The Accidental Call Girl Read Online Free PDF Page B

throughout her years as a woman. Fewer than many of her friends, and hundreds fewer than an experienced escort.
    But such thoughts dissolved. Who could think, being possessed like this? How could a man of nice but normal dimensions feel like a gigantic force of nature inside her, knocking against nerve-endings she couldn’t remember ever being knocked before, stroking against exquisitely sensitive spots and making her gasp and howl, yes, howl!
    Pleasure bloomed, red, white heat inside her, bathing her sex, her belly, making her clit sing. Her mouth was open against the duvet; good God, she was drooling too. Her hips jerked, as if trying to hammer back against John Smith as hard as he was hammering into her.
    ‘Yes . . . that’s good . . . oh . . .’ His voice degraded again, foul, mindless blasphemy pouring from those beautiful lips as he ploughed her. Blue, filthy words that soared like a holy litany. ‘Yes, oh God . . . now touch yourself, you gorgeous slut . . . rub your clit while I fuck you. I want you to be coming when I do. I want to feel it around me, your cunt, grabbing my dick.’
    She barely needed the stimulus; the words alone set up the reality. The ripple of her flesh against his became hard, deep, grabbing clenches, the waves of pleasure so high and keen she could see white splodges in front of her eyes, as if she were swooning under him, even as she rubbed her clit with her fingers.
    As she went limp, almost losing consciousness, a weird cry almost split the room. It was high, odd, broken, almost a sob as John’s hips jerked like some ancient pneumatic device of both flesh and iron, pumping his seed into the thin rubber membrane lodged inside her.
    He collapsed on her. She was collapsed already. It seemed as if the high wind that had swept the room had suddenly died. Her lover, both John and a John lay upon her, substantial, but not a heavy man really. His weight, though, seemed real, in a state of dreams.
    After a minute, or perhaps two or three, he levered himself off her, standing. She felt the brush of his fingers sliding down her flank in a soft caress, then came his voice.
    ‘Sorry about calling you a “slut” . . . and the other stuff. I expect you’ve heard a lot worse in this line of work, but still . . . You know us men, we talk a lot of bloody filthy nonsense when we’re getting our ends away. You don’t mind, do you?’
    ‘No . . . not at all. I rather like it, actually.’ Rolling onto her side, then her back, she discovered him knotting the condom, then tossing it into the nearby waste bin. His cock was deflating, naturally, but still had a certain majesty about it, even as he tucked it away and sorted out his shirt-tails and his zip.
    ‘God, you look gorgeous like that.’ His blue eyes blazed, as if his spirit might be willing again even if his flesh was currently shagged out. ‘I’d love to have you again, but I think I’ve been a bit of pig and I’ll be hors de combat for a little while now.’
    You do say some quaint things, John Smith . . . But I like it.
    I like you.
    ‘Perhaps we could go again? When you’ve had a rest?’ She glanced across at the second pile of notes on the dresser. It looked quite a lot. ‘I’m not sure you’ve had full value for your money.’
    John’s eyes narrowed, amused, and he gave her an odd, boyish little grin.
    ‘Oh, I think I’ve had plenty. You . . . you’ve been very good, beautiful Bettie. Just what I needed.’ He sat down beside her, having swooped to pick up her panties, then pressed the little cotton bundle into her hands. ‘I haven’t been sleeping too well lately, love. But I think I’ll sleep tonight now. Thank you.’
    A lump came to Lizzie’s throat. This wasn’t sexual game playing, just honest words, honest thanks. He seemed younger suddenly, perhaps a little vulnerable. She wanted to stay, not for sex, but to just hug him, and hold him.
    ‘Are you OK?’
    ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ he said, touching her cheek. ‘But