No Regrets (18 page)

Josh groaned deep in his throat—his face contorted with pleasure—and he moved restlessly beneath me, until he finally grabbed my hips and held my still. “Baby,” he said, in a thick, breathless voice, “I’m about to lose it.”

I pulled off him slightly. “That would have been okay.” I gave his lower lip a little tug. But since I wasn’t quite there myself, I figured we might as well do it the old-fashioned way.

I straightened up and lined his cock up at my entrance, sinking onto him with a pleased sigh. When he was fully sheathed inside me, I draped myself down over his chest. Wanting to kiss him. Wanting to be as close to him as possible.

I rocked over him gently, my breasts pressed up against his chest, nudging him up enough to twine my arms around his neck. I felt tender and languid, and, although I did want an orgasm, I didn’t really feel like riding him after all. It had been a long day, and I wasn’t sure I had the energy.

“Josh, I don’t want to be on top. Do you mind?”

His hands caressed my back, my butt, and then settled on my thighs. Holding my legs around him, he murmured, “Of course not. Hold on,” and he rolled us onto our sides.

I smiled and wrapped my arms and legs around him.

“This good?” he asked softly, pressing little kisses on the side of my mouth.

“Yeah,” I breathed, holding his warm, familiar body as tightly as I could. “It’s perfect.”

We kept kissing as he started to thrust, and I hummed in my throat at the lovely friction. We moved together slowly, leisurely, in a known, instinctive rhythm. And I could touch him everywhere. Could feel him everywhere.

Would be happy to stay like this forever.

Our mouths sought each other with unhurried hunger. Our tongues slid and stroked and teased. Our bodies rocked in synchronized pleasure, my hips meeting each of his thrusts.

“Leslie,” Josh murmured against my mouth, “Baby, can you come?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, my fingers digging into his back as the tension grew tighter, richer. “Oh, yeah.”

The slow thrusting of his pelvis became a little more urgent, his body growing suddenly tense in my arms. “God, Leslie, I love you,” he said hoarsely, one hand squeezing the flesh of my ass and the other buried in my hair.

I whimpered and clung to him, tightening my thighs around him as I felt my orgasm crest. I wanted to writhe and grind against him but resisted the impulse. Sustained the gentle motion of our lovemaking. “Josh. Josh, I love you too.”

His hard flesh stroked me intimately, moved me, filled me. And after three more thrusts I arched against him. Shattered for a few exquisite moments. Then felt the wash of healing surety that followed the waves of pleasure. I held on to him.

Was broken and remade in his arms.

And Josh was with me. Coming as well. Choking out my name as he froze and then shook through his climax. I felt him pulsing inside me. Felt his hot release. Felt him soften at last as the spasms finally passed.

Then he was kissing me again, and I realized that tears were streaming from my eyes. I moved one of my hands to the back of his head, so I could stroke his thick hair. “Josh,” I whispered, against his mouth. Just his name. Nothing more.

His shifted his mouth from my lips to my cheek, and he lapped gently at my tears. “Leslie, I’m sorry I didn’t love you sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t give you all of this sooner.”

My heart jumped in surprise, in pleasure. “It was soon enough. You’re here now,” I told him, holding him snugly between my legs. “We’re here now. Together. If we’ve made it this far, I think we’ll be okay.”

Josh didn’t reply with words, but he pulled my hand up from his chest and pressed a kiss on the palm.

I smiled at him. And then—a silly whim overtaking me—I grabbed his hand and kissed the palm too.

Josh chuckled, and I could feel the vibrations of his laughter all over, from his breath against my skin to the way his body shuddered against me. Then he sobered and met my eyes deeply. Said, “I’ll never not love you again.”

I gave him a quirky smile. “Don’t tell me you’re going to write me a poem now.”

He shook with suppressed laughter. “No sappy poems. That’s a promise. Just everything else.”

“And that’s exactly what I want.
You
.”

Smiling, I pulled him into a hug, not needing to speak anymore. We lay together until we both fell asleep.

Lucy had finished her Greenie and was already snoring.

***

If you enjoyed No Regrets, please consider leaving a review and telling others about it. You might also check out the excerpt from Escorted on the next pages. If you’d like to stay up-to-date on sales and new releases, then you can sign up for my monthly newsletter, in which I share news for both my Noelle Adams and Claire Kent pennames. You can sign up through the link on
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Glancing at her watch, she noticed it was just after three o’clock. Surely this guy wouldn’t be late for a potential new client.

She was looking at the entrance with a slightly peeved expression when a voice startled her out of her impatience.

“Lori.”

She jerked her head around and inexplicably saw the compelling, bald man standing next to her table with his cup of coffee. She blinked up at him, wondering vaguely if he’d noticed her leering at him.

“Is it Lori?”

She nodded mutely.

The man smiled—an urbane, sensual smile that ignited even his blue-gray eyes. He reached a hand out to her in greeting. “I’m Ander.”

Lori’s mouth dropped open and she gaped at him.

While she was normally a friendly, outgoing person who handled social situations with ease, she was already insecure about this meeting. And her shock at having the random man she’d admired turn out to be the one with whom she had this particular appointment left her speechless and completely discombobulated.

Ander’s elegant eyebrows lifted slightly. “Ander Lourdes. We were scheduled to meet, right?”

She had to assume the name was a professional appellation. Surely no loving father would have saddled a little boy with a name like that. The boy would have no choice but to go into the profession Ander had obviously chosen.

“Yes,” she said at last, belatedly pulling herself together. She stood up and shook his hand. His grip was warmer than she’d expected. He looked so cool and polished that she’d thought his hand would be a cooler temperature. “Sorry. It’s nice to meet you.”

He nodded politely and smiled again. “Do you want to talk here?”

Lori glanced nervously at the other seat at her table. She definitely wanted to meet with him where there were plenty of people around, but the kind of conversation they’d be having wasn’t one you wanted to carry on with dozens of ears within range.

“We could walk over to the park,” he suggested with easy courtesy. “Still a public place, but not so crowded.”

She agreed and grabbed her purse and mocha. She’d made a point of not dressing up for this meeting, so she was wearing her favorite pair of jeans and a dark green vintage jacket of crushed velvet that matched her eyes. She’d pulled her shoulder-length brown hair back in a low ponytail and wore no make-up except mascara and lip-gloss. She’d instinctively known that dressing up would make her even more nervous.

As they crossed the street, Lori asked her companion, “So what kind of name is Ander?” She wanted to make casual conversation and she’d genuinely wanted to know the answer since Sabrina first put this man’s name in front of her as a suitable candidate.

Ander’s mouth tilted up on one side. “It’s short for Alexander.”

“So it’s your real name?” It might be too personal a question for this context, but she’d always been overly curious.

“Ander is. My last name has been changed.” He gave a huff of dry laughter that she found remarkably appealing. “To protect the innocent.”

She snickered a little, instinctively drawn to wit in any form. His answer had been particularly clever—as it remained ambiguous as to which party in question was innocent. “So were you named for Alexander the Great or Alexander Graham Bell?”

He gave her a curious look, as if he were mildly startled at her nosy questions. But before she could start to feel self-conscious about what might be inappropriate behavior on her part for meetings such as these, he said, “The Great. My father would never have named a child after someone as innocuous as an inventor, however brilliant the inventor happened to be.”

“Ah,” she replied, “So your father liked the warriors.”

“Exactly.” Idly, Ander put a hand on her back to guide her over to an empty bench in the city park.

Lori sat on the bench and looked up at him, noting that he was ridiculously handsome in the sunlight, with a breeze blowing against his dark clothes. “I suppose your father must be especially proud of you then,” she said wryly.

Even she knew—as soon as she spoke the words—that the comment was far too presumptuous for first acquaintance. She bit her lip and felt a pang of guilt and embarrassment.

To her relief, Ander didn’t look offended. He just looked off in the distance and murmured, “Oh, he’s proud all right.”

The note of bitterness told Lori something about this man’s feelings for his father. There was a whole story there , a mystery to unravel.

But it was none of Lori’s business and wasn’t at all what she was here for. Pulling herself back to the purpose of this meeting, she felt a new wave of self-consciousness.

What the hell was she doing here?

Ander sat down next to her on the bench and sipped his coffee, his expression becoming professional again. “I always meet with prospective clients to ensure we’re on the same page before we schedule an engagement.”

Lori nodded, dropping her eyes to stare at her hands in her lap.

“Did you have any questions about the prices your friend explained to you?” Ander asked. “You’ll pay for an entire evening. That’s the base price. I offer nothing lower than that.”

She looked up at him, frowning. He didn’t have a website like some escorts, instead relying on personal referrals, but details Sabrina had gotten from the women she’d talked to were quite clear. She was a professional woman. Not an idiot. “Yes, I was able to understand the services you offer and what you charge for them,” she said, her tone a little snippy.

His mouth twitched, so slightly she almost didn’t catch it. “Good. I just wanted to make it clear that you pay for the entire evening, whether or not you use it. I don’t hire myself out by the hour.”

For some reason, his dry tone made her want to snicker again. She stifled it, in case he would mistake it for mockery. “Understood.”

“We can do whatever you like for the evening. I can act as escort, play a part if you want or provide general companionship. If you’re interested in anything sexual, that will cost extra.”

Lori couldn’t believe she was sitting here, in the middle of a park in downtown Seattle, having this conversation. Her cheeks burned involuntarily, but she wasn’t as mortified as she’d expected. Ander was so business-like and matter-of-fact about the situation that it helped Lori feel that way too.

“I thought I made my interests clear when we talked on the phone,” she said.

Ander nodded. “Of course. The prices differ for oral on you, oral on me, and full intercourse.”

A nagging question that had been bugging her for a few days prompted her to ask, “Who would pay you that much money for you to get the blow job?”

Again, that slight twitch of his mouth. She wasn’t even sure it meant anything—his expression was generally so calm as to be stoic. But she found that occasional little quiver of his mouth the most appealing thing about him. “Women have different desires when they make use of my services. Some find giving more thrilling than receiving. Some simply want the practice.”

Lori thought about that for a moment. It was something she’d never even considered before.

Ander cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to him. “Perhaps you can give me a little information about your goals for this engagement.”

She nodded. “Right. Well, I sure as hell wouldn’t pay this much money for a date.” She took a breath. Summoned all her fortitude and courage. “I want to have sex.”

“Yes, but what are your goals for the sex? Are you looking for a particular mood or brand of excitement? Do you just want to relieve tension? Get something you can’t get from other partners? I’m not trying to pry into your personal motivations, but I need a little direction if we’re to make this a successful engagement.”

“Right.” She shifted on the bench. Told herself she would be paying this man a lot of money a few days from now so she had nothing to be embarrassed about. And surely he’d encountered a lot of stranger things in his line of work. “I want to have sex because I haven’t had it before. Yet.”

***

You can find out more about Escorted
here
.

Claire has been writing romance novels since she was twelve years old. She has a PhD in British literature and, when she's not writing, she teaches English at the university level.

She also writes romance novels under the penname Noelle Adams (
noelle-adams.com
). If you would like to contact Claire, please check out her website (
clairekent.com
) or email her at
[email protected]
.

Other Books by Claire Kent

Escorted

Breaking

Nameless

Christening

Incarnate

Seven