His Personal Call Girl - Volume 1
Fresh out of college and working minimum wage, Catherine is desperate to earn some cash. Enter Tom, an enigmatic young man with money to burn. Tom offers Catherine a deal: Become his personal prostitute and he'll pay her a fortune. Cat likes sex and she likes Tom's money, but what would her boyfriend think? Maybe he doesn't need to know…
~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~
I hesitated when I crossed my arms but then I had the shirt off. I was now just in my sports bra and my yoga pants. The last person to see me naked was Allison. The last person who I'd slept with was Bobby. And Tom was watching me. He'd paid me, so I hooked my fingers into my waistband and pulled them down.
I was in my g-string and my sports bra, and I could see that Tom liked it.
“Are you getting naked?” I asked.
“I will,” he said.
“You don't want to do this?” I indicated my bra.
“No,” he said.
I pulled it off in one motion. My breasts thanked me by falling happily down my chest. Then, without looking at him, I bent over and slid my g-string down my legs.
I was naked in my living room with Tom.
I didn't ask him if he wanted me at the table. I knew he did. As I walked past him, not looking at him, I thought of Bobby. What would he think? Would he call me slut? Would he be mad, upset? I pulled the drawer open. There were a few sets of keys, loose change, some maps, and that old hairbrush. Brush my hair? I pulled the hairbrush out and slid the drawer closed. I glanced behind me.
Tom had taken off his shirt. I watched him pull down his shorts.
“Brush your hair.”
I turned back to the mirror and started to brush my hair. I looked at myself in the mirror. We hadn't turned the lights on so the only light came from the shafts of sunlight outside. It was enough to see myself, to see my full breasts in the mirror, the line of my abdominals, and to see Tom come to me from behind.
I actually expected him to grab me then. He didn't do that. I continued to brush my hair and Tom, softly, put his hands on my shoulders. I stopped brushing.
“Keep going,” he said.
I continued to brush my hair.
The whole time I could watch Tom. He bent down and kissed the back of my neck. He slid his left hand over my left elbow; he didn't tell me to stop brushing so I continued to use it to hold my hair back as I brushed with my right.
His right hand slid down my side, glided up into my armpit and roved down my body, down my ribs. I felt his fingers feel each rib, felt them play over my stomach, felt them in my bellybutton. His left hand snaked over my chest and down the line of my abdomen. He didn't touch my breasts. And he kissed the back of my neck, moving around to where my neck met my shoulder. And he breathed deeply. He was inhaling me, my scent, my sweat.
He kissed lower, kissing over my shoulder. I realized he was tracing the muscles in my back, kissing them… My body continued to shake and I strained my legs to make them stop. His hands came around my front and gripped my thighs, ran down to my knees. I kept brushing my hair while Tom kissed my body, smelled me.
Then he slid his nose into the top of my crack.
“Don't-” I said automatically.
“Are you saying no?” he said.
I had frozen in the mirror.
“What are you going to do?”
“I'm going to kiss you.”
“I haven't showered.”
“Tom-” I started.
“What?” He kissed between my cheeks, the sweaty area at the top of my buttocks. He bit into the flesh. My legs wobbled a bit.
“Nothing,” I breathed. I didn't think it would be like this.