Smoke and Mirrors (22 page)

H
e stood there,
in her vast bedroom, looming about like a shadow from the great beyond. It was rather spooky the way he looked inside of her, moved so slowly, observing, taking it all in. Her silver jewelry box with the stars and sun on top seemed to catch his eye the most, as if it took him back somewhere, reminded him of something he held dear. She moved past her black, canopied bed, pulled out a drawer of her cherry wood vanity and removed a long, silky, cranberry gown, then placed it delicately over her arm, as a butler would do a towel.

Extracting a slip of paper from her leather purse, she casually handed it to him. He looked at it inquisitively, then unfolded it. As he was reading, he gently scratched the side of his head. After a while, he handed it back to her, as coolly as he’d received it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper from his wallet, which he offered to her. She read the date—it was current, only one day old—then reviewed the information:

Name: Brent J. Patterson Gender: M

Test Results:

HIV Early Detection– Not detected– Negative

HIV– Non reactive– Negative

Herpes Simplex 1– <.90– Negative

Herpes Simplex 2 <.90– Negative

Chlamydia– Not detected– Negative

Gonorrhea– Not detected– Negative

Syphilis– Non reactive– Negative

Hepatitis B– Non reactive– Negative

Hepatitis C– Non reactive– Negative

She smiled and folded it back, handing it to him. They both were free of all sexually transmitted diseases.

“Please excuse me. I’m going to step into the restroom,” she announced as she removed herself, pointing the way. While inside, she wondered what the attractive, complicated and sexy as hell man was doing. She turned on the shower and took a fast one, then quickly dried off, tickled by the fact that she was a wee bit nervous. And a lot excited. Running the towel along her damp hair, she brushed the ends, slipped on her gown, and dabbed a couple drops of perfume behind her ears, then one above her belly button. She slid on her gown and checked herself in the mirror before opening the door and peeking out. There he was, sitting on the edge of her bed with absolutely
nothing
on.

Holy hell…

He sat there none the wiser, like a statue.
Magnificent man.
His limbs were exceptionally sculpted and long, the muscles taut against his skin, with room for nothing other than his precious blood. She envisioned running her fingertips through his perfectly coiffed, dark hair. His strong back muscles contorted as he turned and took a look at her, offering a gentle smile.

“Damn. You look beautiful,” he rasped, causing her pussy to playfully pulsate as she drew closer to him. He didn’t say ‘sexy’, didn’t say ‘fuckable’; he said, ‘
beautiful
.’ She tossed the coal black sheets back, a grin on her face, and slid in them, sandwiched between silky expectancy and satiny yearning. Then he slowly stood, giving her full access to view his ass. Muscular, tight…and just…damn…

She watched his reflection in the mirror while he ran his hand down his face as if thinking of something important, something crucial, monumental… and then, it all stopped abruptly when he entered her bathroom and closed the door softly behind him. Swallowing hard, she leaned over to her nightstand and turned on some music. Tycho’s, ‘Walk’ came on…

Perfect. Chillax…

Sighing, she leaned lazily on her elbow and lit a small dark violet candle. She stared into the flame, drifting into a daydream.

After a few moments, he emerged. She’d taken the liberty during his brief hiatus to light a couple sticks of crème brulee incense, too. It fit the mood, for she was feeling a mixture of emotions that were sweet, and full of smoke…

He rounded the other side of the bed and slicked the sheets back with a gentle hand, gliding inside, snuggling close enough to brush his arm against her skin. Even in a semi-lying position, he looked appetizingly tall. His damn feet almost reached the bottom of her California king-sized bed. Smoke was so tall, like a building, and his very appearance made a woman feel shielded from the whole damn world.

“How tall are—”

“I’m 6’5 and a half.” He cut her off at the pass, offering a tender smile.

He gently raised his left hand, and looked down at her lap as if he were contemplating his next move. His fingers lingered in midair, and then he placed his hand delicately on her sheet-covered thigh. Leaning in a bit closer, he placed his other hand against her cheek and stared into her eyes. She swallowed while the man’s bright blue gaze drifted from her eyelashes, down to her chin, and back up again, almost as if he were sketching her in his mind. She slowly closed her eyes, unable to take the way he was looking into her soul one second longer. But then he placed his lips against hers and rested them there, so soft, so gentle.

He moved his mouth slowly, varying the pressure, and she did the same.

“Mmmmm…”

His voice vibrated within her, soothing her, taking her

D

O

W

N…

Soon she felt his hand move from her face to the back of her head, drawing her even closer. He pulled slightly away, which caused her to open her eyes and catch the cool depths of his own. He stared at her with great intensity, ran his thumb leisurely up and down her lips. Without words, he expressed so much. Gently pulling her bottom lip down, he brought his lips to hers and slid his tongue inside of her mouth. Her pussy clamped several times, and she moaned. Smoke gave an answering groan while his tongue leisurely searched within. He ran his hand unhurriedly up and down her thigh, warming it under his delicious touch. His mouth tasted like spearmint…oh how she
loved
spearmint. As he continued to lavish her with romantic affection, she inhaled deeply, and became intoxicated off his scent.

His bare flesh smelled of vanilla and musk with a dash of cedar…
Delightful.
Gently taking her hand, he placed it on his chest. She shuddered when she felt his heartbeat playing a muscle-laced rhythm beneath his skin. Her fingers meandered down the center of his torso, up and down, playfully tiptoeing along his taut, masculine exterior. He covered her hand with his own, tracing her fingers as she continued to move up and down, while their mouths kept busy in their never-ending, sensual kiss. The man moved like water, smooth, to a rhythm—the flow so perfect no one could compete, no one could compare. She’d never had anyone touch her like that before, so light, gentle, yet with a touch of command all the same.

Like a true professional, he brought it to a slow end and sat back a bit, taking a look at her with a slightly mischievous glimmer in his eye.

“You kiss well,” she offered, her hand still moving along his body.

“Thank you. So do you.”

A part of her wanted to damn near chuckle. The idea of it all, so damn romantic and preposterous all at the same time. Here she was, a former prostitute, now madam, lying in bed with a seasoned pimp. He was the very thing she should have been running from, but it felt one hundred percent right. She removed one strap of her gown and then the other, exposing her breasts. He wasted no time in taking inventory as his sight left her eyes and went down to her bosom. Cupping one, he ran his thumb tenderly over the nipple. Before she knew what hit her, he swooped low like an eagle and engulfed the other in his warm mouth, causing her to instantly moan and fall back, enjoying his oral skill. He drew harder on her nipple, his cheeks hollowed as he made a meal of her body.

He kept her breast in his mouth, while gently kneading the other, his large hand completely covering it.
This is the damndest thing…
She felt so relaxed, as if he were administering a deep tissue massage, spa quality. He reversed, switching to the other breast while rubbing his nimble fingers along her flesh. She trembled when he sucked a bit harder then wrapped his muscular arm around her waist, drawing her impossibly closer until he’d had his fill. A few moments later, he lifted his head and studied her a while before slowly sliding her gown, that was now bunched around her waist, past her thighs, knees and feet, until he was able to toss it to the side. He picked her up as if she weighed the same as a bird feather, and placed her gently smack dab in the middle of the bed, situating her just as he wished. As he looked into her eyes, she could have sworn that, for a split second, her damn body shut down, heart and all. The intensity, the way his indigo orbs glowed… She gasped when he shoved her legs apart, then slowly, teasing her to no end, he ran his fingertips gently, oh so gently, against her saturated pussy folds.

“Ahhhhh….” His strokes were pure perfection.

“Mmmm.” She writhed above the sheets, bunching them beneath her impassioned body, and her hips began to buck to his touch. Soon she felt his long finger slide inside of her, and then another. “Ohhhhhh!” she moaned louder, as she moved in rhythm with his tactile pussy embrace.

“Damn you’re so wet, Pussycat…”

He drew his fingers together inside of her, creating a come hither motion, working her up just right.

“Ahhhh…” The intensity built inside her like a slow starting furnace, soon to set the entire place aflame. “Ahhhh!” Opening her eyes, she caught a glimmer in his magnificent blue eyes, paired with a roguish smirk.

“You like that, baby?” he said smoothly, that deep voice making the experience all the more tantalizing. He knew the damn answer, but he wanted to hear her scream it out loud, stroke his ego in a way that he deserved.

“Yes…yes!” She repeated, gasping and grinding even harder into his hand, losing her mind. Before she knew what hit her, he dropped down, almost completely out of sight. With his free hand, he opened her up, then swirled his tongue delicately over her clit.

“Ohhhhh, shit…” Her eyes fluttered then rolled back as he worked her up and over the edge.

His fingers kept moving at an even pace while his tongue sped up, darting and flicking against her bud in rapid stride. Her ears burned with his amplified groans, sounding as if he were enjoying it even more than she.

“Your pussy tastes like fuckin’ candy…” He spoke gruffly, bringing her even closer to the point of no return. “So damn good… When you’re ready, don’t jerk away. Climax in my mouth…”

Oh no, he did not just say that!

“Don’t hold back…let me taste
you…
”

Every time he spoke, his warm breath bathed her pussy; every time he uttered a damn word, his deep voice vibrated her pussy and made the experience all the more surreal.

“I’ve wanted to jam my face in your pussy since you cursed me out at the bank. Make a goddamn deposit in my fuckin’ mouth, Pussycat! I wanna cash the fuck
in
!”

And that was it. She screamed out, bucking against him.

“Ahhhh! Ahhhh, oh God!”

His strength alarmed her as he reached for her gyrating body and slammed her back down onto the bed, giving her what she’d bargained for and then some. She twisted her pillow in her palms as the delightful contractions grabbed her pussy and refused to turn it loose. He kept his head buried between her legs, sucking on her a bit harder, and working his fingers within her until she began to slow down to a calm and relaxed state. Gentling her, he lightly massaged her trembling legs as he rested his head on her thigh. The light flutter of his lashes brushed against her, tickling her so. After a few moments, he got to his knees, climbed up her body, and lay snugly beside her, wearing a crooked grin. In his eyes, it seemed she could see the man’s entire world. He was broken, yet glued together time and time again, like a beloved old ceramic vase. In a way, it was like looking in the mirror.

He tenderly kissed her lips and ran his hand gently along her chin as they continued to stare at one another. Paris wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him closer, and kissed him once more, sampling her own flavor along his taste buds, savoring the salty sweetness again and again. She eyed him, unable to restrain herself for a second longer, then found herself straddling his legs, falling in love with his body, the tight skin, dips and valleys of his manly form. He was a sight to behold…and so was his thick cock which now posed in full view for her ogling pleasure. It stood erect, the head wide and length generous, letting her know she was going to feel his ultimate power when he pushed inside of her. She bit into her lower lip, anticipating it,
wanting
it so. He brought his knees up, foreseeing her next move as she situated between his thighs.

“Mmmmm!” he moaned loud, his head falling back onto the pillow while she took hold of his shaft with both hands and enveloped the swollen head of his cock inside her mouth. She slowly released it, then repeated the action. Gliding her tongue back and forth seductively over the slit, his groans turned deeper, richer, and his pelvis began to thrust ever so slightly. Paris added more pressure as she held the big damn thing a bit tighter, occasionally looking at him while she slurped it up and down like the professional that she was.

“I love your dick, Smoke…” And she meant that shit. If he could take it off and leave it with her when he was away, she’d be a happy camper…

“You…love it…baby…” he uttered weakly as his eyes rolled.

“Love at first sight… I can’t wait…to feel it…inside of me…”

“Uhhhh…” His eyes fluttered as he grinded harder against her mouth, twisting the bed sheets in his hand. He occasionally looked down at her, only to lazily turn away, his damn face saying all he had to say. The man was mired in a state of utter ecstasy. That is how a whore knew she had serious skills. If she could make a pimp, who was accustomed to having sex all day every day, roll his damn eyes and twitch during oral sex—she knew she was doing a damn good job. After all, BJs were her specialty, and though she hadn’t given one in a mighty long time, it was like riding a bicycle. She released him, paused for a quick spell and looked down at his long, perfect feet. She wanted her fucking ego stroked, so she went for the proof of purchase. Suppressing a laugh, she took note of the man’s toes curled so tight—it was a wonder they didn’t snap off and roll away.