Escorting the Groom (The Escort Collection Book 4) by Leigh James Page B

bed? Is it just because he's handsome and sexy?
    Nah. He was a prime specimen of male physical beauty and power, all muscle and smoldering good looks. But that usually wasn't enough to get me excited. It took a lot more than that.
    Not that I was excited. I would never admit to it, anyway.
    Is it because he said no?
    Maybe. It was certainly a first for me, aside from Vince. Maybe Lucas's rejection stung me more than I cared to admit, and I wanted him to see what he was missing.
    But I didn't think that was the real reason.
    It’s because I like him. I liked Lucas Ford—I liked his brain, I liked his take on the world, and I liked his unflappable confidence. I also liked his green eyes, dimple and big shoulders, but that wasn't the point. I didn't "like" guys. I had sex with them. For money. They were all Johns that way and that was how I preferred it.
    So if I slept with him, he would no longer be Mr. Special and I wouldn't be crushed out on him. He would just be a John, like all the rest. And that was what I wanted, for too many reasons to scroll through in my tired head.
    Christ. Now I was analyzing myself.
    I rolled back over, trying to fall asleep and desperately trying to turn my internal psychoanalyst off.
    I did not like her diagnosis at all.

    * * *
    L UCAS
    I woke up the next morning sporting wood, the kind that wouldn't go down on its own. Unfreakingbelievable. I hadn't masturbated this much since I was a high school sophomore. That was right before I smartened up and got a girlfriend—one that was just as horny as me and wasn't interested in talking too much.
    Blake's hair spilled out all around her on the bed. I stroked it, my naked body covering hers. My erection rubbed against her wetness. She felt slick beneath me. If I didn't watch it, I was going to come before I even got inside her.
    Or got to the best part of the fantasy. I needed to pace myself with Blake, even in my imagination. For fuck's sake. I was seriously losing it.
    Don't think, don't think , I coached myself, trying to get back to the fantasy. If I didn't get this over with now, I was going to be walking around Newbury Street all day with blue frickin' balls.
    Blake arched her back and looked up at me with her wide blue eyes. "I need you," she gasped, sounding as if she would die if I didn't fuck her right now. So I did—I eased my cock into her tight, pink, perfect pussy. Her body clamped around me like a vise.
    "Holy fuck, babe," I said as I started to thrust.
    "Lucas!" she cried, writhing in pleasure underneath me, her tits bobbing as I fucked her hard. "Oh, fuck!"
    "Come for me, baby." I wanted to feel her shatter around me and suck my cock dry already. And this was my fantasy, dammit.
    "Oh, yes! YES! I fucking love you, Lucas! I love you!"
    She fucking loves me? What the actual fuck was the matter with—
    It didn't matter because I came, suddenly and in a torrent. A soft curse escaped my lips as I exploded, an imaginary Blake still writhing beneath me.
    Then there was a knock at my door. "Lucas?"
    "What?" I snapped, not thinking. My body still shook with the shock of my orgasm.
    "I brought you coffee," a cheery voice called, and then Blake opened the door.
    "Can I have some fucking privacy ?" I roared, my dick still in my hands.
    Blake took two steps in, saw me on the bed, opened her mouth—and then it seemed she couldn't manage to close it. "What? Uh, oh boy. Sorry." She looked around in a panic, clutching the mug of coffee she'd brought in. She looked as if she might burst into hysterical laughter or tears. I couldn't tell which.
    "Just leave it on the dresser," I said disgustedly, my chest still heaving.
    "Okay," she squeaked, setting it down and shooting out of the room faster than Michael Phelps leaving the blocks.
    I wiped myself off with a tissue, staring at the ceiling. I was still breathing. My heart was still beating. I was officially living proof that I couldn't die of embarrassment.
    As I calmed down, the CEO in me decided to