Jan Springer - The Pleasure Girl

Something heavy hit her kitchen table, making her tense. His saddlebag? Her money?

She could hear him breathing in the next room, the sound loud and raspy, as if he were aroused at being in her home. She’d left the bedroom door open, and she listened intently. There were a few moments of silence, and then her heart picked up a magnificent speed as his boots thudded against the wood planks of the old kitchen floor.

She thought he was coming into the bedroom, but then she relaxed again as she heard the creak of a couple of cupboard doors opening. She almost called out to him to ask if he needed something, but then the tinkle of glass and something being poured drifted through the air.

Another couple of minutes of strained silence drifted by, and Teyla could only sit and wonder what he was up to. And wait. Soon the rustle of clothing followed, and she inhaled deeply to steady the frantic pounding of her heart. Suddenly, he began walking toward the bedroom door. Toward her.

Oh, dear. Here we go. She held her breath. Tensed.

He appeared in the doorway with a bottle and two glasses in his hand. He wore his jeans and a black T-shirt. He looked good. Broad shoulders. Narrow waist. Lean hips. He was a sex-on-a-stick stud.

His dark gaze latched onto her, and fire screamed through her veins at his potent look. Desire flared in his eyes as he studied her. His intense look screamed sex, and she could feel her body answering with a raw awareness she swore she’d not felt before.

“Shaving gear. Where do you keep it?” he asked.

“In the adjoining bathroom. Second drawer to your left.” She sounded too breathless. Bedroom breathless.

He nodded, ripped his gaze from her, and strolled into the bathroom. Her nervousness mounted as she listened to a drawer opening.

What in the world was the matter with her? Usually she was so cool, calm, and in control with her clients. But with this guy, she was both nervous and giddy with anticipation at the same time.

“Do you have a special man in your life?” The question erupted from the bathroom, rocking her world.

“Excuse me?” she called out, wondering exactly what he meant by that question.

“A boyfriend? Husband? Someone you’re dating?” “N…no.”

“Good. I prefer a woman who is available.”

Teyla blinked in astonishment. Odd comment coming from a guy who wanted to share her with two other guys. Three guys and her? Oh, lord, she’d better not think about it.

“Do you do this often?” she blurted, instantly regretting asking the question, realizing it was none of her business. But it was the first thing that popped into her mind, and when she was nervous, she did have the tendency to say stupid things.

He appeared at the doorway, shaving utensils and a couple of facecloths laid out on a folded towel in his hand. That damned bottle and two glasses clutched in his other hand.

He was smiling at her. That hot, sexy shadow made him look both dangerous and erotic at the same time. He wore that same crooked smile as when he’d caught her watching him at the window earlier. The smile made the sides of his eyes crinkle, and she noticed tiny laugh lines at the corners of his mouth also. The knowledge that he appeared to be used to laughing made her feel so much better. Safer, too.

“Why do you ask?” he asked. “Are you jealous already?”

His sense of humor was a definite asset.

“Maybe,” she teased, feeling some of the tension ease out of her shoulders.

He strolled to her dresser with the mirror and placed the glasses and the bottle, which she noted as whiskey, and the utensils and towel down beside her pitcher.

“Before we begin, I want you to shave me,” he said softly as he prepared the items, laying them out on the dresser.

When he finished, he looked at her, and his intense gaze made her catch her breath. She didn’t want him to lose that erotic-looking five o’clock shadow. It made him look so sexy and dangerous. The look excited her. But he was paying her. If he wanted a shave, so be it.

She made a move to stand, but he ordered her to remain sitting as he whipped up the lather. When it was a frothy cream, he turned to her, and to her surprise, his hand fell to the stud on his jeans.

Nervousness fluttered through her again. Gosh, she thought, she would have a few minutes more before they had sex. Or did he want her to shave him while they were having sex? Lordy, now that would be interesting.

“I…I thought you wanted a shave?”

Her eyes latched onto his fingers as he unzipped. “I do.”

She swallowed as he lowered his jeans. His package pressed boldly against his white briefs. Definitely big. Very big. Oh boy. Oh boy. Dr. Liz, girl, what have you gotten me into?

“I want you to shave me down here,” he said and stroked the outline of his big erection.

Her eyes widened at his words.

Down there? Oh my God.

“I’ll pass you the items. I want you to just sit right where you are.” His voice had gone deeper, hoarser. His eyes darker. They glistened with fire. His body scent, strong and dominant, whispered along her nerve endings, making her very aware of her sexuality. Very aware of him.

“Pull down my underwear. So we can get started.”

Both their breaths shot through the silent air like rockets, and her fingers trembled as she did as he asked. His flesh felt scorching hot to her touch as she slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs. Tugging, she inhaled sharply as his giant, purple-flushed cock sprang free. He was already rigid, very long, and so damned thick that her pussy creamed at the intoxicating sight. As she pulled his briefs lower, his sack, swollen and huge, appeared.

Oh, yeah, definitely a big guy. Now she fully understood Liz’s letter.

She slid the briefs lower over his thighs and knees, and she let them drop to the floor where he stepped out of them, moving closer to her. She realized her cheeks had grown warm. She had grown warm.

Down there, he’d said. He wanted to be shaved around his cock and balls. She’d never done that to a man. Not one of her clients had ever asked. It had never occurred to her to do something like that. Should she voice her inexperience? No, she needed to appear professional. Professionals knew what they were doing, and they followed their client’s instructions. Especially if she wanted him to come back, and baby, with his generous size, she wanted him to come back.

She accepted the prepared brush from him. He inhaled as she slapped the lather along his hairy parts. She noticed his gut clench as she feathered her fingers around his cock, lifting the heavy shaft to lather the fine hairs beneath. She held onto his solid flesh longer than necessary, enjoying the way he throbbed against her palm.

Next, he handed her a throwaway razor. That item didn’t belong to her, so he must have brought it. Throwaway razors were another thing that were a luxury for her, so she tended to reuse the ones she had until they were totally dull before tossing them away.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she set about doing the intimate chore. His pubic hair felt fluffy and fine, a total opposite of her late husband’s, which had been wiry and coarse. Anxiety almost overwhelmed her as she began to shave him, and she found herself scrambling for something to say. But what did one say while shaving a man in such an intimate area on his body?

“Have you done this before?” he asked, his voice sounding strangled, as if he were maybe afraid? Well, maybe he should have asked before she’d gotten started.

“It’s a little late to be asking that question, isn’t it?” She couldn’t help but laugh.

“I hope not,” he retorted, amusement lacing his voice. There was that humor again. She smiled and lifted her gaze from his magnificent size to peer up at his face. She shouldn’t have looked up because his eyes were so dark with desire she could barely stand the spear of need bursting inside her lower belly.