Tease

Copyright © 2013 Missy Johnson

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN
978-0-9875343-9-2

First Printing: November 2013

BJJ Publishing

Dedication

To my husband, I love you very much

Tease

By Missy Johnson

Edited by: Lauren McKellar

BJJ Publishing

Bethany Masters.

Everybody knew who she was.

She was
the
it
girl of the moment, always on page six of the newspaper in one scandal or another. Everything she did was scrutinized, and everyone had an opinion on how she should behave. At only nineteen, she was my youngest client, and one of the funniest, most down to earth people I’d ever met.

Seventy percent of what you read about her was bullshit.
The other thirty?
Well, she was a hormonal nineteen-year-old girl. What did you expect?

“Coop!”

I looked up from my rum and Coke and smiled. Bethany was dashing toward me in a little white sundress that barely covered her thighs, her sandals swinging from her left hand. She floated across the hardwood floor, her bare feet barely making a sound. She wore a pair of oversized sunglasses and a bobbed black wig, far cry from her long auburn locks. She was almost unrecognizable, even to me.

She threw her arms around me, almost toppling me off my chair. “Hey, Coop.
Looking
good. Bet you’re pulling in the ladies with that six-day growth thing you’ve got going on.” She nudged me in the side and giggled, lifting her sunglasses to the top of her head.

I rolled my eyes at her. “To be fair, the stubble look is the new black. It’s
very
now,” I grumbled, rubbing my jaw. And here I thought I was looking pretty damn sexy. I ran my hand through my short, dark brown hair as Beth’s eyes ran slowly over my chest. The shirt I’d chosen to wear today was nicely fitted and clung to every muscle on my athletic frame. Her lips came together in that sexy little pout as the familiar look of desire filled her blue eyes. The way she held her knees together and rocked back and forth told me all I needed to know. She could make fun of my stubble all she wanted, but that didn’t change the fact that just looking at me now was making her wet.

She laughed, trying to hide the blush creeping across her face. “Yeah, no. Sorry, it’s not doing it for me. Maybe it’s a generation thing. I mean
,
you
are
heaps older than me.”

“And every second I spend with you reminds me of that,” I mocked playfully.

She laughed and reached over to slap me. Bethany and I had a fantastic relationship. She was my client, but more than that, she was one of my best friends. Like family, even.

I guess now would be a good time to introduce myself. My name’s Liam Cooper, but most people just call me Coop. There are two things you should know about me: one, I’m a male escort; and
two,
I’m damn good at my job. For the last six years my only career goal has been to satisfy some of New York’s most desirable women, and trust me, I do my best to achieve that each and every time.

There wasn’t much that fazed me anymore. In this kind of work, you lose your ability to be shocked pretty quickly. I’d seen some pretty crazy things in my time; things that would make my friends blush—and if you knew my friends you’d see the significance of that comment—
if
I was the type of guy to kiss and tell. But that wasn’t who I was. If there was one thing my mother had taught me, it was that all women deserved to be treated with respect, and that included keeping their private lives just that—private.

The single most important aspect of my job was respecting privacy. If word ever got out about some of the things I’d experienced, careers would be over—and I don’t just mean mine. When you’re the sweetheart virgin, or the princess of romantic comedies, what you don’t want getting out is that you’re into rape simulation. It kind of ruins the whole ‘innocent’ image. The first and foremost rule to being a successful escort is confidentiality. Treat what you do with these women as if the nation’s security depended on your silence.

Although I loved my job, it was not how I thought my life would be at the age of twenty-six. I mean, you might find that surprising, but my childhood dream was not to grow up to be an escort. As a boy I’d actually wanted to become a doctor—at least I had
after
I’d gotten over wanting to be an astronaut, a football player, a fireman, and Santa Claus.

My “career” started in my final year of college when an older female professor took a liking to me. I’d just come out of a nasty breakup and found out my mother was sick. Before I knew it, I was being taken under the wing of said professor, and being handed around her group of acquaintances, all the while making some damn good money fucking some hot older women. It kind of spiraled from there. When you’re good at what you do, word spreads pretty quickly. Things became so full on that after college I realized I was sitting on a gold mine. My desire to continue with my dream to be a doctor began to diminish.

Why slave my ass off for a job that’s going to take me years to start making any kind of decent wage in when I could be working less hours getting paid to have sex?

I also loved experimental sex, and my work allowed me to get plenty of that
and
get paid. I wasn’t there to judge them, just like they weren’t there to judge me. I could try things I might not otherwise try because that’s what I was getting paid to do.

Another thing I liked was the distance my work gave me. I loved the intimacy of the act of sex, but relationships weren’t my thing. I valued the people close to me more than I did my life, and for that reason I found it hard to let people in. I was a hard nut to crack, but once you cracked me, I had your back for life. I’d been hurt before, and I didn’t care to put myself in that situation again.

“Shall we take this party upstairs?” I asked, throwing back the last of my drink.

“Well, you know how horny I get.” She giggled, grabbing my hand as I stood up. I threw a ten-dollar bill down on the counter and shot her a look.

“Of course I know. I watch
Entertainment Tonight
,” I said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh my god, did you see what they said about me the other night? Apparently I had a drug-fueled night that ended in an orgy on the dance floor. I was at home the whole night in my fucking pajamas, watching
Dancing with the Stars
!” She laughed hysterically as she slapped her palm against her bare thigh.

“So do something about it,” I suggested. I hated seeing Bethany’s name dragged through the mud, especially when I knew what a great person she was.

“Like what? Sue them?
Too hard.
I’d rather focus on my music. Besides, according to my manager, any publicity is good publicity…” She rolled her eyes.

I nodded and bit back the urge to tell her where she should shove her manager. Bad publicity was just that—
bad
. And that kind of thing could stick with you for life. The last thing I wanted to see was her getting hurt.

By the time we reached the elevator, Bethany could barely keep her hands off me. The doors opened and an elderly couple stepped out. They glared at us, obviously horrified by our public display of affection. Bethany’s response was to giggle loudly and pull me inside. As soon as the doors closed, she was all over me again.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to do…” She didn’t need to tell me. Her unzipping of my fly told me all I needed to know, and my cock was more than happy to assist.

“Here?” I asked incredulously, my lips twitching into a smile. She gripped my neck and pulled me until her mouth was on mine, her tongue circling around mine. “No wonder you’re always in trouble,” I mumbled, reaching into my pocket for a condom as she freed my dick.

I slid my arm around her waist and hoisted her onto my hip, her back slamming against the wall of the elevator. My hand moved rapidly under her sundress and over her bare breasts.

My god, no panties either
.

She grabbed hold of my cock as I pushed it inside of her, the tightness of her pussy almost enough to make me blow right then.

“Oh!” she cried out, her back arching as she rode my length
. I reached out and did something I should’ve done in the beginning—slammed my hand down on the emergency stop button.

Rule one of fornicating in an elevator: don’t get caught, especially when your partner is a well-known singer with a bit of a reputation—even if there was something incredibly sexy about the possibility of getting caught.

My hand wandered up her back, her sundress riding up with it, until her breasts were uncovered. God they were beautiful.
Perfectly round, and incredibly soft.
Dipping my head down, I curled my tongue around her nipple, sucking it to attention until it stood out, very erect and swollen. I moved over to the other one, wrapping my lips around it and doing the same.

“Oh lord, Coop!” she screamed loudly, bringing her body back up against mine. Her eyes closed, her cute little mouth forming
an ‘O’
as she rode up and down on my cock. “Fuck!” she panted, her arms wrapping around me. Her nails dug into my back through my shirt as her body tensed. She was on the verge of coming.

My hands on her hips, I thrust myself deeper inside of her, pulling her hips toward me with each movement. I could feel the blood pulsating through my cock, just begging for a release. Focusing on the nearly naked form of the teenage superstar who was bouncing on my cock, I began to throb. I reached out and cupped her breast in my hand, squeezing it as the pressure built up inside me.

“Oh lord, Coop!” she gasped. Her hips bucked toward me as she came hard. With one final thrust I groaned, the release I felt both extreme and mind-blowing. I pulled out of her, shoving the used condom in my pocket. Leaning against the wall, I tried to catch my breath. My whole body tingled as the effects of the orgasm continued to hit me.

Fuck, that was amazing. Holy shit.

As Bethany straightened her clothes, I released the emergency button, moments before the doors opened on the fortieth level. I took her hand as we walked to her room. I waited as she swiped her card, turning to smile at me before pushing the door open. I followed her inside, shutting the door behind me.

“Any luck in the girlfriend department?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. Beth had this “thing” about me needing a girlfriend.

“Girlfriend?” I chuckled. “I’m not exactly in the right business for that. Besides, I’m perfectly content with the females in my life—no need to go screwing things up with jealousy, finding time to date, middle-of-the-night phone calls…” My voice trailed off.

The truth was
,
I
did
miss the intimacy that having a girlfriend brought with it. Sex was one thing, but the emotions you feel when you give yourself to someone you truly love is on a whole other level.

“I know,” she sighed, “but you’re such a good guy. You deserve a nice girl.” I watched as she bent over in front of the minibar to grab something to drink. “Are you thirsty?” she asked.

Her sundress was riding up and I felt myself getting hard again. She glanced back, waiting for my response and caught me eyeing her bare pussy. Her eyes narrowed as she bit the edge of her lip, her eyebrow
raising
suggestively.

I swallowed and shook my head with a smile. After clearing my throat, I answered, “Sure. A beer would be great.”

She smiled as I approached her from behind. I might not be ready for round two, but
she
could definitely go again.
My hands rested gently on her thighs, and then moved up to her hips
She turned around, my beer in hand. I took the beer from her and placed it on the desk. Moving my hand back on her hip, I pushed the dress over her head and let it billow to the floor.

She stood before me, her head cocked to the side, a smile on her lips. I reached up and pulled off her wig, tossing that aside too. Her long hair came tumbling down, covering her shoulders. My fingers traced her hairline, tucking a strand behind her ear, and then continued to work their way down her body.

She had amazing breasts—small but perky, completely in proportion with the rest of her slim body. Her eyes closed as I trailed further down, past her stomach until my finger reached the top of her pussy. She held her breath, waiting for me to act, her body aching to be touched. I slid two fingers inside of her, her legs buckling as she released a moan.

“Go over to the bed,” I ordered her.

Her eyes glinted with an eagerness I hadn’t seen before. Turning away from me, she walked to the bed, her hips swaying with each step. I was right behind her, drinking in her beauty. She reached the end of the bed and turned to face me.

“Where do you want me?” she asked in a light voice that was full of suggestion and innuendo.

“Sit down on the edge,” I replied softly.

She did, her long legs stretching out in front of her.

“Now lie back.”

She giggled, but did as I asked, lying back on the crisp white duvet cover. I nudged my foot between her legs. Pushing her knees up against her stomach, I moved them apart.

“I feel like I’m at the gynecologist,” she said, laughing.

“Really? If your gynecologist is doing this, then I suggest you report him.” I knelt down and ran my tongue along the opening of her pussy. She let out a little moan of pleasure, her hands clutching onto my hair, pushing my face closer to her.

I loved nothing more than giving a woman head. There was something special about being able to make a woman orgasm with only my tongue.