Page 18 of Deep in You

Reminiscing, really.

Did last night really happen? It feels like a dream now, a distant fantasy that couldn’t possibly have been real. No way did I find a guy that hot, a guy who was into the same kinks as me, and willing to get so down and dirty with me in the bedroom. No, more than willing—excited to.

That’s why they call them escorts, I remind myself. He’s paid to do that. To make me feel totally relaxed and at ease with myself. To make it seem like he’s feeling just as much as I am about our hot, wild night together.

My belly tenses. I bet he’s off planning another wild night like that with some other client. I’m probably just one in a million women with freakish kinks who he’s banged.

But something about it felt different. Felt like more than just a monetary exchange, a paid hookup.

Unbidden, I find myself opening my phone and flipping through to the website. To ogling the photos on his profile again.

Fucking hell, he looks even hotter in person than he does on this site.

Still, he doesn’t look too shabby on here.

I’m ogling one of his shirtless photos when Jen arrives and startles me into pocketing my phone.


“You okay?” she asks, eying me strangely.

“Of course!” I answer, my voice too high-pitched, my smile too wide. Really subtle.

Luckily Jen has never been the curious type. We work side-by-side in the back for most of the morning. Then, at lunch break, I’m back to the same site, scrolling through the pictures again.

My pussy tightens at the memory of the way his thick cock felt inside me. And his filthy mouth, goddamn. Or the way his cock tasted when he deep-throated me, my back pinned against the wall by that dildo…

My clit throbs with need. Fuck. At this rate I’m going to have to sneak into the bathroom to rub one out.

I duck out front, phone in hand, to avoid Jen stumbling across me again. And of course, I run smack into Lara coming in from the street, just arriving for her afternoon shift.

“Hey, careful there,” she scolds as she catches my phone.

I reach for it, flushing bright red.

Too late.

Lara squints at the screen. Her eyes go wide. Then her smirk does too. “Is this him, then?”

“No,” I spit, grabbing the screen and turning it off. My cheeks are still telltale neon red. “Maybe,” I amend with a sigh.

She laughs. “Well he’s definitely ripped. So how did telling him you weren’t interested anymore go?”

I am in danger of setting this store on fire with my blush.

Lara’s eyes widen all over again. Her mouth drops. “You didn’t.”

“I…”

“Oh my god. Look at your face.” She bursts into laughter. “Of course you did. Shit, girl, you are glowing.”

“Shut up,” I mumble, waving a hand.

“How was it?” She grabs my hand and, with a quick check over my shoulder at the back of the store where Jen is still busy working away, tugs me outside, to the safety of the parking lot out front. “Tell me everything,” she gushes.

“It was… fucking amazing,” I admit.

“Details,” she presses in a low whisper.

My cheeks burn even brighter. “Hell no! TMI is a real thing, Lara.”

“Oh god, you’re the worst. But fine, was he into the same stuff as you at least?”

I swallow hard, and manage to nod.

She beams. “That’s great! Hey, a guy just as insanely kinky as you, right? What is your thing, is it butt stuff?”

I groan and wave a hand in her face. “Stop it, Lara.”

“Foot fetish! I bet it’s a foot fetish.”

I burst into laughter. “Stop guessing.”

“Food? Maybe you like whipped cream smeared all over? I mean, you love baked goods…”

“You are the absolute worst,” I mutter as I push past her and storm back into the bakery.

“Well, at least you got your money’s worth, right?” she calls after me.

That’s when I stumble over my own feet, halfway back into the front of the store. Because I realize… I never paid.

At least, I don’t think I did? I never put my credit card on that website—I selected the cash payment option when it asked.

“What’s wrong?” Lara comes up beside me to peer at my expression. “What, was it that pricey?”

I shake my head. “It was fine,” I bluff. Then I sidestep her and pull up the site on my phone again, scrolling to payments. But nope, no card info. And I definitely chose cash. Damn. Maybe he charges me later, like an invoice or something? I refresh my email. But I don’t have any new messages from him. And I don’t have anything in my inbox about payments, either.

Weird.

Lara, for her part, has finally given up on asking questions, it seems. She turns to head back inside. “Well, at least you’ll be a little less of a stressball now,” she mumbles.

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