Escorted (13 page)

“Oh God,” she
gasped, clawing at his neck and shoulders. She couldn’t stop, even though she
knew she was leaving angry scratches on his skin.

He grunted, and
she read it as a question

“Coming again.”
Her body tightened up and she tried to breathe as he’d taught her to. She
couldn’t even begin to take a full breath.

She managed to
wrap her legs around him, squeezing him with her arms and her legs. Her orgasm
was on the edge of cresting, and Ander’s hot, shuddering, urgent body felt
delicious against hers.

She cried out
breathlessly as the tension broke inside her, and Ander let go at the same
time. As she rode out the waves of pleasure, she was conscious of Ander
releasing a loud, guttural sound, just at her ear. His hips jerked and his body
seemed to pulse as his own climax ripped through him.

She collapsed
back onto the bed with Ander on top of her. She was soaked with sweat and shaky
with fatigue and an overload of sensation. Her eyes, throat, and lungs burned,
and she was sore from his cock and the stretching of her stomach muscles.

Her intimate
flesh felt swollen, and still throbbed with achy pleasure.

“Oh God,” she
gasped. She stroked the skin she’d scratched on Ander’s neck, shoulders, and
back. “Oh God.”

Ander grunted,
breathing damply and very fast against the crook of her neck.

“Oh God, that
was good,” she said. His body was still radiating heat but it had softened lusciously
with the release of so much tension. When he didn’t answer, she added, “You all
right?”

“Yes.” He
straightened his arms, pulling himself off of her. Then he held the condom in
place as he pulled his cock out with a slurping sound. “I’ll be right back.”

Once again, he
went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. And once again, she heard the
water running and thought he was gone longer than usual.

When he finally
came back, he didn’t get back into bed. She was a little disappointed, since
they still had more than a half-hour left of the evening. Not that she could
take any more sex tonight, but she always enjoyed their chats afterward.

She knew Ander
well enough by now to know that he was ready to leave. Not that he’d ever say
so. She had paid until midnight. But she understood the question in his eyes as
he stood looking down on her.

She was
actually a little hurt. She’d had amazing sex—mind-blowing sex—and now he
couldn’t wait to get away from her.

Maybe he was
tired, though. Maybe he’d had a bad day. She liked and respected him too much
to make him stay just because she technically had another half-hour of bought
time.

With a smile,
she said, “You can take a shower if you want. I’ve had all I can handle
tonight.”

He thanked her
and retreated to the bathroom with his clothes.

Lori sighed and
told herself to be reasonable. There was no reason to have her feelings hurt. This
was business to him. While she was convinced he’d enjoyed the sex, there was no
reason for him to linger afterwards, just because she felt like reflecting on
how good it had been.

 By the time he
came out again—cool, composed and fully dressed—she felt good again. She’d had two
rounds of amazing sex and quite a few powerful orgasms. She definitely needed a
shower to cool off and wash up, but after that she’d be able to enjoy the
aftermath of her climaxes and have a long night’s sleep in a cozy bed.

And tomorrow
was Saturday. She could get settled again at home and hang out with Sabrina.

Plus she had a
lunch date on Wednesday and another date next Saturday with a handsome,
eligible man. The fundraiser should be fun—with a lot of affluent, important
people to mingle with and have fun taunting. She’d have to go shopping with Sabrina
to find herself a new, sexy dress. Phil Rothe really was gorgeous. With all the
practice and experience she’d had recently, she wouldn’t even be self-conscious
or scared about sex, so there was finally the potential to get serious about a
man.

She had nothing
to complain about.

When she got
out of bed, she stumbled at a jolt of sharp pain between her legs.

“All right?” Ander
asked, eyeing her in concern.

“Sore,” she
admitted. “We had a lot of sex this evening.”

He chuckled,
and she was relieved to see he looked relaxed again. “We did.”

“It was really
good,” she told him, sliding the envelope of money over to him. “I’m not sure
what got into me.”

His gaze was
careful and observant, although he still smiled as he slipped the cash into his
pocket uncounted. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I was...was
like an animal.” She blushed as she thought about her shamelessness. “I hope I
didn’t scratch you too much.”

“You didn’t.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “I think the animal suits you well.”

His comment was
clever and flippant, but it made her blush again. This time from pleasure.

“So we’re on
for a week from Monday?”

“Yes,” he said
as he packed up his case. “I have you scheduled.”

“Good. I’m
looking forward to it.” She walked him to the door and leaned against it as he
left the room. “Have a good week.”

“You too.”

As Lori watched
Ander walked down the hall toward the elevator, she had to ask herself what she
was more looking forward to: her first date with an eligible man she could
possibly have a future with or her next engagement with Ander.

“I’m telling you,” Lori
insisted, trying so hard not to laugh she almost slopped her champagne. “He
wasn’t leering at my cleavage.”

Phil Rothe—lean,
dark, sexy, and rugged with his five o’clock shadow and deeply tanned face—gave
her a rakish grin. “Deny it all you want. I know where his eyes were lingering.
And it wasn’t on your necklace. And he perked up even more when I told him you
wrote sexy romances under a penname.”

Lori moved an
unconscious hand to her jade pendant on a gold chain she’d paired with her deep
green evening gown. “Phil, he’s about a hundred years old! And the chair of the
museum board!”

“Even
prestigious museum boards boast pervy old men,” Phil murmured, moving an arm
around her waist as they strolled out of the elegant ballroom, clustered with
well-dressed, affluent guests, and into the wide hallway that led to rooms with
the artwork being showcased tonight. “He was definitely sneaking a peak at your
cleavage. And, since you chose to wear that dress, I can hardly be surprised.”

Sniffing
disdainfully, Lori gave him a pseudo-cool look. She and Phil had gone to lunch
a few days ago and had a great time. So far their date to the museum fundraiser
was a success as well. Phil was smart, funny, and handsome, and she liked his
blunt manner and quick humor. She even liked his books. “This dress shows only
a perfectly respectable amount of cleavage.”

Phil’s eyes
lingered obviously at the deep crease and shadow at the neckline of her gown.
While it wasn’t so revealing as to be crude, the dress was sexier than anything
she’d ever owned before. He lifted his dark eyebrows and drawled, “Yeah.”

She chuckled
and came to a stop in the middle of the hallway, next to a huge mirror with an
elaborate, gilded frame. A quick glance in the mirror showed her to be looking
quite nice this evening, with upswept hair and more makeup than she usually
wore. She twisted her neck slightly to make sure there was no longer any hint of
a bruise from where Ander had bit her the week before.

She was a
little surprised that Ander hadn’t asked permission before he’d marked her, but
she hadn’t minded the bruise, really. It evoked very pleasurable memories.  She
was glad it had faded in time for this evening, though.

She slanted a
teasing look over at Phil. “Obviously, elderly chairmen of museum boards don’t
hold exclusive rights to perviness.”

Phil took a
step closer to her. “Who exactly did you have in mind?”

Feeling a
little thrill of excitement at his obvious attraction, Lori took a step back.
“I had in mind a certain younger, smug lawyer who has recently taken a turn at
being a writer.”

With a low
laugh, Phil pushed her gently against the wall of the hallway. Most of the
guests were still in the ballroom, where the welcoming address had just been
made. “Guilty as charged,” he said in a gruff voice.

Then he took
her face in his hands and kissed her.

Lori didn’t
have much experience, but she suspected that Phil was a very good kisser. His
mouth moved with ease and confidence against hers as he gently licked the line
of her lips.

He’d kissed her
very briefly after their lunch date on Wednesday, but this kiss quickly became
something else. She opened for him unconsciously and wrapped her arms around
his neck while he pressed the hard line of his body against hers.

They kissed for
longer and deeper than was probably wise in the middle of a hall at a stuffy
museum fundraiser. While Lori didn’t feel any urgent sexual desire, she was
jittery and breathless when she heard voices at the other end of the hall and
pulled away.

An older man
and woman promenaded through the hall, giving the flushed couple still entwined
against the wall a very disapproving look.

Lori stifled a
giggle and shared a guilty look with Phil, who still had one hand at her waist
and the other cupping the back of her head.

Then her eyes
drifted toward the ballroom again, to see who else had spotted her in such a
disgraceful position.

Her giggle died
a sudden death.

Ander stood
about halfway down the hall, frozen in place, staring at her with a blank
intensity that took her breath away. He held two glasses of champagne in his
hands, but his eyes were fixed on her face.

Lori froze too,
feeling like a weight of shock and disorientation had slammed into her from
above. She’d done a really good job of compartmentalizing her sessions with Ander—allowing
them to have nothing to do with the rest of her life, enjoying them as one
would a harmless indulgence.

But the
barriers between her interactions with him and the rest of her life had
abruptly, brutally been ripped away.

She was on a
date with Phil. A good date. Something she hadn’t experienced in a really long
time. And she had fucked Ander exactly a week ago in a plush hotel room. Fucked
him twice. He’d made her come over and over again. She had paid him at the end
of the night.

And both men
were now in the same hallway.

Her cheeks
burned so hotly she knew her skin had flamed. She shifted restlessly until Phil
dropped his arms and stepped back. He was looking over at Ander curiously. “A
friend of yours?”

Lori had
absolutely no idea what to say.

She was saved
from answering by the arrival of the woman who must be Ander’s date for the
evening. Lori had met the Sarah Jacoby a few times in the past. They weren’t
friends but they had done some work together in New York for a national charity
that raised money for local literacy programs.

Sarah was in
her mid-thirties and had recently gotten divorced from a New York business
mogul. She must be visiting Seattle this weekend.

She’d obviously
found a painless way of getting a date for the fundraiser.

“Michael,”
Sarah said, hurrying over to take Ander’s arms. “Sorry. I got waylaid by Amelia
Bernard.” She glanced over toward Lori and Phil. “Lori! How nice to see you
again. I saw you earlier across the room, but couldn’t say hi.”

Lori steeled
herself, took Phil’s hand, and led him over to the other couple. “Hi, Sarah.
Getting bored with New York?”

Sarah flashed a
dimple. She was Lori’s height but about twenty pounds heavier and ten years
older. She wasn’t unattractive, with curly dark hair and a cherubic face.
“Actually, just trying to annoy the ex by maintaining the position on the
museum board that he pulled strings for me to get. He thought I would just slink
away after the divorce. Silly man. This is my date. Michael Blakely.”

Lori shook
hands with the man she knew as Ander Lourdes. She supposed he probably used
whatever name his date wanted him to use when he escorted a woman to a social
event. “Lori Addison. This is Phil Rothe.”

Although Ander
had obviously been taken by surprise at the sight of her tonight, he’d
recovered with remarkable composure. His expression was cool and neutral as he
shook hands with Phil and they made some innocuous small talk.

Lori was
relieved that her voice was natural and friendly, although she was horribly
distracted by the way Ander kept his arm around Sarah’s waist, his fingers
occasionally giving a little caress.

Finally, Sarah
said, “I guess we should go check out some of that art.” She smiled besottedly
up at Ander. “You’ll have to explain it to me, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll be happy
to,” he murmured, his eyes resting on her face in such a way that Lori could
have sworn he was in love with the woman. Then, a voice she could barely hear,
he added to Sarah, “Although no piece of art on the wall could be as exquisite
as you.”

Lori almost
gagged.

He was doing
his job. Playing a part. This was what his services entailed. Acting the
romantic escort, making a woman feel like she was the most important person in
the world, whether or not the evening ended with sex.

She managed to
mumble out a farewell as Sarah and Ander walked on. She’d known—she’d
known
—that
this was what Ander did. He was a male escort. Among other things, he fucked
women for money. She was hardly his only client. He had a very busy schedule.

It was just
that knowing was different than seeing.

“Ex-boyfriend?”
Phil asked, studying her face.

Lori couldn’t
possibly tell him the truth—not on a second date—so she accepted this as the
easiest of excuses for her reaction. “Yeah. Something like that.”