Escorted (7 page)

Lori wondered
with a weird little clench if men were different. Or if Ander had been
victimized in some way, physically or emotionally, in the past.

“Everything all
right?” Ander asked thickly, mid-thrust.

Realizing she’d
let her mind wander at an inopportune time, she blinked up at him. “Yeah.
Sorry. Everything’s good. Keep going.”

He hesitated,
so she began to pump up her hips, trying to match his earlier tempo. This
appeared to convince him, so he began to thrust again. This time, she watched
him, fascinated by the tension on his face and the focused look in his blue-gray
eyes as he stared down at her.

They moved together
well, she thought, and she did her best to synchronize the rocking of her
pelvis with his. She could already feel a soreness in her channel, but it
wasn’t bad. Ander was taking it pretty easy on her.

“Should I do
anything else?” she asked, feeling a little breathless again. She knew she
wasn’t going to come, but there was something exciting about watching the tension
coil tighter and tighter in Ander’s face and body.

“You’re good,”
he muttered. “You’re good.”

She was clinging
to his shoulders, and she acutely felt something tickling her wrist. Shifting
her eyes, she saw one of her brown hairs tangled in her hand. She clenched
unconsciously in response to the tickling and wriggled her fingers, trying to
brush the hair away.

“That’s good,”
he grunted, jerking his head to the side abruptly. “You can keep doing that.”

Lori blinked
once, keeping her expression blank. She couldn’t imagine how her little hand
jiggle on his shoulder had pleased him. Maybe men really
were
different
than women. He’d done a remarkable job of pleasing her, though, and if he liked
it she would do it. So she rippled her fingers lightly along his shoulder, as
she’d done before.

Ander blinked
once, almost exactly as she had. Then he made a choked sound in his throat.
Then another.

She gasped in
shock and bewilderment as his weight suddenly lowered on top of her. His elbows
had buckled and he was abruptly much closer than before. His face buried in her
neck, he made more of those choked sounds and his body shook against hers.

Nothing, not
even her orgasm, had felt as good as this did—the inexplicable, uninhibited
collapse and his shuddering body against hers. His hips jerked with a few,
clumsy, unpracticed thrusts as he huffed, his hot breath blowing against her
skin.

For one dazed
moment, she thought her little finger wiggle had snapped his control. But it
only took a few seconds for her to process what was happening.

He was
laughing. Trying desperately to hide and to stifle it, but he was definitely
laughing.

“What’s so
funny?” she demanded.

“Nothing.” With
impressive restraint, he grew still and straightened his arms, pulling himself
off of her again. “I’m sorry. Nothing was funny.” Only his eyes and his faintly
twitching lips belied the word.

She narrowed
her eyes. “You were laughing at me.”

“I wasn’t
laughing,” he said, eyes wide now and mouth relaxed. “Sometimes, no matter how
hard to try to control myself, something feels so good that I—”

Lori gave an
outraged huff and interrupted, “What a load of crap! I know laughing when I
hear it.” Then she realized suddenly why he was lying to her. Accidentally
laughing at a client during sex must be a nightmare scenario for him. His job
was to please her, no matter what. So her voice softened as she said, “I’m not
going to get mad. I mean it. But if I did something stupid, I’d like to know
about it.”

Ander let out a
breath, and his mouth gave one more little twitch. “I was laughing, but not at
you. You didn’t do anything stupid .It was my fault. My directions were
unclear. When I said you could keep doing that, I didn’t mean the hand. You’d
squeezed around me at the same time. That’s what I meant.”

Lori processed
this. “Oh, I get it.” She choked on a laugh herself. “No wonder you lost it.”
The more she thought about it, the funnier it got. As she laughed softly, she
gasped out, “And I thought you were some weirdo who got off from a little tap
on your shoulder.”

Ander had
himself fully under control now, but he smiled as she giggled. “Sorry about that.”

“No, don’t
apologize,” she said. “I told you I don’t want to pretend. Did you want to keep
going, or have you lost your momentum?” He still felt very hard inside her, but
the interruption must have distracted him.

“That’s up to
you.”

“I said I’d
like you to come, if you think you can.”

“I can. I’m
almost there.”

Logically, she
had trouble believing him, since surely laughing at her silliness would have
been a turn off. But when he began to thrust again and she tried to pump her
hips and squeeze her inner muscles around his cock, he was clearly not as
controlled as he’d been earlier. His features twisted slightly and his breathing
became louder. His thrusts got faster, then a little jerky.

She was
definitely going to be sore afterwards, but there was something oddly pleasing,
oddly compelling, about having a hot, hard, focused man about to lose it
between her legs.

As silly as it
sounded, she couldn’t help but feel a little proud of herself.

Ander jerked
his head to the side and froze abruptly, the tension transforming on his face.
He took a few ragged breaths and pushed against her a few final times.

He pulled out
before she could fully process the alterations of his body—the softening
muscles and relaxing tension. He carefully secured the condom as he slid his
cock free, and the move made an embarrassing sucking sound and rubbed her raw
inner walls painfully.

“Are you all
right?” he asked, rolling over to swing his legs over the side of the bed. His
eyes scanned her closely.

“Yeah,” she
said honestly, “A little sore, but it was really good. Thank you.”

He gave her a
little smile. “I’m going to take care of this, if that’s all right.”

At her
affirmation, he picked up the vibrator and went into the bathroom to dispose of
the condom. She heard water in the sink and figured he was cleaning up the
vibrator while he was there.

Lori pulled
down her chemise and stretched her stiff legs. Then she had a private giggle
over her successful devirgining.

She knew it
would have been better had she had an emotional connection with the man. She
knew there was something missing in doing it the way she had. The sex had been
good, but she knew it wasn’t a lie that sex was better with someone you loved.
She wrote romance novels. As silly or high-blown as some of them were, romance
writers at least understood the importance of love.

She’d done this
on her own terms, though and the heavy weight of anxiety that had always been
part of her thoughts on sex had now completely dissipated.

Ander returned
to the room with a wet washcloth, which he used to gently clean between her
legs. When she’d thanked him and he’d returned the washcloth to the bathroom,
she invited him back to bed.

She had him
until midnight, and she intended to take advantage of it. He stretched out
beside her, rolling on his side and propping his head up on one bent arm. He
was completely naked, and he was showing the long lines and rippling muscles of
his body to their best advantage.

Lori stared at
him in admiration for a minute until she realized he was posing for her. As
always, the act was very subtle, sophisticated—nothing crude or gaudy about it.
But he knew what he was doing. Women must leer at him all the time.

Because she
wanted to talk to him and not get distracted, she leaned over and grabbed his
boxers off the floor and tossed them over to him.

“Did you have
questions for me?” he asked, pulling on his boxers. “Did you think it went
well?”

“Yes. It went
very well. Thanks so much being careful and taking your time. I can’t imagine
it going better.”

Ander’s eyes
narrowed as he studied her face. “There’s something you want to ask me.”

There was. A
foolish, nagging question at the very back of her mind.

“Ask me.”

So Lori blurted
it out, “Do you think I’ll be any good at it? I mean, I seemed to mess up a
lot. And there was the stupid thing with the hand. If I don’t have you there
guiding me through every step, do you think I’ll be any good at it?”

To her relief, Ander
didn’t brush the question off. He paused as he considered it, and then he met
her eyes soberly. “I don’t think any of that reflects your sexual capacities.
You were nervous at first. And, even when you got over that, you were still a
little self-conscious, I think.” He slanted her a look, as if checking her
expression. Maybe to make sure she wasn’t offended. “When people are
self-conscious, they tend to fall into a defined role, something that will make
them feel safe. You took on the role of learner, which might be why you kept
wanting directions. But once you’re past that, you’re going to be just fine.”

She let out a
breath, oddly comforted by his matter-of-fact answer. He hadn’t been flattering
her or trying to delude her into believing she was some sort of sex goddess.
He’d told her his honest opinions.

Rubbing her
belly absently, she thought about his words. She thought about them for a long
time. The she finally said, “You know, I think you’re right about that
self-consciousness thing. I never thought about it before, but that is what
people do. How did you get so smart?”

Ander cocked an
eyebrow at her. “My job provides me with a wide variety of experiences with
human nature.”

She snorted. “I
guess so.” Still thinking about Ander’s comments, she put a few more pieces
together in her mind. She mused, “You know, I think maybe I intuitively knew
that about self-conscious people even before you mentioned it. In one of my
books, I had the heroine feel really self-conscious about her appearance. And she
always acted—” Lori broke off, noticing a distinct expression of curiosity on Ander’s
face.

For some obvious
reasons, she wasn’t planning to tell Ander about her bestselling alternate
identity. She used a penname for a reason, and she was very careful about
keeping her private life private—especially something like this.

“You’re a
writer?” he asked. He appeared genuinely interested.

“Yeah,” she
admitted, figuring it was all right as long as he didn’t know her penname. “I
write novels. Romance novels.” She snickered. “Pretty funny, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.
I don’t think one needs vast experience with sex to write a love scene in a
romance novel.”

“Hey,” she
said, immediately bristling at any apparent slam on her genre. “Don’t be snide
about romance novels. Some of them are silly, but there are novels in every
genre that are silly.”

“I’m not
slamming romance novels,” he assured her with a half-smile. “I’ve read a lot of
them myself. Most women who come to me want to have their romantic fantasies
fulfilled. It’s emotional as much as sexual for them. Romance novels are one of
the best expressions of those romantic fantasies.”

“Wow,” she
breathed, eyeing him with faint awe. “You really do your research.”

He lifted his
shoulder in a half-shrug. “Of course.”

Irresistibly
compelled, she asked, “So who’s your favorite romance writer?”

Ander thought
for a moment. Then he made a face. “I guess it will sound clichéd, since she’s
everyone else’s favorite too. But Claire Kent is probably the best I’ve read.
She gives her characters a humanness that pushes them beyond the average. Plus,
she has a great sense of humor.”

With effort, Lori
kept her face perfectly bland. Claire Kent was her penname. And she was
thrilled beyond measure by the casual, thoughtful compliments Ander had just
given her writing. He obviously didn’t know he was talking about her. He looked
leisurely and reflective.

Which implied
he really meant what he said.

“I like her
too, of course,” Lori said. “But everyone can’t write bestsellers. Some of the
rest of us are pretty good too.”

Ander chuckled.
“If you give me a couple of titles, I’ll be happy to read your books. Maybe I
already have.”

“I doubt it.
But who else do you like?”

Ander told her
about some of the romance writers he liked, and Lori had a fabulous time
quizzing and arguing with him about his opinions on one of her favorite topics.
Before she knew it, she glanced at the clock and saw it was eleven forty-five.

She gasped.
“Wow. It’s almost midnight.”

Ander glanced
over, and she could have sworn she saw a faint flash of surprise on his face
too. “Did you want to do anything else in the last fifteen minutes?”

“No. I’ve
definitely had all I can take for tonight. You can take a shower, if you want.”

Ander thanked
her. Then picked up his clothes and went into the bathroom. Lori pulled up the
covers, deciding she felt a little chilly.

When Ander
returned, fully clothed and characteristically cool and polished again, he
picked up the lube, extra condom, and the DVD and returned them to his case.

Lori got up and
joined him by the table. “Thanks again. I mean it. I can’t imagine anyone else
making it as easy for me as you did.”

“You’re
welcome. I hope you feel fully satisfied.”

“Definitely.
You’ll get another glowing referral, if anyone asks me about you.”

He flashed her
a quick smile, and she slid the envelope of cash toward him. As he put the money
in his pocket, he said, “You can always schedule another engagement. There’s
plenty more we can do.”

“No, thanks,”
she said mildly, stifling her urge to snicker at his excellent business skills.
“I just wanted to do this. I’m good now.”