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It’s for the best.
Having Peter as a client was too distracting. I stagnated. Constantly thinking about him. Obsessing about whether he recognized me. Making excuses for not embarking upon my Tryst List.
Everything changes tomorrow.
He may live in my fantasies, but I’m not going to let anything about that man interfere with me.
Ever. Again.
That’s a promise.
Chapter seven
Peter
The Next Morning
“Take them off.”
My voice echoes in the hotel suite as I approach beautiful, sassy Jordan from Seattle. My every fantasy come to life. Huge natural tits. Tiny little thing.
God, I can lift her with one arm. The positions I'll be able to fuck her in has me nearly coming in my pants.
Her hip rests against the arm of the couch. One bare leg is crossed over her knee. Discarded spiky silver sandals are haphazardly tangled on the floor below her.
She bites her finger. “Take what off?”
I stand in front of her, push her hair behind her shoulder and kiss her neck. “Actually, I’ll do it.”
“Do what?” She grabs my T-shirt, pulling me toward her. Uncrosses her legs. Smiles at me wickedly.
My hands run down the length of her waist, past her hips to the hem of her silky, white dress, which I grip and yank up, exposing her thin, muscular thighs and a hint of her white thong. “This.”
“Hmmm. That’s all?” She loops her arms around my neck and hovers her pink lips against mine. Widens her legs and hooks them around my thighs to draw me toward her.
“Not even close,” I whisper and press my mouth against hers.
A ragged moan escapes as our tongues meet. I glide my hands between her legs and slip my thumbs under the sliver of her panties finding her soaking wet as our mouths mash hungrily. She clings to my shirt and cries out when I find her clit. I kiss down her neck and wiggle my thumb until she’s squirming and panting, squeezing her thighs around my hips.
Hooking my fingers on her thong, I step back and slide it down her legs and toss it somewhere behind me. Gripping the edge of her dress with both hands, I tug it up and over her head. Her delectable breasts spill out. Groaning, I cup them and stroke her already taut, brown nipples into puckered peaks.
“You’re fucking perfect,” I rasp and kneel before her, gazing up into her emerald eyes.
She brazenly spreads her legs and rests her dainty, red-tipped toes on each shoulder. “No, I’m fucking wet.”
“Yes, you are. And you smell delicious.” Her pink pussy is inches from my face, glistening with arousal.
I lean over to lick her slit, drinking down her sweet nectar before settling in for my feast. She threads her fingers through my long hair and winds it around her wrist, keeping my mouth captive against her folds. I lap, suck and taste every part of her as I grasp her hips to hold her in place.
“Ohmygod.” Her legs are draped over my shoulders, and she leans across the back of the couch, watching me eat her out. “You’re so good at this.”
She pinches her nipples and my cock nearly explodes, but it’s not my time yet. I need to get her there first. I suck her swollen clit between my lips and flick my tongue back and forth against it, occasionally humming for good measure. It’s not long before her thighs start to quiver and her breath is labored in short little spurts.
I slip two fingers deep inside her and stroke her spongy little nerve bundle while I continue to devour her. Always watching to make sure she likes what I’m doing as I learn her body. She gasps and winces beautifully, bucking against my lips, seeking her pleasure.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Do you like this?” I kiss her clit and swirl my tongue against it. Plunge my fingers inside her.
“God, yes. Don’t stop.” She holds my face against her pussy. “Never stop. Oh holy shit.”
