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Blush(8)

By´╝ÜCherry Adair



She struggled to leverage herself up on her elbows, but he merely pressed his hand between her breasts and gently pushed her back down. “Let me up,” she said, hating him because her voice sounded desperate. She had BOB upstairs. In two minutes or less, with her eyes closed and imagining what this man must have been, she’d have relief. “I’ll pay you, and you can be on your way.”

She didn’t even notice that he’d freed his impressive length from his jeans with his free hand until he rammed himself to the hilt deep inside her, filling her, impossibly thick and deep.

Mia climaxed instantly.

• • •

She woke at six the next morning—bare-ass naked on the kitchen island. Throwing an arm over her eyes, she groaned. “Oh. My. God.”

Unfortunately, she didn’t have amnesia. Last night played in Technicolor in her brain, and her body ached deliciously. Casually she lifted her elbow to look around to confirm that she was alone and the man of her well-lived fantasy was not there.

Amazingly, she’d fallen asleep exactly as he’d left her. Legs dangling over the edge of the counter, a buffet for his dining pleasure. And holy God, had he dined!

Dined and dashed apparently. There was no sign of him. And it wasn’t as though she could yell his name. Mia had no frigging idea what it was.

Her only nod to being dressed was having an arm in one sleeve of her silk robe. One hundred percent vanilla all the way, in her whole life she’d never had sex anywhere but in her bed, lights off. Never done anything more adventurous sexually than receive oral. Once. She was a missionary position woman. As for oral—she preferred being the giver than the receiver. She liked to be the one in control. And a woman was never more in control than when she had a guy’s penis in her mouth.

She liked sex. Sex was good. Hence hiring someone to take care of the needs a BOB just couldn’t meet. She’d wanted heat. The friction of skin.

She’d gotten that. In spades.

Last night had been . . . incredible, shocking, incendiary. But last night she’d been on the receiving end, and she’d been so aroused, so turned on by him, there hadn’t been time to be embarrassed or have second thoughts about her loss of control.

It took one split second with him inside her for her to get over the anger he had inspired. Once she was over it she’d been receptive to anything and everything he did. Dear Lord, the man knew how to give, and obtain, pleasure.

She’d never felt more vulnerable in her life. Exposed, wanting. Needing. Her, all but naked, and him, merely unzipping his jeans before taking her. She’d somehow just given him all the power, and God! It had been liberating, and a powerful release of all her inhibitions.

Now, as she rolled off the center island in the brightly lit kitchen, Mia felt both embarrassed and shocked at how uninhibited she’d been. Now she had third and fourth thoughts about hiring him.

She was supposed to call the shots. She always called the shots. With him in power, she felt more alive, more aware of her body, than she’d ever felt in her life. The guy knew his way around a woman’s body. He was a professional, after all.

As she ran lightly up the stairs, she debated calling him back. He could teach her things she didn’t know she wanted to learn.

“Of course,” Mia mused as she turned on the leaky shower in the master bedroom, postponing the cleanup downstairs for after she’d showered and had at least two cups of coffee, “when would I have the opportunity to use what I learn?” Showers right now were fast. The house needed a new hot-water tank, and the water came out in a lukewarm drizzle, necessitating speed.

“But why wait for an opportunity? Why not enjoy the experience for what it is?” She smiled as she dressed, a first. Usually not a lot of smiles in her mornings. Most days she got ready listening to the stock reports, or to one of her assistants somewhere in Blush’s worldwide offices giving her the day’s agenda, or . . . business. Always business first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

Now that she was away, she had to trust that her business was in capable hands, because she had only one contact right now, her right-hand man, Todd. So, with no business to consume her every waking hour, she had other things on her mind.

A very, very long to-do list to work on, for one, and he had just helped her accomplish a very important item.

Number seventeen. SWAS. Sex with a stranger. A dangerous stranger at that. Cross that off her list. Several times.

After putting on a large pot of coffee, Mia clasped her hair back in a stubby tail with a giant shocking-pink plastic clip purchased at Walmart. That trip had been number fourteen on her list. An eye-opening experience, too much fun to have missed. There was a whole other world out here that she’d never been exposed to. Walmart. Driving. Filling her new truck with gas, number five. Simple things that everybody took for granted.

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