On Sale for Christmas (6 page)

Was he kidding? This is farther than my nerves would ever have taken me. If we turned around…it'd never happen. I'd never know what it felt like. Never burn with sexual heat the way I was burning now. My god, I was so turned on, my panties were already soaked through. "I don't want to turn around."

"Okay then," Ben said, parking and turning to me. "Then you should pretty much do whatever I tell you to do for the next few hours so that none of this goes sideways. A guy is going to meet us here—"

"Holy shit. You're not screwing with me? Because if you're screwing with me…"

"I'm not screwing with you. This is what you wanted, right?"

Breathe
, Becca. Breathe!

"Right. But I'm feeling…I'm feeling like if you turn this into a joke—"

"It's not a joke, Becca," he said, reaching for my hands. "It's serious for me too. Maybe the most serious thing I've ever done with a girl before. I've gone to a lot of trouble to prove something to you and to myself, so you can trust me."

I did. I really
did
trust him. Even with something this big. Something I wouldn't have trusted anybody else with. Which was a really strangely erotic feeling. My whole body was atingle following him to the motel room, watching him fiddle with the keys.

I think he was nervous—maybe as nervous as I was—but he was doing a good job of hiding it. And I needed him to.

Once inside, I took off my coat and Ben blinked. Then he blinked again. "Wow. You look…"

I glanced down at myself in the green retro-dress I'd pulled out of the back of my closet—the one that had pleats of chiffon but was in no way revealing. I guess I'd chosen the outfit defensively. An outfit as at odds with what we'd come here to do as possible. As if my inner good-girl, if she existed, was screaming out her last hurrah. "Like a virgin?"

Ben dug his hands into his pockets. "I was going to say that you take my breath away."

"Oh." I trailed off, ridiculously pleased. "You think I should wear it for…"

"No," Ben said, his soulful eyes glittering. "I think you wore this dress for
me
. Wear the one in the box for
him
…"

"Right," I said, because that somehow made sense. And because if I said anything else, I'd have to think about this mysterious
him
that was allegedly coming to have sex with me. "How long before he gets here?"

"About twenty minutes. You can change in the bathroom," Ben said, gentlemanly to the last.

I wanted to just strip right in front of him and tackle him down onto the rickety little bed. But he'd asked me to do whatever he said for the next few hours and I felt like I wanted to honor that. Besides, it was a huge turn on.

I slipped into the shabby bathroom with the box of slutty clothes and slipped into the leather, which actually fit like a glove. The shoes were too small and pinched my toes, but I didn't expect that I'd be wearing them long.

Then I took a look in the chipped mirror.

The mini-dress hugged the bottom of my ass, but stopped short enough to show off the tops of my black thigh-high stockings. I looked like…well…I looked like a hooker. Which was exactly the idea. And to make sure that I looked as hot as I felt, I took my make-up out of my bag and added a little more. Red lipsticks for my smirky lips. Black kohl for under my eyes. Then I pulled my straight black hair up into a sassy pony tail.

I looked like sex on a stick; I knew I did. So I tottered out of the bathroom on the too-tight too-tall lucite stilettos, and posed in the doorway. "Hey, Soldier. What do you think?"

Ben had been at the window, looking out over the snow-covered parking lot. Turning to glance my way, he flushed, redness crawling up his neck to his ears. "I think—I think I'm having a heart attack. Jesus, Christ, I'd better sit down before my knees give out."

His reaction turned my personal thermostat all the way up. "So which do you like better? The good girl outfit or the bad girl outfit?"

"Why do I have to choose?" Ben lowered to the edge of the bed as if his knees really
were
wobbly. He didn't bother to hide that he was hard beneath his jeans—his cock straining against the denim. "Especially since what I really want is to undress you…"

That made me curious. "So why'd you pick the leather dress?"

"I wanted to see something tight and smooth on your sweet ass…"

"And the thigh highs?"

His eyes traveled to the length of my stockinged leg. "Because the peeks of the lace just below your skirt—that's just where I want to nibble your inner thigh. And lingerie drives me a little crazy."

"Good to know," I said, tucking it away for my mental file. "What about the shoes?"

"I got them because they're slutty."

I grinned. "They really are. Is that what you're into, Ben? Slutty girls?"

"Just one," Ben said, mischief in his eyes. "C'mere."

"I dunno if I can."

His face fell. "Why not?"

"Because these shoes are like walking on stilts that crush your toes. So you can either admire the view or—"

"Kick them off and get over here."

Stepping out of the contraptions, I sashayed over to him, appreciating the lust in his eyes before he pulled me into the warmth of his embrace. I practically crawled up his leg, excited by the feel of it between my thighs. But before I could attack him, Ben said, "There are condoms on the bedside table. If he asks your name, you don't give it. You can tell him it's Candy. Candy Kane. Or whatever. And see that door on the wall? It connects to the room next door. When this guy shows up, that's where I'm going to be. So if you change your mind, or if anything happens that you don't want to happen—even if you just get scared for a minute—you knock on the wall or call out and I'll bust in here before you can finish saying my name."

Oh. Oh,
wow
. Whereas I was in total denial, he'd thought it all out. I hadn't allowed myself to really imagine what it might be like, but now that he was talking to me about the particulars…

"You can't stay and watch, Ben?"

His eyebrow went up. "Do you want me to watch?"

"Would that be…I was going to say weird, but I guess this whole thing is weird. I guess you wouldn't really want to watch me fuck some guy, and given what you told me about Maureen sending you that picture—"

"This is not
that
," Ben broke in. "This is nothing like that. This is something we're doing together. Your fantasy is now all tied up in mine. Seeing you this way, sharing this secret between us, it's a fucking rush. And knowing that you'd want me to watch you give yourself over to a dirty fantasy…that's beyond hot. It's just that it wasn't discussed with—"

"The John? How'd you find him anyway?"

Ben's eyes slid away. "You don't want to know the unsavory particulars."

I
did
want to know about the particulars, but Ben's hands caressed my hips, rocking me a bit against his erection, and I writhed like I was giving him a personal lap dance. And just as our lips met in another kiss, there came a knock at the door.

~~~

"Right here," Ben mouthed from the adjoining room before closing the door. When it clicked closed, I was faced with the reality of my situation. I was in a cheap hotel room, dressed like a slut, about to have sex with a stranger for money. And as I slipped the too-tight lucite shoes back on, I wondered what kind of guy would pay for sex? Not that I had any right to judge, since I was the kind of girl who wanted to get paid for it…

Would it be some old guy? Heavy-set, bald—

As the door swung open, I got an eye full of a guy who was neither old, nor heavy-set, nor bald. There stood a beautiful black man wearing a wool cap, shades, and a leather jacket. I stared at him, my mouth agape.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

Insta-lady-boner that was only made worse when he slowly removed his shades. "
Dayuuuum
, baby. You are hotter than advertised. You are smokin'."

A puff of air escaped me and sent steam into the night as if to punctuate his point. But I just stood there, frozen on the spot, unable to make my tongue work.

"I'm Lance." He pulled a folded C-note from his jacket pocket and held it up between two fingers. "Gonna let me in?"

I was going to fall off my stilettos. That's what I was going to do. But I was also totally going to have sex with him. Because Ben had already worked me into a state, and now every cell in my body screamed for sex. Then screamed for more sex at the sight of the money.

"Sure," I said, stepping back from the door.

Smooth
, really smooth, Becca.

But then again, that was the beauty of this arrangement. I didn't have to be smooth or seductive, because everyone knew what was expected. Lance pressed the cash into my palm, nearly scorching me in the handoff. Then he kicked the snow from his boots, took his gloves, scarf and coat off, and put his keys on the bedside table.

With distressingly little hesitation, he unzipped and wrapped his ebony hand around his dick. "A half-hour, right? Let's get on it. Come get a taste of my big black cock."

My heart thudded in my chest, even as the college girl in me worried how
that
phrase played into racist stereotypes of hypersexuality—but that girl didn't exist inside this room. There was no place for anything but pure sexual instinct here. I was unmoored here of every limit, so I went down on my knees in a flash, crawling to close the space between us, dying a little when he pressed my cheek against his hardening erection.

Cruelly, the stranger asked, "Or is cock-sucking extra?"

Ruling out any entrepreneurial future, I shook my head. I slid my nails up his denim-clad thighs, licking down his six pack abs under his sweater, then sucking the head of his cock between my lips.

I tasted salt and soap, smelled a manly cologne, and marveled at the way his tool pulsed and expanded, filling my mouth to bursting. As I flattened my tongue along the base of his admittedly big and beautiful cock, it hit me. My god, I was
doing
it. I was totally blowing some guy for money. He was a stranger; he hadn't even asked my name. This was about sex and nothing else. And the freedom of that—the feeling that I was as dirty as I could get—felt so good that it made me cream myself on the spot.

He seemed to like it too. "Look at that cotton candy pink tongue of ours working my shaft. Suck it." Fisting my ponytail, which gave him a good grip, he thrust the length of himself into the back of my throat, triggering my gag reflex, which he didn't seem to care much about. Unnecessarily, he added, "Take it, Hooker."

That kind of talk should have pissed me off. But in this situation, I loved it. He was a stranger, so his words couldn't hurt me on the inside. And Ben wouldn't let him hurt me on the outside. Which meant I didn't give a
shit
what this stranger said to me. But it made me shake with arousal.

And it made me want to prove that I could do it. I let him fuck my mouth, concentrating on breathing, slurping as the shaft pumped in and out. And everything was sheer, red-hot, sexual bliss…

…except that I wanted Ben to see me.

I wanted him to see what a good cock-sucker I could be. I wanted him to see my ass wiggling while I got mouth-fucked. I wanted him here, touching me too, but I guess a girl can't have everything.

Lance's breathing deepened. "I don't want to blow my wad in your mouth, so take that dress off and get your ass on the bed and show me the pretty pink pussy I paid for."

My fingers were shaking so badly, I could scarcely work the zipper of my dress. I was in some kind of erotic daze. I managed to shimmy out of the dress, exposing my breasts and rock-hard nipples, then spread my silky thighs in my best Playboy Centerfold pose.

He actually smiled a bit, losing some of that gruff exterior long enough to step between my legs and nudge them apart. Then he stared at my closely-shaven pussy. His dark fingers stroked me once, twice, spreading the wetness around. Then he grabbed for a condom from the bedside table and slid it on.

So, he wasn't even going to undress. "Ready?" he asked, strong arms caging me in where I sprawled at the edge of the bed.

"
So
ready," I admitted, grabbing his broad shoulders while he moved between my legs.

Bang
. That's how that first violent thrust felt.

It hurt, I'm not going to lie. But it also nearly sent me right over the edge into orgasm. He had me filled up, the short and tight curls of his sex tangling with mine, his pubic bone grinding against my clit—and I was pretty sure he knew what he was doing to me. But before I could lose myself to it, he rolled me over onto him, twisting so that his back was against the headboard and I was straddling him.

I was naked. He was clothed. And the scratch of his zipper on my inner thigh made me gasp. Fully impaled, I put my palms flat to his espresso-colored belly, gasping again at the unexpected eroticism of the sight. He chuckled. "We look good together, don't we? Like milk and chocolate cookies."

Milk and chocolate cookies?

I thought this guy was tough…

But before I got too comfortable, he growled. "It feels amazing to be buried balls deep in your hot little cunt. Do you like it?"

"I fucking love it," I whispered. "And I want to get you off…"

He rewarded me with a slap on the ass. "Then earn it."

He wanted me to fuck him, and that was no problem, since my hips were already moving. I stroked up and down onto him, gripping him between my lace-covered thighs, feeling myself stretch and throb around him when he caught my nipple in his teeth, then mashed my breasts together with both hands.

I rode him hard. Thrusting for all I was worth, getting my heart pumping, using muscles I hadn't discovered in Yoga class for sure. And while I did it, his hands squeezed my ass, and pulled my cheeks apart. His mouth trailed little bites on my breasts and shoulders. And as sweat began drip from between my breasts onto my belly, it was very clear he was holding back.

Making
me work for it.

And embarrassingly, I was afraid I was going to come before I could give him what he paid for. The sounds I made must have clued him in, because he said, "You gonna squirm and squeeze on my dick when you come? Tell me you want to come on my big black cock."