Free The Accidental Call Girl by Portia Da Costa

wasn’t a lie. He’d have been a gorgeous treat even if he wasn’t her only client, faux or otherwise.
    ‘Ah, but isn’t it in the escorts’ code that you have to tell all of us that?’
    She guessed it was. Men always wanted to know that they were exceptional, even if they weren’t, and if they were paying for a woman’s company a little bit of ego stroking was all part of the service.
    ‘Well, yes, sort of, but I try not to get myself into a situation where I have to say it . . . unless I mean it.’ When he leant over her, looking into her eyes, she tried to shuffle away a bit, knowing she was in danger of revealing herself. The motion made her wince as the duvet cover scratched her tender bottom.
    ‘Touché.’ His hand settled on her bare belly, spread fingertips just brushing the edge of her bush. ‘I suppose I’ll never get a straight answer out of you, will I?’
    Now was the time to tell him. But she couldn’t quite get the words out. He seemed so relaxed and comfortable with the escort experience. Knowing she wasn’t one would just make things complicated. Especially about the money. She resolved to put most of it aside from now on, to give it back to him eventually, apart from a bit for expenses. If such an obviously wealthy man like him had been courting her properly he would probably have spent far more on gifts and meals and whatnot anyway.
    ‘What on earth are you thinking about, Bettie? You’re frowning. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were doing your expenses in your head.’
    ‘No! No way! Sorry . . . I just got a bit distracted. I’m so sorry.’ She tried to sit up, but his hand remained firm upon her, so she reached up and put her arms around his neck, drawing him down for a quick kiss. His lips were firm, yet evocative with that delicious velvet plushness too. With a dart of his tongue, he responded, kissing her back beautifully. Against her thigh, she felt his erection, still hard as iron.
    ‘Would you like to fuck now, John?’ She moved herself against him, ignoring the pangs in her bottom. They were fainter now, anyway, amazingly so. He seemed to be something of an artist where spanking was concerned. Maybe he knew how to lay it on without any lasting damage after all? ‘Would you like me to take my clothes off?’ His bare chest looked so nice, and she could only imagine how lovely it would feel to press her bare breasts against him as they embraced.
    ‘No, not this time.’ He brushed her hair again, then ran a fingertip down the dark lapel of her suit. ‘I’ve a yen to have you while you’re still wearing this. I love women in sexy suits. The more severe looking the better. The contrast between strict, crisp lines and wanton animal horniness really gets me going. The idea of a deliciously hot wet pussy beneath a flannel pencil skirt . . . mmm . . . irresistible.’
    ‘Mine’s not beneath . . . ah!’ She gasped as he cupped her sex, gripping her roughly, a finger going determinedly for her clit.
    ‘Near enough,’ he said, a split second before kissing her again and massaging her pussy.
    Lizzie writhed on the bed, rubbing her reddened bottom against the duvet, loving both the painful heat there and the heat John was creating between her thighs, playing with her. Whimpers tried to escape from her lips, but he absorbed them with his own, his finger working her tirelessly until she squealed into his mouth, coming intensely.
    ‘Lie still,’ he said as she lay panting, and she almost laughed. There wasn’t much chance of anything else. She felt sideswiped, and all she could do was watch John as, to her surprise, he wrenched at his soft shirt and almost tore it off, then attacked his jeans.
    Naked. He was naked. What a feast.
    John Smith’s body was lean and well-formed, beautifully proportioned. He didn’t have the hard-cut muscle of a gym bunny in his twenties, but he was fit and toned, and she wondered what he did to stay that way. Probably a private trainer