Sure Thing Read online

  So yeah, sign me up.

  Then by the time we got to dinner I started to think. What if he called me Daisy right in the midst of things? I don’t think my psyche could ever recover from that blow. No way. He could have called me Rose—that would have been fine, a little naughty even, hearing him use a fake name I’d given him in the hotel bar. But my sister’s name? No. Absolutely firm, great big huge no. So I resolved to stay away—better safe than sorry and all that.

  But then he waited for me in the lobby. Pretending to look at tourism flyers while I pretended not to notice he was waiting. And then he was all convincing and suave and used words like… well, just words. He shouldn’t be allowed to use words. Any of them. If he’d just grunted and given me his room key I’d have been able to resist. Probably.

  But no, he used his sophisticated British accent to speak words and I’m not made of stone for crying out loud. He said ‘pussy.’ In the hotel lobby. In his accent and it was lewd and inappropriate and hot as hell. And then ‘cock’ flew out of his mouth and words like ‘begging’ and ‘multiple orgasms’ and, well, that was that.

  So I blurted out the part about not calling me Daisy and nearly cost my sister her job a mere one day into this trip. I am literally the worst at undercover operations. It’s pathetic. At twenty-six years old I should be better at deceit. I’ve got no game.

  I wonder if I should just tell him? I bite my lip and glance at him over my shoulder. He’s staring at my ass. I turn back around and look at the elevator button and wonder where the hell the elevator is. It’s a three-story building, how long could it take to get back to the first floor? And why are we not taking the stairs? No, I can’t tell him, I decide. What the heck would I say? Hey, listen, the thing is I’m not actually Daisy. I’m Violet. Daisy’s identical twin sister? Yeah, so she had something to do this week and I took her place as tour guide.

  I can’t envision any scenario where that ends well. Or with me not in jail. What’s that, Jennings? No, no, I’m not a scam artist. Not technically. I was simply trying to earn some money from a job I’m not qualified for.

  Not a scam.

  Right.

  Holy shit, why didn’t I think of this before now? I cannot have an arrest record or I am never getting another job again. This must be illegal, what we’re doing. I’m so screwed.

  When we finally step onto the elevator the mood feels somber. At least to me. Jennings might still be thinking about my ass for all I know, but he’s quiet and so am I.

  He pauses when we reach his door and waits until I meet his eyes. “You’re not married, are you, Daisy?” he asks, then corrects himself with a roll of his eyes. “Love? You’re not married, are you, love?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “No one’s asked.”

  A hint of a smile pulls at his lips and he shakes his head as the lock clicks and he pushes the door open.

  “Well then, that was an incredibly honest answer.”

  “I’m usually a very honest person,” I tell him, and yes, I hear exactly how that sounds after the words are already out of my mouth.

  “So you’re usually an honest person.” He examines me with interest as he flips the keycard onto the dresser. It slides across the surface and comes to a stop when it hits the base of a lamp.

  “I’m not married, Jennings. Not engaged, not anything. I just get off on you calling me ‘love.’ I’ve got a fetish for all things British, that’s all there is to it.” I’m such a liar. At least most of that was true. I do enjoy it when he calls me ‘love.’ It’d be even better if he called me Violet, but I’m working with the cards I’ve been dealt right now.

  “So you’d have said yes to any idiot who asked then?” He’s back to that.

  “Why are you assuming I date idiots?” Rude asshole. It’s true, but still rude. He raises a brow to challenge my denial and I glare at him for a moment before speaking again. “I was merely answering your question, Jennings,” I reply in a bit of a huff. “You asked if I was married and I was detailing how not married I am by explaining to you that no one’s asked.”

  “Well, I’m glad no one’s asked, love.”

  “Um, thanks?” I reply, throwing him a look. “I’m sure marriage is a big joke to you, playboy, but it means something to some of us.”

  “I hadn’t meant to imply it doesn’t mean anything to me.” He frowns. “Only that I’m glad you’re unattached and here with me.” He closes the foot separating us and brushes my hair back as he runs his lips down the side of my neck. “Very glad,” he murmurs into my ear.

  “Yeah, me too,” I agree a moment before he covers my mouth with his own and I forget what we were even talking about. Damn him and his magic mouth. My entire body is warm and relaxed and I’m melting into him, my fingers snaking under his shirt to his chest. I’m happy I decided another round with him was a good idea.

  “Now.” He breaks the kiss and taps my bottom lip with his finger. “I want these lips on my cock, love.”

  I pause for a moment, too drunk on his lips to realize what he’s just said. Then I swipe my lips with my tongue and gather my hair over my shoulders. “Did you just order me to suck your dick?” Holy crap, why does that make me so hot? I’m torn between glaring at him out of principle and begging him to say it again. I’m leaning heavily towards the begging.

  “I did.” He’s blatant in his reply.

  I eye his shirt, some vintage-looking concert tee from a band I’ve never heard of, but the way it lies across his chest has been distracting me all day. I push the hem up his chest until he takes over and flings it over his head, then I place my palms on his skin and lean in. “Say it again,” I murmur, because yeah, I liked hearing it.

  He grins as he lifts my blouse over my head then stops to fondle my tits over my bra. “Knees, love. I want to feel your warm, wet mouth wrapped around me. I want to see how much of me you can take and then I’ll dig my hands into your hair and urge you to take just a little bit more, slide just a little bit deeper, suck a little bit harder.”

  I’ve dropped to my knees before he’s finished speaking and I’m working his belt free, keeping watch on him from under my lashes. I pop the button of his jeans and yank the material to his knees without moving my eyes from his. Then I lean forward and kiss his flat abdomen while working my hands into his briefs and around him, pushing the fabric down as I do. And then I lose all my game.

  “Oh!” I blurt out in surprise, hand still wrapped around his cock. I release him and sit back on my heels and look up. “What do I do with it?”

  “What do you do with it?” He’s looking at me like I’ve just claimed I’m a virgin.

  “I’ve only seen regular dick before,” I say with a shrug. I can’t believe this escaped my attention the other night, but in my defense I never really got a look at it.

  “Regular dick,” he repeats with his posh British accent and a smirk, brow raised.

  “You know, like the fixed kind? Um, circumcised!” I finally find the correct word and bounce on my heels a little while glancing between him and his dick.

  “You American girls.” He laughs while sliding his palm over the length of his cock and back again. I’m not sure if I should be grateful I’m not the first girl to be confused, or pissed off that this has happened to him enough to be a thing.

  “I assure you it works quite the same,” he tells me while he strokes himself and his cock hardens.

  Okay then, hard it does look exactly the same. I feel weirdly proud of myself for adding this experience to my sexual bucket list as I wrap my hand around his cock. I bet Daisy’s never seen an uncircumcised penis. I’m certain of it actually, because she’d have told me about it if she had. Every detail, with hand gestures and a funny name for the guy. So I win this one. Twin win! I think as I try not to laugh. We used to say that to each other when one of us beat the other at something. I totally twin-win this one and I’m feeling pretty darn smug about it. Until Jennings asks why I’m laughi
ng. While holding his cock in my hand.

  “I’m just proud of myself,” I tell him.

  “For sucking my cock?”

  “I mean, I wouldn’t have articulated it quite like that, but sorta.”

  “So how much can you take then? If you’re so proud?”

  “Whoa.” I hold up my other hand. “Don’t get too excited. I can’t deep-throat or anything.” I shrug. “But I think I’m fairly decent at this. Hold on, let me focus.” I slide my emergency elastic band off my wrist and gather my hair back into a pony.

  “Are you serious right now?”

  “What? It gets in the way. That is how dedicated I am to giving you a great blow job,” I add as I finish with my hair and wrap my hand around him again.

  “Are you worried you’re going to be made redundant?”

  “Make me redundant,” I purr. “Is that British dirty talk coming out of your mouth?”

  “Not quite, no.” He shakes his head and the skin around his eyes creases in amusement.

  “I take pride in my work, Jennings. In all things.” I look up at him from under my lashes as I stroke my hand up and down the length of him slowly, back and forth. He’s thick and heavy in my hand and my mouth waters at the anticipation of wrapping my lips around him. “Anything else I should know about your special dick?” I ask a moment before dragging my tongue up the underside of his cock, my movements slow but sure.

  “Fuck,” he hisses while twisting my pony into his hand to maneuver me to his liking. “No, I think you’ve got it.”

  I wrap my lips around him and swirl my tongue over the tip while rotating my hand around the length I can’t reach with my mouth. His groan tells me I’m doing okay. As I bob my head over him I mentally pat myself on the back for having a few magic mouth skills of my own before I stop thinking of anything but pleasing this man. He tugs my hair and angles my head to the side so he can better watch me suck him off. The look of lust in his eyes fuels me and I’m tempted to touch myself but I’m more interested in touching him. Besides, I’d rather let Mr. Magic Mouth take care of me when I’m done, and I know for certain he will. Multiple times. That’s what he promised me in the lobby and I don’t doubt he’ll deliver.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jennings

  There’s no such thing as a bad blow job—at least there’s never been one in my life. Some are more memorable than others certainly, but a woman with a willing mouth can’t fail. And this girl is enthusiastic. And likely prefers drinking through a straw. Sweet Jesus.

  She squeezes the length of me that her mouth can’t reach with her hand, her wrist rotating with dexterity and her eyes not leaving mine until she withdraws my cock from her mouth with an audible pop. She dips her head and drags her tongue up the length of me from base to tip and makes me feel like a teenager worried about blowing my load too soon.

  This girl, she charms me with her combination of naïveté and enthusiasm. The way she blurted out her proposition the first night with false bravado but then rode me with her hair tumbling over her shoulders and her eyes simmering with lust. How she sat back on her heels tonight asking me what to do with my cock then gathered her hair up as if she was getting ready to go on a jog before diving in with the eagerness of a professional.

  The way she scowls at me during the day then laughs during sex with no regard for trying to appear sexy. She is sexy, possibly the sexiest woman I’ve had the pleasure of being with. But she’s not trying to be. She just is, her combination of cautiousness and bravery intoxicating.

  As is her mouth. Intoxicatingly soft. Enticingly warm. Blissfully wet. I urge her lower with a slight tilt of the hand I have wrapped around her ponytail and she gags slightly but keeps going. Like I said, enthusiasm is everything. She eases back then squeezes the base of my cock tighter with her fingers and slides me deeper than I’d have thought she’d be able to.

  My balls tighten and I yank her head back before I can come down her throat. Not that I don’t want to, but a warning is appropriate.

  “I want it,” she says before I have a chance to do more than groan as her lips clear the head of my cock. Her tongue wets her lips the moment the words leave her mouth. Her hand is still wrapped around the base of me, her thumb making firm swipes on the underside of my cock as she leans forward with her eyes on mine. “Give it to me, Jennings.”

  Bloody fucking hell.

  I cup her jaw and slide my cock across the velvety surface of her tongue, her lips sucking me in, and spill myself down her throat with a grunt. When I’ve stopped she pulls back and swallows quickly, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment as she does and wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.

  That little sequence should not be sexy but dammit if it wasn’t. Sexy as hell because she did it for me, nearly winced when she swallowed. Fucking hell, that was hot. The innocence of it. As if I’m corrupting her a tad.

  Then just as quickly she blinks before nodding her head. “Good, right?” she says with the tiniest hint of a smug smile and now I’m the one laughing.

  “Better than good, love.” I pull her to her feet and run my fingertips across her shoulder blades, easing her bra straps down as I do. “You were brilliant.”

  “Brilliant!” she repeats in a mock British accent with a wide grin. “I’ve definitely never been called brilliant before,” she says and I find the idea of her doing this with someone more off-putting than I care to admit. I unsnap her bra and toss it onto the dresser so I don’t have to see her furrow her brow over it landing on the floor. Then I do the same with her skirt before pushing her to the bed so I can slide her knickers past her ankles. They go with the rest of her clothes on the dresser before I crawl over her onto the bed, nudging her thighs apart with my knee as I do. Time to convince her tonight was a good idea, and that tomorrow night will be an even better one.

  She sighs and spreads her legs further apart as I suck one of her perfect tits into my mouth. I cup the other with my palm and rub my thumb across her nipple and marvel at every splendid inch of her body. When I pinch her nipple her responding moan is music to my ears. Her legs tighten and she arches herself against me. The way her dark hair spreads across the pillows is a visual I’ll use to pleasure myself to in the future, no doubt. I love the weight of her tits in my hands, the warmth of her skin when I suck her between my lips. She smells like a sunny day—some blend of coconut and citrus and heaven.

  “Are you going to do that thing again?” Her hands are in my hair, her fingertips massaging my scalp, and I’d like it very much if she never stopped touching me.

  “Thing?” I switch tits with my tongue and slide a hand lower so I can caress the skin where her small waist gives way to the delicate curve of her hip. I’ll need to fuck her from behind before we’re through so I can place my hands on her hips while she’s kneeling before me, using the leverage to move her on and off of my cock while she—

  “With your tongue,” she says, interrupting my fantasy.

  “I’m doing a thing with my tongue right now,” I tell her and nip at her with my teeth in example.

  “The other thing,” she ekes out as she arches against me again, her fingertips pressing firmer in direct response to my teeth.

  “This thing?” I ask as I move my hand from her hip and slide two fingers directly through her center, parting her. She’s soaking and I’m grinning.

  “Yup,” she says, the word popping from her lips in a gasp. “That thing.”

  “Did you enjoy that thing, love?” I almost slip and call her Daisy. Why the bloody hell doesn’t she want me to call her Daisy? What woman doesn’t want to be called by her name during sex? It’s beyond peculiar and I shouldn’t give a toss, yet I find that I do.

  But later. I’ll think about that later. Right now I’ll call her anything she damn well asks if it keeps her in my bed and under my tongue. Enveloping my cock with her wet pussy and screaming my name with her sweet mouth. Unlike her, I love hearing my name as she come
s, her voice breathy and strained and filled with pleasure. Her American-accented pronunciations of ‘don’t stop’ and ‘right there’ not so different from what I’m used to, but so much sweeter-sounding coming from her.

  “Yes.” She nods, her hair brushing across the pillow. “I did enjoy it. You should do it again. It probably won’t be as good as I remembered it, but it’s worth a shot.”

  “Right then.” I shake my head and place a kiss on the underside of her breast. “I probably just got lucky the first time, didn’t I?”

  “You might’ve,” she agrees. “I’ll keep my expectations tempered.”

  “Off I go then.” I smirk as I reposition myself, kissing her navel on the way. “I’ll give it my best go.”

  “Uh-huh,” she murmurs as I spread her apart and cover her with my mouth. Pleasuring this woman is something I’m only too happy to do. Hell, just thinking about it had me fighting off a hard-on all day.

  She squirms as I suck her clit between my lips and her fingers tug on my hair in response. Interpreting her every twitch and sigh and learning how to make her groan harder and arch higher is the sole focus of my life at the moment. Her taste, her scent. The touch of her fingers. The tilt of her pelvis when she’s close to coming.

  I could assemble an encyclopedia’s worth of ways to make her scream and it’d be time well spent.

  But I’ve only got a week so I’d best pay attention. I can collect a notebook’s worth of ways in that time, surely.

  I discover that she’s a little bit ticklish when a giggle slips out as I’m kissing her inner thigh and positioning her leg over my shoulder.

  I learn that she tastes even better tonight than she did two nights ago.

  I determine that she’s not used to anal play when she jumps from a fingertip coated in her wetness circling her there, but that she comes pretty spectacularly when she lets me slip the finger inside.