Everything He Wants
Read Everything He Wants Online
Authors: Erin Lark
Everything He Wants
by Erin Lark
* * * * *
Everything He Wants
Copyright © 2016 Erin Lark
Cover art © 2016 Erin Lark
All rights reserved.
Everything He Wants
is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All organizations, places, and events are created from the author's imagination.
T
his is the novelized version of
Everything He Wants
and includes a happily ever after.
“We all have something to hide.”
Kira's spent the better part of a year masquerading as an escort, and quite frankly, she's tired of it. But with pay as good as it is, and no lack of clients in sight, it's impossible to pull away from such a lucrative job.
That is until her favorite client offers to double her pay so long as she agrees to be his companion for one evening. No questions asked.
The promise of a doubled wage is hard to pass up, and the possibility of finally getting to see her lover's face makes this deal impossible to resist.
With their destination as mysterious as the man who invited her, Kira accepts.
What he requires, may be a bit much. Even for her.
––––––––
E
xcerpt:
My front door barely had a chance to open before we were in each other's arms again. A part of me insisted I take a breath, to take in every second as if it were my last. I couldn't wait. Even after I'd learned his name and had seen how stunning he was, there was no stopping us.
Maybe it was because I'd been anticipating this all day or possibly because of the hell Dennis tried to pull tonight.
It doesn’t matter.
Not so long as he crushed his lips against mine, just like that. I was used to him taking things slow, but now wasn’t the time or the place. We could get reacquainted with each other's bodies later, once we'd had a chance to cool down.
Logan kicked the door shut and guided me toward the living room. He alternated between pushing me against the wall and pulling me along with him. His fingers dug at my shirt when he found my lips again. Blinded by the dark, every step we took was another chance to run into a table. A wall.
My breath caught when he deepened the kiss. Again when he moaned against my lips. In all the time I’d spent with him, he’d never been this aroused. So in need, he was almost in pain. And he wasn’t the only one.
I broke our kiss and struggled for breath. Freeing an arm from my shirt, we separated long enough to get out of our clothes before coming together again—skin against heated skin.
* * * * *
I
cradled the ceramic mug in my hands and breathed in the mix of oranges and spice. The aroma tingled my nose as I took a sip, delighting in the sometimes aggressive flavor.
My cupboards were filled with every tea imaginable, their flavors as varied as my clients. Any man who walked through my door had his own tastes. Desires.
Lips.
I shivered and set the mug on the counter. My front door opened. I had just enough time to fix the hem of my skirt before he rounded the corner.
Right on time.
Punctual and polite with the touch of a firm hand. Yes, this one was my favorite.
Orange spice, for lack of another name, was one of my regulars, and I knew he’d want his usual. I rummaged through a nearby drawer and retrieved a rubber band to pull back my hair. I left a handful of tendrils to hang loosely in front of my face. It’s something he always noticed around the same time he kissed the nape of my neck.
He’d claimed he was a lawyer during our first interview, but never allowed me to look at him. In all the weeks he’d been coming to use my services, I’d never faced him. Not once. This was our arrangement, and so long as the pay was good—
better than good
—I was more than happy to look the other way.
Heat rushed to my cheeks as I felt more than heard his footsteps glide toward me. His feet were obviously bare, his skin on the linoleum floor making a very distinct, but familiar sound. I grasped at the edge of the counter with both hands as he unzipped his jeans, which he then threw to the floor in a single step along with everything else.
Even though I’d never seen him, I imagined he was the kind of man who kept his hair short, but still long enough to run my fingers through. He stood at the far end of the kitchen, and my skin warmed under what most must’ve been an intense gaze. That’s what I told myself, anyway. But the more he came to me, the harder it was to resist the thought of looking at him—to lose myself in his eyes.
I whimpered and closed my eyes, anticipating his touch—cool flames against flushed skin.
I reached down to lower the edge of my thong, but a strong, tanned arm stopped me. His fingernails were trimmed, free of dirt and debris. It was clear even if he wasn’t a lawyer, he was certainly a businessman. Most of my other clients weren’t as well kept, or as gentle.
He was the one I looked forward to each day, the one who could fully satisfy me—
please
me. He guided my hand back to the counter’s surface and removed my undergarments with his other hand. He effortlessly unclasped my bra and, much like the laced thong, that too fell to the floor around my feet.
Tentative fingertips caressed my neck as he carefully moved my ponytail out of the way, kissing exposed skin as he went. He paused, pushing a single tendril of hair behind my ear like I hoped he would. The small gesture made my breath catch.
He snaked an arm around my waist and trailed feather-light kisses around my neck. And as he went, his pause between kisses shortened.
His closeness and the heat from his skin always did strange things to my blood pressure, and today was no different. The anticipation of knowing what was coming and not getting there fast enough put me on edge. I’d waited all day for this, and he’d make me wait again. He always did.
It’ll be worth it.
The man had given me a collection of fantasies to choose from when I was alone, and I always came back to this—to what he was doing to me. His lips on my skin. His exhalations warm against the nape of my neck when he kissed it.
The arm around my middle moved, the edges of his fingertips a short breath away from where I wanted them most. I let my head fall back against his chest and closed my eyes. A position he quickly took advantage of. Holding my chin, he made sure I wouldn’t move before pressing his lips to mine. Light. Gentle.
God, I love it when you do that,
I wanted to say, but the words never passed over my lips. My other clients treated me as though I was their plaything, but the man I was with now understood. He addressed both our needs. Sometimes mine more than his own.
I sucked in a breath as he leaned against me, arms holding me in place as a very hard erection teased my back. He groaned. Stepped back. But we didn’t separate.
I corrected my posture, but I didn’t open my eyes. My back felt cool without him against it, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he closed the gap again. It happened a lot sooner than I anticipated, but what I didn’t expect was to hear him say my name.
"Kira," he said, "you’re shaking."
I wet my lips and urged my body to stay still. It didn’t help. "Sorry."
"Are you cold?"
I opened my eyes and glanced down at the mug of tea. Steam continued to rise from the water’s surface. "I’m okay."
"Are you sure?" He kissed behind my ear, which forced a fresh wave of goose bumps to appear all over my body.
I shivered. "Anxious, I guess."
"Is that so?" Another kiss, this time on the side of my neck. My collarbone. "And how am I making you anxious?"
Oh, like you don’t know.
"Your lips..."
"Like this?" He kissed my ear.
I shuddered when a chill raced over my spine. "Mm-hmm."
"I love to make you squirm."
That’s not all you’re doing.
I reached for the counter when the room tipped to one side. He wouldn’t let me fall, but even as he tightened his arm around my waist, he was slowly sending me into orbit with his lips. No man had ever kissed me the way he did. It was like he had all the time in the world, and he used up every minute of our session making sure when he left, all I’d think about was him.
The room started to spin, and I had to remind myself we weren’t moving at all. We were still in the same place. Was his hand lower? I drew in a shaky breath to clear my head and get myself on solid ground, but it did little for the fact that yes, his hand had moved. It was still moving.
The hand he’d used to remove my garments was on my left hip as he explored the curves of my slender frame. A few inches taller than myself, the experiences
Orange spice
and I shared were probably the main reason why we'd become such as passionate pair.
No, he’s always been like this.
Even during our first appointment, he was in no hurry to get himself off. Not unless I got to do the same.
Still holding me in place with his right arm, he moved to touch the gentle swell of my breasts. His fingertips left a trail of flame beneath them as they circled around pink flesh, closing in on my nipple.
There was no thinking with him around.
Forget thinking. What about breathing?
There was none of that either. Suspended in time, there was no need for thoughts, breath or any of the other common necessities I couldn’t think of right now.
It didn’t matter how similar today’s motions were to yesterday’s. Perhaps it was the mystery of not seeing his face that caused this excitement, but none of that mattered now.
I struggled for breath as my vision swept from one corner of the room to the other. Thus far, I’d managed to keep my legs together. Keeping upright, on the other hand, was something else entirely. I shifted my weight, favoring my right leg while still consciously trying to keep both as straight as possible. Knees locked.
I can’t honestly say how long we’d been standing there in my kitchen, but as the scent of oranges wafted through the air, I wagered it had been at least a few minutes.
More than enough time for torture,
I decided, coolly moving my hand from the counter to tease my clit.
My spine straightened from the sudden, albeit brief contact. His hand was on mine within seconds, correcting my posture and denying me any further pleasure unless he did it himself.
"None of that." His breath drifted past my ear as he nipped my neck. "You know that isn’t how I like to play."
I groaned as a chill ran down my spine, causing my hairs to stand on end and my breasts to peak. My feet itched, willing me to move, to spread my legs some more. But that wasn’t how our arrangement worked.
Be good, and he’ll treat you well
.
I pressed into him like I’d done so many times before, gently bucking against his legs and hard shaft. "Please." I gripped the counter so hard I was sure the tips of my fingers might bleed.
"Needy today, aren’t we?" he asked.
"Mm."
He took his hand from mine so he could hug both his arms around my middle. Like a skilled dancer, he wedged a knee between the backs of my legs, prying them apart with little force. His hands crept down past my belly button to the sea of curls below. His fingers moved searchingly, feeding off every moan that rode on my breath, every quiver my muscles made. It was torture in the best sense of the word.
He pulled me in against his rigid frame as his hands hovered above my clit. I tried to thrust forward, to make contact with his soft touch, but his elbows resting on my hips held me in place. By now, I didn’t doubt he knew the subtle sway of my hips was involuntary, but he always made sure to keep them as still as he could.
He was in control.
He always is.
And so long as he kissed me—so long as he touched my clit like that—I was more than happy to give it to him.
His fingertips circled my clit as he bit at my neck. I moaned. Rocked my hips as my head fell back against his shoulder.
"Like that?"
He knew I did. I couldn’t talk. Couldn’t think. All I did was feel. His lips under my ear. One hand teasing the inside of my thigh while the other did the same to my clit. Fuck, I needed him. Wanted him.
