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“Please, sir, I–,” I stammer to a halt as he starts to fuck me harder, his fingers grazing my walls, pushing hard against my G-spot so I feel it radiating all the way through my core. I’ve never come from my G-spot before, only my clit, and yet, the sensation is already building through me, starting to peak. He thrusts harder, faster, but his other hand grips my hip hard, commanding.
“Beg,” he commands.
“Please let me come for you,” I gasp. My eyes shut tight, my hands dig into the leather straps of the belt around my wrists. “Please, sir, I want to give you my cum, I want to please you.” I don’t even know what I’m saying; I hardly hear my own voice over the rushing in my ears.
“God, Corbella…” He sounds strained too, as turned on as I am, and that makes it even hotter.
“Please,” I moan one last time. “May I come for you?”
He curls his fingers inside me, fixating on my G-spot, rubbing hard, fast, still finger-fucking me. “Come for me, Corbella,” he says. “Now.” At the same time, he adds a third finger, stretching me to my limits, and I don’t even have to try.
I cry out loudly as the orgasm sweeps over me, my whole body shaking with the force of it. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, just keeps thrusting into me, and even as I fall over the peak, I feel another one hard on its heels, building. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt, coming this way, from my G-spot, from inside. Everything feels tighter, sharper, more intense. I feel my juices wetting his hand as he keeps thrusting, and I hit another peak, harder, the kind of orgasm that’s half pleasure and half pain, like everything Giovanni does to me. I’m shaking, moaning. I can’t even hear myself, whether I’m saying words or just crying out. I’m lost in another world, in the sensations he gives to me.
When I finally come back down, he slides his hand out of me and turns me over, onto my back, smirking. His hand is wet with my cum, glistening, and he trails his fingers up over my hips, painting my body with it.
“I’m honored to be your first client,” he says, gazing directly into my eyes, frank and hot as hell. “You’re a natural, Corbella.”
I’m still breathing hard, waiting for my heart to stop thrashing in my chest. Of course I’m a natural with you, I think, my head still swimming. But that’s because I wasn’t faking. I really am this turned on. This ready for him to fuck me.
He’s fucking amazing. Everything I never knew I wanted.
I spread my legs, wrap them around his waist, ready for the next level. Ready for him to take his pleasure from me, the way he gave me mine.
But he pushes back off of the bed. My legs fall to either side of him. He walks around me and I shiver. Maybe he wants me to give him a blowjob first. Maybe he’ll unzip now and I can finally see that cock of his, taste his cum in my mouth…
Instead, he leans over and undoes the belt around my wrists. Then he steps away from the bed and reaches for his shirt on the floor.
I sit up, rubbing my wrists. They’re a little red around the edges, sore in a tingly, falling-asleep sort of way. My whole body is, actually. As if I were sleeping before and now I’ve awakened.
“What are you doing?” I ask, unable to hide the disappointment in my voice as he tugs his shirt back over his head.
He turns to face me, smirking again. “We had a one-hour session. Our time is up.” He nods toward the clock on the wall, and my face flushes with heat as I realize he’s right. I completely lost track of time.
I lost track of everything, really.
“Right,” I reply, shaking my head, trying to clear it.
“You’ll find the payment in your bank account already,” he adds. The site we used sets up payments automatically, direct deposits so that you know clients won’t skip out on the bill.
I just earned $1,000 in one hour. It’s a high-end site that really vets its escorts. Yet still, it seems almost unfair that he just paid me for the hottest hour of my life.
I sit up and his eyes dart straight to my body again. I realize I’m still naked, just in my thong now. Yet somehow, I don’t feel self-conscious the way I normally would. After what he just did to me… It feels natural to stand naked before him. To revel in the way his gaze eats up my body.
“I’m glad you were my first client, Giovanni,” I tell him. After all, he was honest with me before. He deserves the same in response. “I couldn’t have asked for a better introduction.”
His mouth curls into a wider smile. “I’m glad, Corbella.” He’s lingering at this point. Not anxious to get out the door, even though he’s already dressed. I wonder if I stepped closer to him right now, reached for him, what would happen… Would he forget about our boundaries, about the time and the money, and just fuck me like he so clearly wants to?
Somehow, I doubt it. He’s too in control–not just of me, but of himself, too. He doesn’t let go, he doesn’t ever lose command.
Besides, those boundaries are important. I need to maintain them. This is a professional relationship, a working one. He’s hiring me for the hour, nothing more.
So why is he still here, watching me with those hungry eyes?
I open my mouth, to say what exactly, I’m not sure. But he speaks first.
“I’d like to see you again.”
Another shiver races along my spine. “I’d like that, too.”
“But until I do, I don’t want you seeing anyone else.”
I hesitate, my eyes widening. Shit.
I don’t want to see anyone else either–not if every session with Giovanni could be like this one, mind numbing, paralyzing and hot as fuck all at once. But I can’t promise him that. I’m doing this for a reason.
My face falls, and his brow creases when he sees me frown. “I’m sorry, Giovanni. I can’t promise
that.”
“I’ll pay you,” he counters, lifting an eyebrow. “Three thousand dollars a day, for the next three days. And then I’ll see you again.”
My mouth goes dry all of a sudden. I have other nibbles, other clients I’ve started talking to, but only a couple, and of those, I’m not sure they’ll come through. Even if I saw a client a day, I’d only be making one grand per day. And Giovanni’s offer is triple that.
But why? Why does he trust me so much, this woman he’s never met before? This… well, whore he hired off the internet?
“Why?” I ask, unable to help myself. “Why would you want to do that? You don’t know me.”
“Don’t I?” he counters, that single eyebrow still raised.
When I don’t reply because I’m not sure how to, he turns and reaches for the doorknob. “I’ll see you in three days, Corbella.”
It’s only once the door snaps shut behind him that I realize he never actually waited for my answer.
