The Escort (18+ Only) [COMPLETED]

5: In Which She Gets A-Head

He shifted gears, his hand inadvertently brushing my knee. I shuddered as if he’d caressed me.

“Ashton?”

“Yeah?” His voice was distracted as he overtook someone. A Mini Cooper. Cute car. Probably didn’t cost as much to get all four slits of keyholes fixed, plus driver’s window. My poor Beemer was an expensive car.

“I’m going to go with this feeling I have.”

He glanced at me. In the psychedelic lights of the street lamps we passed, I could see that he was bewildered. “What the hell are you...” His voice trailed off as he watched me.

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I turned to my side, pushing my chair back and simultaneously trying to unzip Ashton’s fly. He swerved to avoid hitting the car in front of us.

“Amor, are you crazy?”

“Only a little.” My head was pounding and I needed to pee, but all I could think of was giving someone a blowjob. Anyone. Preferably this man.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” I told him, slapping his hand away. Bending over, my knees on the seat, I slid my hands into the silk of his black boxers. Silk boxers were the sexiest things under the sun, in my opinion. Cotton could go to hell.

Ashton inhaled sharply when my hand wrapped around his c0ck. “We’re going to have an accident,” he protested, but he leaned back in his seat.

“So?” He was hard. Hot. And well-endowed.

“So?” he repeated, his voice strangled. “So we could have an accident!”

I lowered my head. And took him into my mouth.

Ashton screeched to a stop at a red light, hissing. “You’re a fúcking psycho.”

My mouth was too full to reply. His c0ck was slick with pre-cum and I lapped it up, already wet myself. Tracing the veins of his manhood with the tip of my tongue stirred the deep pool of desire in my belly. Ashton’s palm was abruptly pressed against the back of my head, urging me to take in even more of him. With one hand, I gripped the base of his erection and circled the head around every inch of my mouth, lightly scraping it with my teeth. The lights must have changed because the car jerked to a start again, as did Ashton’s hips.

It squealed to a complete stop as he exploded in my mouth.

“Shít,” he exhaled, pouring himself into me. He was panting heavily and I was far too busy drinking him up, luxuriating in his smell, his taste.

I sat up when I had sucked him clean, my head ringing. Ashton’s eyes were squeezed shut. They flew open.

“We’re not going to talk about this incident. Ever,” he said quietly, starting the car again and simultaneously zipping himself up.

“Why?” I said, licking my lips. “Because you came too quickly?”

He shot me a glare. “Came too quickly?”

I patted his arm kindly. “It’s OK. It happens to a lot of guys.”

His mouth was a thin line as we pulled up outside my apartment block.

I pushed the door open and stepped out into the cool night air. My heels were still inside but I didn’t care. For the first time in a long time, bare feet on gravel didn’t scare me. But there was the little niggling fact that I was extremely sexually frustrated.

Ashton got out and locked my car up.

“Cabs usually stop over there,” I slurred at him, pointing right outside the gate.