Prologue
Dionne’s hands glided over the curves of her fine frame as she rode the stranger on the plush mattress in the king suite of The Mandarin Hotel. She could not be the only person who rented suites by the hour in San Francisco, or anywhere in Silicon Valley for that matter.
She loved the feel of her own skin. Her plump flesh was all so incredibly soft. She was sobering up now. Her mind cleared from the White Russians she was so fond of, though she could not remember her partner’s name. It didn’t matter. She would never see him again. And it wasn’t his name that made her pick him up. He was fine. His face was pretty and his build powerful. And at the moment, he was rocking her world. Her instincts had been dead on. The white boy could move. His body was rippling in a serpentine dance, driving into her.
And she told him. She gave him high praise indeed. “Fuck me, that’s it,” she said.
He had just about the bluest eyes she had ever seen. And yet there was something exotic about him. Pretty Boy.
It had been a long month and a tough break for her. Dionne Ellis had poured her heart and soul into her presentation. And it fell short. She was brainy. Beautiful. Brilliant. It was why they paid her the big bucks. So why was she the engine that could for other players, but when she sucked-up the courage to venture out on her own, something was always missing? Like a contract?
As the alcohol had all but left her and she was no longer the bold and inebriated Dionne, she lost interest in her boy toy fast. If she had been a little higher or in an otherwise different frame of mind, she might have had a better attitude. But Dionne being who she was, reached down in between her legs to touch herself. She was so wet and slippery and hot. She found her sweet spot and her rhythm and hurried Pretty Boy’s efforts along.
He liked it as much as she did. He started talking.
“Make it hot,” he whispered. “Come for me.”
Oh no, thought Dionne. I am not coming for you. If I am coming for anyone it is for myself. And then she promised herself that this was the last time. Hot as it was picking up strangers and tossing them aside when she was through, this was no way to handle stress. She felt as though she was on the verge of crossing a line.
But Pretty Boy had other ideas. Forget the line. He had pushed her to the edge and was making her fall over to the intense drop below, while giving it to her good.
With ease, he tipped her just enough, his strength keeping her balanced as he pistoned into her. The completion of her pleasure was not within her control after all. He had taken her over completely. She struggled to stay clear minded enough to work her sensitive heat – the erotic electricity knocking her in and out of focus. His rock hard erection pumped into her with off-the-hook sugar. Never had she so exquisitely experienced such steel hard deliciousness slamming into her.
Dionne and Pretty Boy’s chemistry was unusually reactive. If there was anyone in her repertoire she had encountered like this, Pretty Boy knocked them from her consciousness. Here they were, strangers. She didn’t know a thing about him except that he was pretty and he could fuck. But his very touch and his contact set her on fire. Everywhere his flesh connected with her, lit up. From the nape of her neck where he brushed his lips, to where her insides clutched, to her electrified channel – she was wet and alive with his every stroke.
Dionne hardly knew where she was when her body burst within, alive with a thousand colors. Ripples and waves of blissful spasms overtook her as she came so hard around his even harder length. Pretty Boy lasted. His hips never tired. Her pleasure was his pleasure. She had entered into this union for herself and she was going to leave it that way. She didn’t care about his satisfaction and fortunately that worked out just fine. His male animal cries filled the room unabashedly. And the soulful nature of his
Dionne’s hands glided over the curves of her fine frame as she rode the stranger on the plush mattress in the king suite of The Mandarin Hotel. She could not be the only person who rented suites by the hour in San Francisco, or anywhere in Silicon Valley for that matter.
She loved the feel of her own skin. Her plump flesh was all so incredibly soft. She was sobering up now. Her mind cleared from the White Russians she was so fond of, though she could not remember her partner’s name. It didn’t matter. She would never see him again. And it wasn’t his name that made her pick him up. He was fine. His face was pretty and his build powerful. And at the moment, he was rocking her world. Her instincts had been dead on. The white boy could move. His body was rippling in a serpentine dance, driving into her.
And she told him. She gave him high praise indeed. “Fuck me, that’s it,” she said.
He had just about the bluest eyes she had ever seen. And yet there was something exotic about him. Pretty Boy.
It had been a long month and a tough break for her. Dionne Ellis had poured her heart and soul into her presentation. And it fell short. She was brainy. Beautiful. Brilliant. It was why they paid her the big bucks. So why was she the engine that could for other players, but when she sucked-up the courage to venture out on her own, something was always missing? Like a contract?
As the alcohol had all but left her and she was no longer the bold and inebriated Dionne, she lost interest in her boy toy fast. If she had been a little higher or in an otherwise different frame of mind, she might have had a better attitude. But Dionne being who she was, reached down in between her legs to touch herself. She was so wet and slippery and hot. She found her sweet spot and her rhythm and hurried Pretty Boy’s efforts along.
He liked it as much as she did. He started talking.
“Make it hot,” he whispered. “Come for me.”
Oh no, thought Dionne. I am not coming for you. If I am coming for anyone it is for myself. And then she promised herself that this was the last time. Hot as it was picking up strangers and tossing them aside when she was through, this was no way to handle stress. She felt as though she was on the verge of crossing a line.
But Pretty Boy had other ideas. Forget the line. He had pushed her to the edge and was making her fall over to the intense drop below, while giving it to her good.
With ease, he tipped her just enough, his strength keeping her balanced as he pistoned into her. The completion of her pleasure was not within her control after all. He had taken her over completely. She struggled to stay clear minded enough to work her sensitive heat – the erotic electricity knocking her in and out of focus. His rock hard erection pumped into her with off-the-hook sugar. Never had she so exquisitely experienced such steel hard deliciousness slamming into her.
Dionne and Pretty Boy’s chemistry was unusually reactive. If there was anyone in her repertoire she had encountered like this, Pretty Boy knocked them from her consciousness. Here they were, strangers. She didn’t know a thing about him except that he was pretty and he could fuck. But his very touch and his contact set her on fire. Everywhere his flesh connected with her, lit up. From the nape of her neck where he brushed his lips, to where her insides clutched, to her electrified channel – she was wet and alive with his every stroke.
Dionne hardly knew where she was when her body burst within, alive with a thousand colors. Ripples and waves of blissful spasms overtook her as she came so hard around his even harder length. Pretty Boy lasted. His hips never tired. Her pleasure was his pleasure. She had entered into this union for herself and she was going to leave it that way. She didn’t care about his satisfaction and fortunately that worked out just fine. His male animal cries filled the room unabashedly. And the soulful nature of his
Similar Books
