Chapter 3
three
Petra
My objective has been achieved.
I’ve convinced Barry to bring me to the wedding.
Even though I’m nineteen, which he clearly finds horrifying.
Which is unfortunate, because…there’s something about Barry that makes me feel warm.
Discombobulated. I’ve had a lot of honest conversations with my sisters about what it’s like to sleep with men.
Their verdict? Usually, it sucks. But every once in a while, a man comes through that causes their body to respond. They don’t have to fake their pleasure.
It’s real.
Apparently, that authentic physical reaction includes prickled skin, sensitive nipples, a strange but not unpleasant tummy ache.
As I walk to the parking lot of the diner with Barry, I am checking all those boxes.
Uh oh.
What a terrible time to have my very first sexual attraction to a man. When he’s made it clear he is not interest in my too-young ass.
There’s also the fact that he’s gigantic. Do I have a kink? Is it giants?
He’s at least six foot six. Laden with muscle. Thick, though, as well. Like he works out on the regular but never hesitates to eat what he wants. Why is that so hot?
As a woman, I never feel safe in parking lots at night, but I’m almost giddy with safety right now, because Barry saunters beside me, carrying my bag at his side, scanning the parking lot for threats.
There’s an air about him that proclaims he can and will handle anything.
This man really thinks himself unattractive?
Sure, the scars are a little jarring, but only because they look like they hurt.
Badly. But they frame the most intensely beautiful blue eye I’ve ever seen.
He glances down at me now with both of those piercing blue eyes, his attention like a caress down the slope of my neck.
“We’ll check into the resort and change, then we’ll head to the welcome party,” he says, tipping his head toward the highway. “The resort is half an hour away.”
“Yes, I mapped it on my phone.” I purse my lips at him. “I’m a full-service fake girlfriend.”
“No, you’re not,” he says, staunchly.
“You don’t have to keep reminding me we’re not going to have sex, dude. I got the message.”
“Just making sure.”
I have to jog to catch up with his long strides.
When he notices that I’ve been forced to run, he slows down immediately.
He’s a man who isn’t accustomed to walking with someone. Anyone.
That observation makes my throat hurt. “How old would I have to be for you to consider taking me to bed, though?”
“Why does it matter? It won’t change anything.”
“I’m just curious.”
“I don’t know,” he mutters. “Twenty-five.”
“What?” I shove him, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. “That’s bananas.”
“That’s appropriate.”
I blow a raspberry. “Appropriate? Men call Sweet Fleet on a daily basis asking for the youngest escort we have on the payroll.”
“I’ll consider myself proud not to be one of them.” His step slows as something seems to occur to him. “You said you’d never escorted before, right? You only answer the phones.”
“That’s right.”
“Why did you agree to meet me?”
“I liked you right away. You have an honest voice.” That startles him a little, and he looks away, almost like my admission made him shy.
“But also, you said you wouldn’t require sex and…
being that I’m a virgin…you seemed like a safe first job.
Probably my last job, too, if I’m honest. My sisters think I have a stomach bug.
They’d kill me if they knew I was with a client.
” I’m rambling because I just blurted that I’m a virgin and I really didn’t mean to. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Nineteen years old and a virgin.” He’s tight lipped as he hustles me toward the passenger side of his monster-sized truck, but when his hand touches the small of my back, I swear he splays his fingers as wide as they’ll go, feeling the base of my spine, just for a breath of time.
“This is a terrible idea,” he grouses, gripping my waist and boosting me onto the seat, his heat and the coarseness of his hands scoring me through my shirt.
“I’m the best decision you’ve ever made!” I shout before he can close the truck door.
A moment later, he’s sitting in the driver’s side. Starting the engine.
I stare straight ahead, trying to calm my pulse. It won’t stop racing ever since he lifted me with so much ease. Ever since he touched my back. My waist.
When I finally look over at him, his chest is rifling up and down.
Sweat glistens on his upper lip.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m fine.”
“Can we pretend I didn’t just overshare that I’m a virgin?”
His jaw flexes in the muted moonlight. “Petra, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t hear that if my life depended on it.”
“Drama king,” I mutter, crossing my arms and slouching, like the petulant teenager he assumes me to be. “You know, since we’re going to tell everyone I’m twenty-three, that means I get to drink at the wedding.”
He snorts. “Shirley Temples, you mean.”
I snort back. “I might be a virgin, but I’ve been drunk. Twice.”
He rakes an agitated hand over his shaved head. “Please make that the last time you mention you’re a virgin.”
“Fine.” I last all of ten seconds, because now that I’ve overshared, I feel the need to explain myself.
“I just grew up with a lot of bad impressions of men. Mostly through the stories my sisters told me. Or stories that I overheard.” I sit up straighter and cross my legs.
“I guess I just want to be selective about who I get naked with. If a man is going to get on top of me and put his thing inside of me, I’d like to trust him. You know?”
I sneak a glance in Barry’s direction and catch him staring at my thighs.
It’s so brief, I wonder if I imagined it. But…
There’s an oddly shaped bulge pressing outward from behind his zipper.
Oh my gosh, he has an erection. He’s sweating and out of breath.
Despite all of Barry’s complaints about my age, does he have the hots for me?
Should I find out?
Before I can second-guess what is surely a bad idea, I unhook my seatbelt and slide across the bench seat toward Barry, watching the muscles tense and pop in his right arm, the leather of the steering wheel cracking beneath his grip.
“What are you doing?” he asks, low.
“Nothing.” With the tip of my index finger, I trace the cut line of his triceps. So warm and smooth, yet visibly lethal. “I just couldn’t help but notice you look a little uncomfortable.”
He laughs without humor. “So you thought you’d make it worse?”
I lay my cheek on his shoulder, my fingers continuing to strum up and down his arm. “It’s me that’s making you…uncomfortable?”
His swallow is heavy. Loud. “Like I said, I haven’t been with a woman in a long time. My body is confused. Petra, please stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Everything.”
I should be sympathetic to his tortured tone of voice.
Why do I find it so…exciting? Is it the note of hunger?
The implication that he’s fighting whatever is putting his body in pain?
Emboldened by his reedy breaths and the darkness of the truck’s cab, I lift my mouth to his ear, whispering.
“I’m only going to say this once, but you did pay for the full Girlfriend Treatment, Barry.
Normally, the experience includes unlimited sex. ”
He makes a choked sound. “You said earlier that you came to help me because you wouldn’t be required to have sex.”
“Maybe I changed my mind.” My right palm skims up his thigh, veering slowly into his lap where I grasp his thick ridge firmly through his jeans, massaging.
Awed by the length and girth of him. Holy hell.
“Maybe I don’t want an uncomfortable client.
” I exhale into his ear. “Maybe you’re making me uncomfortable, too. ”
“Oh fuck.” When I hear the spray of gravel, I realize Barry is pulling the truck over onto the side of the highway.
He sits very still for a long moment, inhaling and exhaling through his nose.
Then he’s exiting the driver’s side and slamming the door.
He presses his back against the truck and at first, I just think he’s trying to get himself back under control.
Until I see the muscles of his back and arms shifting. Quickly. In patterns.
A glance in the driver’s side rearview mirror shows him doing much more than centering himself.
There’s his long, stiff shaft in his hand and he’s pumping the flesh, up and down. Furiously. His head tips back and he grits a curse, the pace of his hand accelerating.
He’s masturbating.
My lips fall open on a whimper, a trickle of wetness between my thighs catching me off guard.
Instinctively, I press the heel of my hand down on top of my mound, trying to quell an oddly needy sensation.
One I’ve never experienced. I’m barely conscious of my actions as I crawl to the driver’s side and roll the window down, exposing the ample breadth of Barry’s back. His neck.
His rough grunts reach my ears and urge me forward, onto my knees so I can lever up and run my open mouth up the thick slope of his neck. Just because it feels right.
Barry starts to pant. “Stop. Get back on your side of the truck.” Ignoring his directive, I lick a line up the nape of his neck and bite his hairline, rubbing my mouth side to side. “I tried to calm myself down, but you won’t let me,” he grits out. “You…you.”
“Did I talk about sex too much for your peace of mind?” I whisper beside his ear.
“Yes. Yes.”
“What was the final straw? Thinking of a man on top of me, taking my virginity?”
His fist picks up speed. “Petra. Please, stop.”
I lick his ear slowly, all along the shell. “Did you picture yourself taking it, big boy?”
The sound of moisture landing in the dirt is muffled by his hoarse bellow. His hand continues to blur on his lengthy erection, making a wet, slapping sound. And he wheezes, cursing through his teeth, pressing his back into the driver’s side door with so much force, I can hear the metal buckling.
He doubles over then, his sides heaving for long moments, before he straightens and fixes himself back into his pants. Refusing to look at me, he climbs back into the truck, herding me into the passenger side simply by advancing closer.
“I apologize,” Barry says, gripping the steering wheel.
Looking out the windshield while trying to bring his breathing back to a normal tempo.
“I’ve just…I’ve never seen or smelled or heard anything like you in my life.
My God…” His nostrils flare. “You are so tempting, but you are too young.” He closes his eyes.
“It just got to be too much. That won’t happen again.
Or if it does, I’ll handle myself privately. ”
That would be a shame.
I don’t say what I’m thinking out loud. But I want to. I’m still flushed and confused by my physical reactions to Barry. I’m aching in strange places, and replaying what just happened on a loop only serves to make me achier. Wetter.
“I’ve hired you for a specific purpose. Going forward, let’s stick to our original agreement, all right?”
Barry is the client and he’s right, I wouldn’t let up on the sex talk even when he asked me to stop. Not very client-friendly of me.
“Yes,” I say, forcing a quivering smile. “Original agreement. Deal.”
We’re quiet for the rest of the drive to the resort. Though I feel his eyes on me frequently, I only stare out the window, wondering if I’ll ever get the chance to feel like this with anyone else. Or if Barry is the right guy and I’m just living in the wrong timeline.