbprints, every scar along his fingers, every crevice across his palms. She could feel everything so vividly, so distinctly, so perfectly.

If Julian wasn’t holding her so tightly, she imagined that she could simply float away, the weight of her past shed like shackles around her wrists and ankles. And if Julian pulled her in just a little closer, she could imagine sinking into him, becoming one with him. It was an impossibility to float away and sink at the same time, but that’s how she felt: that for once in her life, the impossible was possible.

Julian began to caress her back with gentle strokes as she basked in the glow of indescribable physical pleasure, but she lifted her head to whisper up at him, “I want you to come.”

Julian’s eyes met hers as he silently asked if she was sure.

She nodded. She didn’t want this to be about her. She wanted this to be aboutthem. “Please,” she begged.

---