She didn’t have to worry with Damien, however, in this dimness he wouldn’t be able to see dimples. Dim enough to know she wasn’t slim, but not enough for the glaring faults to stand out.
It worked two ways. She had enough light to be able to see his hard, muscular body as he bared it to her eyes. The dim light picked out every hard swell of his pecs, the six pack he so brazenly displayed as the shirt parted, and the impressive flex and swell of his biceps as he shrugged out of the shirt and tossed it aside.
“Fair is fair, sweets.” His words were seductive.
Distracted from staring at his body, Cherry looked up at him. “What?”
His smile was another flash of white teeth in the gloom. “My shirt is off, I want your top off, too.”
Cherry swallowed. Here it was, the undressing. With trembling fingers, she reached for the tie at her waist, pulling the knot free easily. Everything loosened immediately and she mentally girded herself.
“A wrap-around.” Damien moved closer. “How utterly seductive of you, Molly Jones.” Reaching out, he took the tie from her nerveless fingers and tugged her closer. “Rather like unwrapping a present. I do like unwrapping presents.” Flicking the tie open, he kept her gaze locked with his while the dress slipped to lay loose around her.
Moving even closer until his body was a mere hairbreadth from hers, the heat of him seeping deliciously into her, Damien slid his hands inside the dress to rest upon – her hips! Her big, enormous, overly-curved hips!
Cherry almost died then and there, but before she could even think to back out of every plan she had, he tugged her full against him, lowering his head and capturing her mouth once more.
He kissed her almost senseless, plundering her mouth like a starving man at a feast. He took her mouth while his hands moved over her body, and she dimly felt the dress pushed off her shoulders, the coolness of the room on her bare back, and then suddenly her bra was gone, the lacy DD cups falling to the floor, her breasts against his chest, skin to skin.
Naked skin to skin. Hot skin to match the hot blood that was starting to rush through her veins so much faster.
Hot lips were on her throat, hard palms skimming over her back into the indent of her waist to slide beneath the silk of her panties, knowing palms cupping her derriere, squeezing the generous globes. He eased the material over her hips and dropped them down her legs to pool around her ankles.
One large palm on her buttocks pressed her close, his mouth taking hers again and again, slanting across her lips to take total control of the kiss, just as he’d taken control of the situation since he’d entered the room.
Cherry didn’t know if this was how it was supposed to happen with an escort, but she was happy to just go with it. It wasn’t like she had much choice. Her thoughts were scattered, her heart pounding, and heat was pooling between her thighs, not to mention the delicious ache.
Twining her arms around his neck, she pressed closer, giving him kiss for kiss, hot and loving.
Everything was hot - her blood, his hands, his skin, this moment. This time that was hers. She stepped out of her high heeled pumps.
Turning her, he crowded her backwards until her thighs hit the side of the bed. Keeping her lips prisoner with his, he kept leaning down and down, until she finally sat on the bed. Only then did he release her lips, his eyes glittering in the dimness. “Lie down, Molly Jones.”
If she’d been a heroine from the Victorian times, she’d have swooned. Instead, Cherry could only slide back on the bed and recline against the pillows, watching avidly as Damien straightened, his hands sliding the belt from his pants, his deft fingers unbuttoning and unzipping with expert efficiency, and he pushed those slacks down those long, muscular legs and off, taking his shoes and socks with them at the same time. Taking a wallet from his pocket, he opened it up, took a small packet from it, and placed the packet on the bedside table before replacing the wallet in his pocket.
Thank God he’d had the sense to remember condoms. She’d brought a medley of sizes in her handbag just in case – how did one measure a non-existent penis anyway? - but Damien obviously had everything worked out to the letter T. A professional through and through, no doubt about it.
When he straightened she nearly swallowed her tongue. The light from the bathroom not only picked out his tall, strong body with the hard planes, but it glanced off the impressive erection that curved up to lie against his stomach.
That erection looked suddenly enormous. She’d seen the shrivelled insides of a real woman’s vagina in a museum, and that suddenly appeared pretty damned small and short in her mind. She wasn’t so sure this erection was going to fit inside her. It gave the term ‘tonsil-tickler’ a whole new meaning. But women everywhere went through this and weren’t torn apart. Hell, what was she, a Victorian virgin? Scratch that, virgin yes, but not an innocent who didn’t have a clue about the human anatomy. Woman was made for man… it was just…damn, he was big.