Hell, I was worried that sleeping in the same room with Petra, in separate beds, was going to be difficult. But thesame bed?
I scrub my face with my hands, trying to ignore the memory of her mouth on my neck. Her whisper in my ear.I’m only going to say this once, but you did pay for the full GirlfriendTreatment, Barry. Normally, the experience includes unlimited sex.
Unlimited sex.
Those words have been rolling around my head like marbles for an hour. If I gave in to the temptation, I could lose myself in Petra for two days straight. A beautiful, interesting, funny, intelligent, compassionate virgin, mine for the taking. She doesn’t recoil at the scars on my face. My size and height and general bulkiness doesn’t turn her off…
Unless it’s all part of an act.
Sure, Petra doesn’t entertain clients on a regular basis, but she must know the ins and outs of professional escorting, since she grew up with it. What if she’s only humoring me? What if escorts are trained to do their job and be sensual, amiable, even when their client is…distasteful?
That must happen all the time.
This whole thing could be an act. A façade. Part of the fantasy.
Otherwise, why would this gorgeous creature imply that she wantsme?
My ribcage floods with hurt, but I ignore it, knowing I’m being ridiculous. I paid for a companion. That’s exactly what Petra is. She’s doing her job. If anything, she’s doing it a little too well. But even if she’s an escort for the weekend, I’mnotabandoning my morals.
Not even if we’re sleeping in the same bed.
Not even if my dick feels like it’s going to erupt every time she looks at me.
As the son of an unwed teenage mother, I know better than most how immoral it is for an older, experienced man to sleep with someone her age.
Good. Keep that in the front of your mind.
The bathroom door opens and I lunge to my feet, my heart sling-shotting up into my mouth. My plan is to get out of this bedroom as fast as possible. Down to the party where it’s safe and I won’t be tempted to fuck her.
Petra appears and my resolve shatters like a dropped vase.
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
Somehow, she looks classy and sexy, at the same time. She’s wearing this short, flowery little dress with a flouncy skirt, but from the waist up, the material is tight and structured. It lifts her tits and shows off just enough of those creamy slopes to be tasteful, but still mind-blowingly hot. Her legs appear buffed to a shine in the light, her delicate feet slipped into an equally delicate pair of high heels.
My cock is pounding with heat. Wicked, unspent need.
And that’s before I notice her hair, her makeup.
Gone is the copper cat eye. Instead, she’s made up like…a summer day. Hair loose, cheeks rosy and glowing. Her mouth…oh Jesus, her mouth. So pink and swollen.
I want to kiss her so badly, my tongue would roll out of my mouth if I managed to pry my fucking teeth apart.
“I told you I could pass for twenty-three,” she says, her voice a little halting. Shifting side to side, she looks down at her body. “Don’t you think so?”
I can’t speak. Only stare.
After a long stretch of silence, her throat works. “You don’t like it?”
Say something, idiot. “I like it.”
Her exhale of relief makes me feel terrible for taking too long to compliment her. “Oh. Good.”
“You’re perfect,” I all but growl. “I’m just nervous about the party. Seeing everyone.”
“Of course you are.” She comes toward me, one slow step at a time. “I promise everything is going to be fine. I’m your buffer, baby. And I can buff with the best of them.”
