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That was what scared her most: losing her identity forever. That bastard had already taken her security, now he was stealing her name too? It wasn’t fair.
She rubbed the prickled skin rising on her arms. Maybe her cousin had been right; this plan was stupid. Life could be dangerous, no matter where she went or what she called herself. Why was she running anyway? She wasn’t the running type; she didn’t own a single pair of jogging shoes. And if she did die, at least she’d have her own name on her headstone.
Before she could stress further and back out of this crazy idea completely, the door to the clerk’s office opened and a middle-aged man peered into the hall. “Miss Nolan?”
Teresa’s heart leaped. That could’ve very well been the last time anyone ever addressed her as Miss Nolan again.
Her mom took her hand and stood, urging Teresa along. Teresa gulped. This was really happening. Her life was changing irrevocably. She wasn’t even going to be Teresa anymore. A month from now, she’d be…she’d be…
Well, who knew what she’d be?
Mason
Waterford, Florida
One Month Later
Typically, I didn’t mind dogs. They were cool little creatures who just wanted to be loved and fed. No beef with that.
But I couldn’t say I was extremely fond of the miniature brown fluff ball with a pink bow in its fur as it pranced around my knees and yipped at me with an incessantly high-pitched bark. Then it snapped at the leash that hung from my neck, gagging me.
To be fair, the leash probably belonged to the mongrel, as I’m sure did the bejeweled collar that at present hugged my own throat.
Honestly, I guess I couldn’t blame the mutt at all. It would confuse me too if some strange dude in nothing but a red Speedo was wearing my things as he knelt between the open thighs of my naked owner and licked her pussy. I got you, pooch. I really, truly understood; this was some weird shit. There was no denying that. But, gah, give a guy a break. I was trying to get a job done.
The owner finally—thank God—grew tired of her pet’s commotion, and called, “Here, Gidget! Up here, girl.”
Complying, Gidget hopped onto the deck chair and danced in a circle on the woman’s bare thigh until she found the perfect spot to plant her butt. Tongue lolling in exhausted contentment, Gidget continued watching me go down on her owner from an entirely new angle, which was eyeball to eyeball with me. I blinked, unable to tear my gaze from the dog’s, and wondered if I was stuck in the twilight zone.
Around us, the sun blazed against my naked back from a bright azure sky as the water from the in-ground pool three feet away lapped lazily against its sidewalls. Grit from the stone patio under us bit into my knees while my tongue started to cramp and my jaw began to lock.
If my client could just come sometime this century, that’d be great.
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep this up, especially when Gidget leaned forward and tried to imitate me by licking the side of my face and right into my ear, giving me a wet willy.
Oh, God. Really, dog, really?
It was a good thing I was only here for oral and not penetration; I’m pretty damn certain I wouldn’t have been able to get it up at this point if I tried.
When a nearby phone rang—the client’s, not mine—I lifted my head, beyond ready for a break, and wiped the back of my hand across my mouth.
But my client pursed her lips with disapproval and lifted her eyebrows over the top of her sunglasses. “I didn’t say you could stop.” She gave a tug on the leash, jerking my face back between her legs.
Jesus.
I caught my hand on the ground, scraping my palm against the abrasive stone to brace myself and keep from impaling her clit with my nose.
Okay, then. I guess I was supposed to keep going while she talked on the phone. Message received.
She answered her call, and I went back to licking, slipping my tongue between fleshy folds and massaging the little muscle inside. Her musky scent clogged my nostrils while her flavor filled my mouth. She was definitely turned on, even though that confounded me. I couldn’t find anything erotic about any of this.
It must’ve been a friend on the other end of the line. They talked about setting up a lunch date to go shopping together. My client mentioned her husband wouldn’t be home until Tuesday, and then she let out a throaty laugh as she ran her fingers through Gidget’s fur before bumping her hips sharply against my mouth, nearly cutting the inside of my lip open with my teeth, as she reminded me not to stop my services.
I have no idea how, but I think talking on the phone while I ate her out turned her on more. Maybe she had some kind of voyeuristic fetish and this felt like her friend was somehow watching her get off. I don’t know. But she grew wetter and her body began to strain against me, the muscles in her thighs squeezing around my face while her grip on my leash pulled the collar tighter around my throat.
Strangely enough, the inflection in her voice remained the same. I’m sure her friend on the other end of the line had no idea what was happening to her.
This was definitely one controlled woman.
