Content Advisory: Contains explicit m/f sex and language.
Laurel cringed as the gears of her Mercedes SLK crunched. Her foot pressed down too hard on the accelerator and the powerful engine roared, causing people on the downtown Los Angeles street to glance around to see who the road hog was.
Shrinking down in her seat, the open soft top offering her no place to hide, she inwardly cursed her father for buying her a stick shift. He knew she had trouble driving them but he’d insisted she needed to learn—something about the experience being ‘good for her skills’. She didn’t admit to anyone that the car had been a gift for her twenty-fifth birthday. Her father’s money wasn’t something she was proud of and she was even less proud of how she took it.
He paid for everything in her life; from the two bed duplex with a pool she lived in, to the credit card she maxed out every month. Laurel wanted to make her own way in life but she’d never known anything different than a five star life-style with no money worries and the thought of branching out on her own terrified her.
“Piece of shit,” she swore as the car refused to go into third. Instead, she hit first and the engine screeched once again and she jerked forward, the vehicle bunny hopping.
She groaned as lights loomed ahead. If she stopped, she might never get going again.
At the red light, Laurel slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a halt. A pushbike pulled up beside her, a young man mounted upon the seat. Sun glasses hid his eyes but he glanced over the top and Laurel got a glimpse of melting brown eyes. Sun-kissed curls trailed out of the bottom of his cap, kissing a broad, tanned throat. His t-shirt hugged his well-defined frame; gorgeous curved biceps, tattoos etched on the tanned skin, peeped from beneath the arms of his shirt.
He grinned, creating dimples in his cheeks. “Who taught you to drive?”
Laurel raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “Hey, don’t pick on a girl.”
“You should have dinner with me tonight,” he said. “I might even give you a driving lesson.”
“Yeah, sure,” she said. “Like I’m going to take driving advice from a guy on a push-bike.”
He shrugged and gave another cute, lopsided grin. “It’s my job,” he said, shrugging his shoulder to highlight the name of the courier company printed across his bag.
Someone behind blasted their horn and she looked up to find the lights had changed to green.
“You’ll regret it if you don’t,” he said. “Come on. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I end up being carted home on the back of a bike,” she laughed.
“There’s worse ways to ride.”
The horns blasted again and she crunched the gears into first.
“Seriously, if you’re going to drive a car like that, you’ve really got to learn how to drive stick.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, holding up a hand and waving him away. “Tell me something I’ve not heard before.”
She pulled away, leaving the tattooed, curly haired courier at the lights.
Glancing in her rearview mirror, she found him still stationary, watching her drive away.
A pang of remorse gripped her. Why hadn’t she said yes?
Laurel knew why; she never took any chances and her lack of bravery had done nothing for her life.
Sure, there was that old adage about money not buying happiness, but money sure as hell helped. She’d never been without a cash flow but she’d also learned to keep a lot of people at arm’s length. At some point, someone always seemed to ask her for a loan, and while she had no problem helping friends out, the paranoia that people only wanted to get to know her for the state of her father’s bank balance always lurked in the back of her mind.
Not having her own career didn’t help. Her own lack of self worth only highlighted the problem. She could act as confident as she wanted on the outside, with her two-hundred dollar hair style, her designer clothes and accessories, and flash car, but on the inside she didn’t feel worthy of anyone’s friendship.
Laurel was nothing but a shell of a person and a coward.
Back at her house, she couldn’t get the thought of the cute guy out of her head. She should have accepted his offer of dinner.
Maybe she still could? She knew where he worked. With her connections and well-known name, finding him again wouldn’t be difficult.
Laurel chewed at the cuticle of her thumb nail. Did she honestly intend on doing this? What if he showed up and thought she was nothing but a stalker.
Sudden brazenness took hold.
What the hell!
Even if he did think she was a stalker, he’d tell he to get lost and that would be the end of it. At least she’d tried. For once in her life, she’d take a chance.
With a thumping heart, Laurel picked up her phone. Dialing directory, she got the number of the courier service and got the operator to put her through.
“Good morning,” a bright voice chirped on the other end. “Eco-Couriers.”
“Good morning. My name is Laurel St. Martin, from the St. Martin estate and I had one of your couriers here today but he didn’t complete the pick-up. In fact, he left something of importance behind. I wondered if you would be able to send him back out.”
She heard computer keys tapping. “I’m sorry, Ms. St. Martin, I can’t seem to find anything in your name.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” she said, expecting this. “I often work directly with the courier but for the life of me I can’t remember what he’s called.” She let out a light tinkle of a laugh. “He’s tall, light-brown, almost blond curly hair. Oh, and he also has tattoos—half a sleeve down one arm.”
The woman on the other end said, “Oh, you must mean Chris.” She lowered her voice, a willing conspirator. “I don’t blame you for going directly to him. I’d work a bit more closely with him myself if I got the chance.” Her tone changed and she was back to the efficient, bubbly office worker. “Anyway, Ms. St Martin, I’m sorry he didn’t complete his pick-up. I’ll send him out to you as soon as possible. Can I take your address, please?”
Laurel reeled it off and hung up, her heart in her throat, her mouth dry.
She’d done it! She couldn’t believe she’d done it!
Laurel raced up stairs, and showered and shaved every hair from her body, running the razor over her delicate folds, shaving herself bare. She changed into the sexiest summer dress she owned, a white halter neck that clung to her curves. She was lucky enough that her breasts had so far managed to escape the effects of gravity. Forgoing a bra, only the tiniest slip of panties made up her underwear.
Checking herself out in the mirror, she knew she looked hot. Laurel pulled her blonde hair down from her ponytail, allowing it to settle around her shoulders. The tan she’d been working on most of the summer set off the white of the dress and if she looked closely, she could make out the dark shadows of her areole behind the material. The thought made her nipples harden and she clamped her thighs together as her juices moistened her panties and smooth-as-satin pussy.
She trembled with lust, almost tempted to reach under her own skirt and get started alone. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man but she suddenly wanted this one more than any before. Giving in momentarily, she reached between her thighs, tweaking her panties out of the way, and ran a finger down her slit. She was already wet and she pulled her finger away and brought it to her lips, tasting herself.
Laurel moaned and went to reach between her legs again, planning to give herself a trail run, when the doorbell chimed though the house.
Oh shit, he was here
.
With her cheeks flushed and her nipples poking suggestively through the material, she raced to the front door, swinging it open.
Recognition lit his handsome face but then the recognition melted into anger.
His brown eyes narrowed, “Don’t tell me this is more than a coincidence?”
“I regretted my decision,” she said, nerves firing through her.
“So you thought you’d order me here to your house like I’m some sort of fucking package?”
“No…I didn’t know how else to get hold of you…”
“And you told my office I hadn’t completed my job. Do you think that’s okay, meddling around in someone’s career? Just because you’re fucking rich doesn’t give you the right to order people around.”
She held out a hand, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No? So tell me what you want, rich-girl? Why did you order me here?”
“I…”
Chris stepped forward, his hand grabbing the back of her head, and he crushed his mouth against hers.
The contact sent flames rushing up from between her legs like a flash-fire. She hadn’t felt so alive in years. This was what she wanted; something real, something raw. She wanted to experience something in life that Daddy’s money couldn’t cushion.
He kissed her hard. Her body stiffened in response but then softened against him as the kiss grew deeper, his tongue searching her mouth.
Laurel stepped back, pulling him with her, tugging him into her living room.
In a single move, he tugged the tie of her halter and the dress dropped from her body. She stood before him in only her panties and heels. His eyes roamed her body; the anger morphing to lust.
Her pussy pulsed, moisture creaming her panties.
He jerked his head toward the couch. “I wanna watch you touch yourself.”
Laurel stepped back, the backs of her calves bumping the soft cushions of her couch. In a quick move, she rolled her panties down her thighs and over her heels, kicking them to the floor. She lay back and spread her thighs for him, exposing the glistening folds of her labia. As he watched, she smoothed one finger down her pussy and then dipped in, pushing inside herself.
Writhing against her own hand, she pushed in a second finger, spreading her thighs wider, making sure he saw every movement, the slick juice coating her digits.
His eyes wide, Chris wrestled with his pants, popping open his button fly and freeing his long, thick cock. He palmed his erection and touched himself with slow, firm strokes, his eyes locked on her swollen, wet pussy.
With her other hand, Laurel caressed her naked breast, her fingers twisting and pulling the hardened point of her nipple, the sensations causing her cunt to pulsate and contract around her fingers.
Laurel moaned and flung back her head, exposing her throat, losing herself in the pleasure tightening every muscle in her body.
She felt the dip of the couch as he knelt over her. The perfect ridges of his body pressed against hers, his hips pinning her wrist in place. She removed her hand and wrapped her fist around his cock. His mouth sought hers, pressing firm against her lips, his tongue teasing in delicate laps, exploring her mouth.
Laurel continued where he left off, running her hand down the hot length of his rock-hard dick, her fingers skimming the smooth head and then pumping back down to his base. He moaned above her and she used his dick to stimulate her pussy, rubbing the hot head over her clit and down again, coating him in her cream but never allowing him entry.
Wanting him naked, she tugged at his t-shirt, pulling it over his head, exposing his beautiful body. Tattoos ran down over his back and across his ribs, but the perfect curve of his pecks and abs remained unblemished. His nipples were sweet dusky buds and she bent to one, flicking the small nib with the tip of her tongue.
His cock nudged her entrance, pressing in firm insistence. Releasing her hold, she allowed him in. As hard as a piece of iron with a satin glove pushing inside her, his cock stretched the muscles of her pussy. The thick length of his dick pushed deep and she tightened around him, clamping down, holding him firm.
Chris held himself over her, his brown eyes staring deep into hers. Laurel reached up and laced her fingers in his soft curls, pressing his mouth down to hers.
He began to move inside with slow, shallow strokes, sending every nerve along the walls of her cunt firing in pleasure. Her hands ran over his skin; the breadth of his shoulders, the hard muscle, his flexing curves.
His cock slicked in and out of her wet heat, driving deeper and harder with every stroke. Laurel cried out, her nails digging into the muscles of his back.
Pausing for a moment, holding himself still inside her, Chris reared back to his knees. He pulled her legs up, resting her stiletto heels on his shoulders. He stared down at her open slit, the round girth of his dick stretching her open. With her legs spread in the air, Laurel propped herself up on her elbows, joining him watching the thick length of his cock as he began, once again, to thrust into her pussy.
Just watching set her on the edge of her orgasm; had she ever seen anything so sexy? Her lubrication slicked his length and he grabbed her ass, his fingers sinking into her peachy flesh, pulling her hard onto his erection, driving deeper and deeper.
Unable to hold herself up any longer, Laurel fell back against the couch. She reached between her thighs once again, her finger pressing firm circles over her clit as he slammed harder and faster into her, his eyes still locked on the sight of his cock entering her cunt.
Fireworks burst inside her head and she squeezed her eyes shut as pleasure jolted though her body in sparks, her internal muscles compressing down on his dick. With the deep shudders of her pussy bringing him on, Chris slammed into her. He held himself deep as he came, his head rolling back, his eyes closed, crying out. He jerked inside her, once, twice, before finally coming to rest.
He dropped down onto his back beside her, panting. With her breathing matching his, she kissed his hard shoulder, tasting salt on his skin. Laurel hooked her thigh over his, fitting herself into his gorgeous body.
When their breathing returned to normal, Laurel dared to speak.
“Are you still angry with me” she murmured against the velvet slip of his earlobe.
He twisted to face her, pulling her against the solid warmth of his body. “I don’t know,” he said. “Are you going to let me take you out for dinner?”
Laurel grinned. “Are you going to let me drive?”
He rolled her on her back, pinning her wrists down beside her head. “I don’t think you’re in any position to negotiate,” he said, and lowered his mouth to kiss her.
For once, I’ve taken a chance, she thought as his lips made contact with hers. And boy, has it paid off.
~*~
M.K. Elliott
Romance and Erotica with an edge...
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Copyright © 2011 M.K. Elliott
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.
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