Free Blurred Lines (Blurred Lines Volume 1) by Breena Wilde

 
     
    Chapter 1
     
    “I’ll take the money first,” I say, walking into the skeevy hotel room and turning to meet the businessman’s gaze.
    “Fine.” He pulls his wallet from his back pocket. While getting out the bills, I study him. He’s a little soft around the middle, the norm for men his age—early thirties. He’s slightly balding and overly tanned, like he spends a lot of time on the golf course, and he’s short. Like five foot six, which is my height. With my heels on, I’m taller.
    “ Here. Count it.” He hands me a hundred bucks and I do count it. I sure as hell don’t do this job for free.
    “Awesome. ” I fold the crisp bills and stick them in my sparkly black purse. “Now that’s taken care of, where do you want this to happen? The bed? The chair? The floor?” I notice he’s already sporting a hard on. The tent in his pants gives him away. He doesn’t seem to care though. Neither do I. His sexual readiness just means our encounter will be over sooner rather than later.
    I charge by the hour, but there’s rarel y been a guy who can go that long. And once they’re satiated, they can’t make me leave fast enough. Yeah, I’m the dirty little secret.
    He sits on the edge of the hotel bed. “I get whatever I want for the hour, right?”
    I nod, stifling a sigh. This may take longer than I thought. “As long as you’re wearing a condom, yes.” That’s one of my rules: always use protection.
    He pulls one from his pocket, but I shake my head. “We’ll use one of mine.” I’ve heard enough horror stories of guys poking holes in condoms to give the girl some horrible disease. It’s not going to happen to me.
    “Fine,” he agrees, slipping off his shiny wingtips.
    I reach into my purse, pull out several condoms, and set all but one on the chest of drawers across from the bed.
    He takes the condom, places it on the bed, slowly removes his navy suit jacket, and hangs it in the closet. He’s obviously in no hurry. Once he’s naked—except his black socks—he turns to me.
    “Now y ou,” he says, sitting back down, the condom already over his hardened cock.
    “Any particular way?” I smile seductively.
    “I don’t give a shit how the clothes come off, just get out of them,” he barks.
    I flinch, but keep my features stoic. Some guys get a kick out of scaring girls. While that’s fine, I can pretend as good as the next girl. I want to know what he has in mind first. “You got it.” I slip out of my black heels, and step out of my tiny black skirt. My top is a bandeau and I slide it down my stomach and off. Then I turn away from him and place my things on a desk with my bag underneath.
    He’s suddenly behind me , his cock pressed into the cleft of my ass.
    I cringe slightly but force it down. “Is that what you want, baby? To come in my ass?”
    “Not yet. First I want your pussy.” He slides into me. After three hard thrusts he comes. “Now go lay on the bed,” he commands.
    I obey and watch him throw the used condom into the trash and grab another. He’s still semi hard and he slides it on.
    “What now, baby?” I keep my eyes hooded, pretending I’m into him. My knees are up and I’m spread open playing with myself.
    He climbs on the bed and smacks my hand away. “Don’t touch yourself. This isn’t about your pleasure, it’s about mine.”
    I rest my hand on my st omach, ignoring the slight sting.
    “Roll onto your knees and stick your ass in the air. For touching yourself you get ten spankings.”
    Oh, he’s one of those , I think, shifting my persona into that mode. I roll onto my knees. “I’m so sorry, baby,” I say, sounding contrite.
    He grunts . “Call me Master.” Then he smacks my ass hard, again and again and again until tears fill my eyes from the pain.
    After ten , he stops. “I’m going to fuck your ass now.” He spits several times and rubs his saliva over my asshole before sliding inside. “Moan for me, whore. Show me how much you like