25-07-2026, 01:24 PM
Once the hotel door shut behind them, Aditya toed off his shoes and
ambled to the windows. Not really what he wanted to think about right now.
He yanked the dbangs shut and turned around, locating Ayesha standing at
the foot of the bed. She looked away from him and fiddled with the folded
sheets of paper in her hands. Her lesson plans.
He imagined himself shredding them into confetti. He couldn’t explain it,
but he detested those lists. Instead of acting on the fantasy, he approached her,
took the papers, and set them carefully on the nightstand. He found a narrow
silver pen in the nightstand’s drawer and put it on top of Lesson One.
If she was clearheaded enough to check boxes tonight, he needed to analyze his
technique. He dimmed the bedside lights.
“How should I—what should I—maybe I—” She gripped the collar of her
shirt. “Should I undress?”
“I don’t know. It’s not in the lesson plan.” Once the words were out, he
wanted to take them back. Her lists annoyed the hell out of him, but he didn’t
need to belittle her. “I’m sor—”
“You’re right. I didn’t think to include that.” She hurried past him to the
nightstand. After she considered the list for a moment, she bent down and
picked up the pen, demonstrating the only reason why a woman should wear a
pencil skirt: to show off the perfectly rounded curves of her fine ass.
That had to be why it took so long for her cluelessness to register.
She hadn’t caught his rudeness or his sarcasm. Maybe she was one of those book-
smart people who didn’t know how to socialize, and he was being too hard on
her. “If I told you your lesson plans are insulting, what would you do?” he
asked quietly.
She looked at him over her shoulder with alarmed eyes. “Are there parts I
should reword? I’d be happy to change things.” She turned back to the lesson
plan and skimmed her fingers over the lines at a thoughtful pace.
The ball of irritation in his chest loosened. He couldn’t be annoyed with
her when she didn’t understand.
She worried the inside of her lip and tapped her fingers on the table with
increasing speed before sending him an anxious look. “Should I have written
something other than Performance Review? I hope you know when I wrote
that, I meant my performance. There’s nothing wrong with your performance.
Even if there were, I wouldn’t know. I’m not qualified in any way to judge—”
Before she could work herself into another panic attack, he said, “It was
just a hypothetical question. Forget about it.”
She seemed confused for a second, but she blinked the look away and
released a relieved breath. “Oh, okay.” After adjusting her glasses, she turned
back to her papers and neatly wrote Ayesha’s in front of each iteration of
Performance Review.
That was a good reminder. This was about helping with Ayesha’s
performance. That was it. So what if she wasn’t viewing this as the fulfillment
of secret fantasies like his other clients did? He needed to take his own advice
and stop thinking.
When she flipped to the second page in the pile, he shrugged out of his
jacket, dbangd it over the arm of a chair, and unbuttoned his shirt. Tugging the
tails free, he sat on the bed next to Ayesha. She snuck a quick glance at him,
and her gaze dropped to the portion of skin revealed by his open shirt. The
pen paused in midscrawl, clattered to the tabletop.
He smiled with satisfaction. Not so clinical now.
She squared her shoulders before she lifted her hands to her collar. Buttons
came undone at a painstaking pace, and white fabric fluttered to the floor,
followed by her gray skirt. The set of her jaw was determined as she let him
look at her. And look he did.
He usually preferred women with bigger breasts, lusher hips, and rounded
thighs. He liked their softness, the way they filled his hands. That was not
Ayesha. Everything about her was modest. Wearing only a bra and
panties, her curvy body was composed of elegant shoulders and arms, a little
waist that flared to gently curved hips, thick thighs and shapely legs with delicate ankles.
She wasn’t what he’d thought he’d always wanted, but she was perfect.
“Take your bra off.” His voice came out rougher than he intended, but he
couldn’t help it. He was dying to see the rest of her. She might not have
fantasized about their time together, but he had.
Down at her sides, her hands fisted. “Is that necessary? They’re not my
best feature. They’re not big.”
“Yes, it’s necessary. Men like to see them even when they’re small or big.” And
touch them. God, he wanted to touch them.
She grimaced, looking like she wanted to argue with him. When she
reached behind herself and slid her bra off, he caught his breath.
Then he bit his lip as he grinned. Ayesha didn’t seem to know it, but she had
the kind of nipples men dreamed about. Rosy-tinted areolas gave
way to extravagantly protruding tips that—no question about it—had to stay
pointed 24/7, hot or cold, rain or shine. Ayesha, conservative economist,
had pointy nipples. And he wanted them in his mouth.
“What now?” she asked in a near whisper.
He slipped his shirt off and tossed it on the far side of the bed. “I think you
get to check a box.”
She peeled her eyes from his chest and stared at him like he’d spoken
another language. After several hard blinks, she shook her head and said,
“Right.”
Leaning over, she checked a box at the top of the list. She adjusted her
glasses and paused. The glasses came off, and Vulnerable brown eyes searched
his before she focused on the wall to the side.
The air seeped from his lungs as his internal organs melted and the rest of
him hardened. So gorgeous.
And scared. How did he ease her fear?
“Let me hold you.”
She inched as close as she could get without actually touching him.
He suppressed a smile. “It might help if you sat on my lap.”
Biting her lip, she crawled onto him and straddled his hips. Fuck, so close.
That part of her, opened wide. He went hard in an instant but forced himself
to take things slowly. This was about Ayesha.
He expected her to sit stiff as a board until he thought up some kind of sorcery to make her relax, but she immediately settled in close and rested her cheek against his shoulder.
When his arms encircled her, she released a ragged sigh and went boneless.
Seconds stretched into minutes, and he let himself savor the moment—not
speaking, not fucking, not doing anything, just being with someone. The room
was so quiet he heard the cars driving by outside. Talking voices passed their
room, receded.
“Are you falling asleep again?” he asked finally.
“No.”
“Good.”
He ran his fingertips down the length of her arm and smiled when
goose bumps rippled outward. Nuzzling her neck, he breathed in the soft
scent of her skin and kissed the sweet spot just behind her jaw. Her lips called
to him, but instead of trespassing, he sucked on her earlobe and bit it, startling
a shaky sigh from her.
“This is foreplay?”
The breathy quality of her voice sent satisfaction
curling through him.
“It is.” Even though he knew the answer, he asked against her ear, “Do you
like it?”
She shivered and burrowed closer to him as additional goose bumps dotted
her skin. “Yes, but it’s not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
She shook her head.
“Tell me if you want me to stop or there’s something specific you want.”
As he spoke, he threaded his fingers into her hair and angled her head back.
He trailed kisses along her jawline, nipped her chin, and kissed the corner of
her mouth.
Too close to the temptation of her lips. His body ached at the thought of
taking her mouth in a deep kiss, and he almost did it despite everything. He’d
been dreaming of that mouth all week. Feeling like he was swimming against
the tide, he forced his lips down to the column of her throat.
“Touch me.” He brought her hands to his chest.
She scbangd her palms over him until they encountered his nipples. As if
fascinated by the texture, she rubbed her thumbs on the hardening tips. His
muscles tightened, and he shuddered with pleasure.
“Is that right?” she asked.
“I like that. And this.” He cupped her handful breasts in his palms and pinched
the nipples just so.
Her breath broke, and she gazed down at her chest. With his tanned hands
on her pale skin and her decadent nipples captured between his fingers, it was
an erotic sight, indeed. He couldn’t resist pinching her again and enjoying her
sharp intake of breath.
“Why does it feel so good when you do that?” The wonder in her voice
had him grinning.
“Want to try something even better?” At her hesitant nod, he said, “Come
up on your knees for me.”
Her thighs flexed as she rose off his lap. Body stiff and breaths shallow,
she settled her hands on his shoulders. Just as he’d planned, the new position
brought her nipples to face level.
Though, if she wasn’t careful, she’d poke an eye out with those things. Only in his line of work was blindness by nipple assault a true hazard. To be honest, however, he didn’t really feel like he was working.
There was no fantasy playing in his head, and he wasn’t telling
himself a new lie every fifteen seconds. This moment, this woman, and his
undeniable attraction to her were all real.
He smoothed his hands up and down her back until her muscles relaxed
beneath his palms. That was when he gave in and kissed the underside of one
breast. She curled her fingers, and her nails pricked his skin.
Pulling back, he asked, “Are you okay, Ayesha?”
She cleared her throat twice. “Tell me what you’re planning. Please.”
“I’m going to suck on your pretty nipples and lick them with my tongue.”
Her grip tightened on his shoulders. “That was a bit more graphic than I
was expecting.”
“How would you have said it?” He ran his mouth from the underside of
her breast up to the place where pale skin gave way to dark areola.
“I don’t know what—”
He covered her nipple with his mouth and sucked hard.
“Aditya.”
The sound of his name falling from her lips was just as unexpected as it
was hot. He pulled her closer so he could feast on her. No man could stay
sane with breasts like this in his face, in his mouth, rolling on his tongue. He
could play with these for days. Relinquishing one, he licked his way to the
second.
She worked her fingers blindly through his hair, twisted and arched her
back with unconscious demand. Ayesha was loving this, losing her genius mind
over his caresses.
Before he knew what he was doing, he dragged his lips up her throat,
along her jaw, back toward her mouth. He caught himself at the last second
and pressed their cheeks together as he mentally shook himself. He was
seriously fucked up.
She’d said she didn’t want it, and he kept—Their lips touched.
He stiffened from the electric shock of it. She stroked
his bottom lip with her tongue, and his instincts took over. He claimed her
mouth like a starved man.
Her taste, her softness, her nails on his scalp, kiss after kiss after kiss.
“I’m sorry. I know I said no kissing.” She kissed him again. “But I
couldn’t resist. I thought about kissing you all week.” Her words sank into
him. He hadn’t been the only one, after all. Another drugging kiss. “And now,
I can’t seem to stop.” A murmuring sound hummed in her throat as she kissed
him yet again.
“Then don’t stop.”
Aditya twined his tongue with hers, and her body went soft in his arms.
She undulated her hips against the aching bulge beneath his tool and scbangd
her nipples over his chest. He bit back a groan. He hadn’t wanted a woman
like this in . . . Had he ever wanted a woman like this?
When he drew back, her lips were parted on soundless gasps of desire. It
took a moment for her eyes to clear enough to focus on him, and he expected
her to turn around and check another box off her list. Instead, she wrapped her
arms around his neck and pressed close, holding him. She crushed her lips
against his temple.
A shocking sense of being cherished spread through him. She wasn’t
acting like what happened between them was services rendered for payment
received. She was acting like it meant something, like she cared, maybe even
about him.
Another hotel room, another bed, and another client in his arms. It was a
regular Friday night. Only he’d never felt so exposed, so raw, and he still
wore his goddamned pants.
This was supposed to be plain fucking. There wasn’t supposed to be any
caring. He couldn’t keep doing this if he cared. Caring would turn the escorting into cheating, and he refused to cheat. Time to shake this nonsense
out of his head and get down to business.
ambled to the windows. Not really what he wanted to think about right now.
He yanked the dbangs shut and turned around, locating Ayesha standing at
the foot of the bed. She looked away from him and fiddled with the folded
sheets of paper in her hands. Her lesson plans.
He imagined himself shredding them into confetti. He couldn’t explain it,
but he detested those lists. Instead of acting on the fantasy, he approached her,
took the papers, and set them carefully on the nightstand. He found a narrow
silver pen in the nightstand’s drawer and put it on top of Lesson One.
If she was clearheaded enough to check boxes tonight, he needed to analyze his
technique. He dimmed the bedside lights.
“How should I—what should I—maybe I—” She gripped the collar of her
shirt. “Should I undress?”
“I don’t know. It’s not in the lesson plan.” Once the words were out, he
wanted to take them back. Her lists annoyed the hell out of him, but he didn’t
need to belittle her. “I’m sor—”
“You’re right. I didn’t think to include that.” She hurried past him to the
nightstand. After she considered the list for a moment, she bent down and
picked up the pen, demonstrating the only reason why a woman should wear a
pencil skirt: to show off the perfectly rounded curves of her fine ass.
That had to be why it took so long for her cluelessness to register.
She hadn’t caught his rudeness or his sarcasm. Maybe she was one of those book-
smart people who didn’t know how to socialize, and he was being too hard on
her. “If I told you your lesson plans are insulting, what would you do?” he
asked quietly.
She looked at him over her shoulder with alarmed eyes. “Are there parts I
should reword? I’d be happy to change things.” She turned back to the lesson
plan and skimmed her fingers over the lines at a thoughtful pace.
The ball of irritation in his chest loosened. He couldn’t be annoyed with
her when she didn’t understand.
She worried the inside of her lip and tapped her fingers on the table with
increasing speed before sending him an anxious look. “Should I have written
something other than Performance Review? I hope you know when I wrote
that, I meant my performance. There’s nothing wrong with your performance.
Even if there were, I wouldn’t know. I’m not qualified in any way to judge—”
Before she could work herself into another panic attack, he said, “It was
just a hypothetical question. Forget about it.”
She seemed confused for a second, but she blinked the look away and
released a relieved breath. “Oh, okay.” After adjusting her glasses, she turned
back to her papers and neatly wrote Ayesha’s in front of each iteration of
Performance Review.
That was a good reminder. This was about helping with Ayesha’s
performance. That was it. So what if she wasn’t viewing this as the fulfillment
of secret fantasies like his other clients did? He needed to take his own advice
and stop thinking.
When she flipped to the second page in the pile, he shrugged out of his
jacket, dbangd it over the arm of a chair, and unbuttoned his shirt. Tugging the
tails free, he sat on the bed next to Ayesha. She snuck a quick glance at him,
and her gaze dropped to the portion of skin revealed by his open shirt. The
pen paused in midscrawl, clattered to the tabletop.
He smiled with satisfaction. Not so clinical now.
She squared her shoulders before she lifted her hands to her collar. Buttons
came undone at a painstaking pace, and white fabric fluttered to the floor,
followed by her gray skirt. The set of her jaw was determined as she let him
look at her. And look he did.
He usually preferred women with bigger breasts, lusher hips, and rounded
thighs. He liked their softness, the way they filled his hands. That was not
Ayesha. Everything about her was modest. Wearing only a bra and
panties, her curvy body was composed of elegant shoulders and arms, a little
waist that flared to gently curved hips, thick thighs and shapely legs with delicate ankles.
She wasn’t what he’d thought he’d always wanted, but she was perfect.
“Take your bra off.” His voice came out rougher than he intended, but he
couldn’t help it. He was dying to see the rest of her. She might not have
fantasized about their time together, but he had.
Down at her sides, her hands fisted. “Is that necessary? They’re not my
best feature. They’re not big.”
“Yes, it’s necessary. Men like to see them even when they’re small or big.” And
touch them. God, he wanted to touch them.
She grimaced, looking like she wanted to argue with him. When she
reached behind herself and slid her bra off, he caught his breath.
Then he bit his lip as he grinned. Ayesha didn’t seem to know it, but she had
the kind of nipples men dreamed about. Rosy-tinted areolas gave
way to extravagantly protruding tips that—no question about it—had to stay
pointed 24/7, hot or cold, rain or shine. Ayesha, conservative economist,
had pointy nipples. And he wanted them in his mouth.
“What now?” she asked in a near whisper.
He slipped his shirt off and tossed it on the far side of the bed. “I think you
get to check a box.”
She peeled her eyes from his chest and stared at him like he’d spoken
another language. After several hard blinks, she shook her head and said,
“Right.”
Leaning over, she checked a box at the top of the list. She adjusted her
glasses and paused. The glasses came off, and Vulnerable brown eyes searched
his before she focused on the wall to the side.
The air seeped from his lungs as his internal organs melted and the rest of
him hardened. So gorgeous.
And scared. How did he ease her fear?
“Let me hold you.”
She inched as close as she could get without actually touching him.
He suppressed a smile. “It might help if you sat on my lap.”
Biting her lip, she crawled onto him and straddled his hips. Fuck, so close.
That part of her, opened wide. He went hard in an instant but forced himself
to take things slowly. This was about Ayesha.
He expected her to sit stiff as a board until he thought up some kind of sorcery to make her relax, but she immediately settled in close and rested her cheek against his shoulder.
When his arms encircled her, she released a ragged sigh and went boneless.
Seconds stretched into minutes, and he let himself savor the moment—not
speaking, not fucking, not doing anything, just being with someone. The room
was so quiet he heard the cars driving by outside. Talking voices passed their
room, receded.
“Are you falling asleep again?” he asked finally.
“No.”
“Good.”
He ran his fingertips down the length of her arm and smiled when
goose bumps rippled outward. Nuzzling her neck, he breathed in the soft
scent of her skin and kissed the sweet spot just behind her jaw. Her lips called
to him, but instead of trespassing, he sucked on her earlobe and bit it, startling
a shaky sigh from her.
“This is foreplay?”
The breathy quality of her voice sent satisfaction
curling through him.
“It is.” Even though he knew the answer, he asked against her ear, “Do you
like it?”
She shivered and burrowed closer to him as additional goose bumps dotted
her skin. “Yes, but it’s not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
She shook her head.
“Tell me if you want me to stop or there’s something specific you want.”
As he spoke, he threaded his fingers into her hair and angled her head back.
He trailed kisses along her jawline, nipped her chin, and kissed the corner of
her mouth.
Too close to the temptation of her lips. His body ached at the thought of
taking her mouth in a deep kiss, and he almost did it despite everything. He’d
been dreaming of that mouth all week. Feeling like he was swimming against
the tide, he forced his lips down to the column of her throat.
“Touch me.” He brought her hands to his chest.
She scbangd her palms over him until they encountered his nipples. As if
fascinated by the texture, she rubbed her thumbs on the hardening tips. His
muscles tightened, and he shuddered with pleasure.
“Is that right?” she asked.
“I like that. And this.” He cupped her handful breasts in his palms and pinched
the nipples just so.
Her breath broke, and she gazed down at her chest. With his tanned hands
on her pale skin and her decadent nipples captured between his fingers, it was
an erotic sight, indeed. He couldn’t resist pinching her again and enjoying her
sharp intake of breath.
“Why does it feel so good when you do that?” The wonder in her voice
had him grinning.
“Want to try something even better?” At her hesitant nod, he said, “Come
up on your knees for me.”
Her thighs flexed as she rose off his lap. Body stiff and breaths shallow,
she settled her hands on his shoulders. Just as he’d planned, the new position
brought her nipples to face level.
Though, if she wasn’t careful, she’d poke an eye out with those things. Only in his line of work was blindness by nipple assault a true hazard. To be honest, however, he didn’t really feel like he was working.
There was no fantasy playing in his head, and he wasn’t telling
himself a new lie every fifteen seconds. This moment, this woman, and his
undeniable attraction to her were all real.
He smoothed his hands up and down her back until her muscles relaxed
beneath his palms. That was when he gave in and kissed the underside of one
breast. She curled her fingers, and her nails pricked his skin.
Pulling back, he asked, “Are you okay, Ayesha?”
She cleared her throat twice. “Tell me what you’re planning. Please.”
“I’m going to suck on your pretty nipples and lick them with my tongue.”
Her grip tightened on his shoulders. “That was a bit more graphic than I
was expecting.”
“How would you have said it?” He ran his mouth from the underside of
her breast up to the place where pale skin gave way to dark areola.
“I don’t know what—”
He covered her nipple with his mouth and sucked hard.
“Aditya.”
The sound of his name falling from her lips was just as unexpected as it
was hot. He pulled her closer so he could feast on her. No man could stay
sane with breasts like this in his face, in his mouth, rolling on his tongue. He
could play with these for days. Relinquishing one, he licked his way to the
second.
She worked her fingers blindly through his hair, twisted and arched her
back with unconscious demand. Ayesha was loving this, losing her genius mind
over his caresses.
Before he knew what he was doing, he dragged his lips up her throat,
along her jaw, back toward her mouth. He caught himself at the last second
and pressed their cheeks together as he mentally shook himself. He was
seriously fucked up.
She’d said she didn’t want it, and he kept—Their lips touched.
He stiffened from the electric shock of it. She stroked
his bottom lip with her tongue, and his instincts took over. He claimed her
mouth like a starved man.
Her taste, her softness, her nails on his scalp, kiss after kiss after kiss.
“I’m sorry. I know I said no kissing.” She kissed him again. “But I
couldn’t resist. I thought about kissing you all week.” Her words sank into
him. He hadn’t been the only one, after all. Another drugging kiss. “And now,
I can’t seem to stop.” A murmuring sound hummed in her throat as she kissed
him yet again.
“Then don’t stop.”
Aditya twined his tongue with hers, and her body went soft in his arms.
She undulated her hips against the aching bulge beneath his tool and scbangd
her nipples over his chest. He bit back a groan. He hadn’t wanted a woman
like this in . . . Had he ever wanted a woman like this?
When he drew back, her lips were parted on soundless gasps of desire. It
took a moment for her eyes to clear enough to focus on him, and he expected
her to turn around and check another box off her list. Instead, she wrapped her
arms around his neck and pressed close, holding him. She crushed her lips
against his temple.
A shocking sense of being cherished spread through him. She wasn’t
acting like what happened between them was services rendered for payment
received. She was acting like it meant something, like she cared, maybe even
about him.
Another hotel room, another bed, and another client in his arms. It was a
regular Friday night. Only he’d never felt so exposed, so raw, and he still
wore his goddamned pants.
This was supposed to be plain fucking. There wasn’t supposed to be any
caring. He couldn’t keep doing this if he cared. Caring would turn the escorting into cheating, and he refused to cheat. Time to shake this nonsense
out of his head and get down to business.
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