"That's it, baby," he continues, his tone almost soothing, despite the filth spilling from his lips. "Take my cock. Take all of it."
Baby.
My belly flutters, my heart soaring like a fool even though I know it's a runaway utterance. A thoughtless spi...
A strange sort of sadness? Disappointment, maybe? Whatever. It doesn't matter. Men like him typically don't ever put any woman on a special pedestal, not even the ones they marry, evidently. Like he said before, what we share is a business arrangement. He has a demand, and I have a service which I can supply him with...for a price. That's it. Business 101. Nothing more. Nothing less.
I shouldn't feel bad. It's not as if I could or should even want to expect more from a man willing to cheat on his wife with a stranger. And, more importantly, it's not as if I'm looking for love, either.
But despite my words, and despite my own morals, I can't deny that I'm attracted to him. No matter how many times I tell myself otherwise, I can't convince myself that I don't want to suck on his tongue and nibble on his lips, or wonder what it would feel like to have his cock buried deep inside me.
My inner thighs clench involuntarily, pressing themselves against each other as the thought lingers in my mind; a thought that I've become well acquainted with over the last couple of days. I subtly regard his impressive profile as his focus remains on me, his icy, light blue eyes seemingly colder than the metal he's using on my body.
He brings the stethoscope up, placing the chest-piece just under my left breast, and I immediately tense at the contact, my toes curling in response. I hold my breath on reflex, and my lungs seize up momentarily, forgetting how to expel the air that's trapped inside them.
As if not sensing my discomfort, he looks me straight in the eye, placing his other hand on my waist. "Breathe," he mutters, his voice mildly annoyed.
I can only manage a frown. Easy for you to say, douchebag.
He moves the stethoscope further down, placing it firmly against my belly, just below my navel. I gasp loudly at the frigid sensation, inhaling sharply through both my mouth and nose. He looks at me again, his eyes focused and as intense as ever.
"Cold?" he simply asks, much like he did that first time, his tone almost nonchalant, as if he's only asking for the sake of formality.
I can only nod frantically. Yes, the metal is cold as hell, but it's not the only reason I'm having trouble breathing. Heck, it's not even the main one.
My heart speeds up even more, thumping rapidly in my chest, and I can feel its frantic beats echoing vigorously between my thighs. For some reason, the frigid contact shoots sharp, angry tingles straight to my pussy. I try to clamp my thighs even tighter, being as inconspicuous as I can, but considering that my vagina has suddenly decided to go rogue on me, being discreet is proving to be quite the challenge.
My pussy pulses with even more force, and I'm afraid that I can actually hear the blood roaring within its walls. I'm even more afraid that Frost might be able to, too, especially since he's letting that stupid stethoscope of his linger on my lower belly. It certainly doesn't help that my pussy doesn't seem to want to help me out here. God, I wish I could just tell it to calm the fuck down and stop acting like I'm fantasizing about Henry Cavill or some other drop-dead-gorgeous Hollywood hunk—even though I can't deny that Frost is clearly in that league, both physically and in his socio-economic status.
Still, he's one hell of a smug and arrogant bastard as it is. He certainly doesn't need his overly-inflated ego to swell any further, especially not at my expense.
The last thing I want is for him to know that simply checking my vitals is turning me on this much.
Well...that and the fact that the only thing that stands between his fingers and my pussy is a single layer of denim.
***
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