Sharing the Heat

Sharing the Heat

1

Jarred stirred on hearing her open the door to the shower room. It had followed the soft rustle of Emilia’s clothes as she undressed, the scratch of her bracelet on the dressing table, the soft but unmistakable sound of her sigh. He thought she would have been home earlier.

“Did everything go okay?” he asked, reaching for the switch of the bedside light.

“Did he treat you right?”

“I got paid, if that’s what you mean, yes.”

She stood naked before him, saw Jarred’s eyes drift over her but she was in no mood for what he so obviously wanted from her, least of all his usual interrogations. She wanted to simply wash, go to bed and sleep. There would be her real job to go to in the morning and she would use that time to put from her mind what she had fallen into doing to make ends meet, to keep her apartment that was mortgaged but not so bad that finding the monthly payments had become a dragging struggle.

No, it was the service charge that Jarred’s company levied and seemed to eat into what she brought home every month and after she had paid to keep a roof over her head, or some of that cost. After a few months of late payments, and a visit from a realtor, Jarred Fassbender had called round and spoken to her about where things stood between them. That talk went along with a suggestion of how she could help herself, and please him in the process.

“I sure don’t want you to lose this place…put you out on the street, so to speak,” he had smiled along with an appraising glance over her and seeming to like what he saw.

“That’s where I’ll be though, along with others in this condo…if you don’t ease up on your demands for money. The pandemic’s over, the fallout is still hitting me and so many more…”

“But you’re a good-looking woman, still young…have what it takes to get by.”

She had been too shocked, by what he had implied as a way out, for her to be angry. That came later, only for her to consider the proposal that he had then gone on to lay out before her, the rules of the ‘game’, where she would meet those looking for company and special, discreet services. Jarred had agreed that she keep more of the money she got paid by meeting him, just as she soon got into doing as an ‘escort for the evening’.

This all came after a messy divorce and a break up of her home, the rush to find a place she could call her own and a time when she dared to look forward to better times. Her lawyer had secured a settlement way in excess of what she was due, but then Cindy Bennett had made a name for herself for achieving more than was realistically expected in a contested case.

It was all history now. The present had become all consuming, in time and money, in what she did to balance work, her apartment and an after-hours life that no one, who looked at her could ever suspect, those she still met socially ever thought possible. Emilia Paulson a hooker? No way!

Jarred found her physically beautiful, her heavy breasts only too natural and unmarked by any surgeon’s knife to firm them. He had told her this even before he had undressed her before that first time in the sack. He said she had presence, and she knew what he meant because she stayed in shape, was graceful in her movements and dressed well, or money allowed. She watched what she ate, was not obsessive about her diet, but she could never conceal that she was big breasted, not firm, was tall and broad-shouldered, not elfin, and she was spirited.

She wanted to shower and wash away the Haymana Escort touch and smell of the man she had been with. The door to the shower room remained closed. Good looking, rugged even, as Jarred was, his appearance was a disguise for all that went on his head where it concerned business.

She slicked the water off her skin in long strokes of her hands, then stepped from the shower, checked her skin for any marks. Her pussy ached and her nipples felt tender. She would concede that the guy had been good with her but had expected her to bring rubbers. She protected herself from STD’s in every way she could.

‘Just who are you, now?’ she asked her reflection in the mirror as a favoured cream was soothed onto her skin, particularly the heavy tumble of her breasts, her belly, between her thighs that also ached. She’d had to play a real part for the man she had been with before, twice now; a man who paid well and treated her right.

Business trips to the city had become more frequent, ‘on account of you, Emilia,’ he had told her but an hour or so ago.

She would play the courtesan, if she had to, but wondered how long this double life would have to be pursued, and the right guy not met. She sure wanted to be loved and not just used, the word ‘love’ so manipulated when she was on her back and some guy was in her or she was on top, and he worked her body for his pleasure alone. She did have to turn off her feelings, somehow, when she played the game.

She had to do that again now, in her apartment, and a lover asleep or drifting off in her bed. Jarred was a means to an end, just as she was to him.

She brushed out her auburn hair with it coppery red highlights that fell to just below her shoulders, her perfectly oval, smooth skinned face, seen looking back from the mirror, the outline fuzzy from the steam of the shower. There was scarcely a laughter line to be seen by her lightly made-up lips, just a hint of pink lipstick still there, her eyebrows pencil thin and slightly arched over soft green eyes, her directness of gaze a sign of her confidence. That could never quite leave her in spite of what she went through.

For a big, shapely woman, she had grace. Jarred had told her so and that captivated him, her sense of dress correct, at odds some would say with the softly challenging look she first gave to strangers whom she called on. None would ever be told where she lived.

Jarred knew, so where could she run to except her home and where he would often be, no let up from what she did for him and so often with him. She could not fault him as a lover. Shared with him what was off limits with those he referred her to.

Jealousy was not in his nature, and she didn’t care enough for him to have that emotion take a hold in her.

She slipped on a short nightie, saw that Jarred paid her no attention, and tugged on the light cord. Somehow she would get through these times, her secret life that she had stepped into, all on account of him.

 

2

She had slept fitfully and had woken at her usual time, Jarred sleeping soundly beside her through the early hours of the morning, the warmth of his naked body under the thin duvet of strange comfort. Now, she heard the clatter of cutlery and breakfast plates come from the small galley kitchen, the aroma of something cooking reaching her and arousing the gnaw of hunger.

Her diaphanous nightdress revealed skimpy panties, and in spite of the need to get ready for work, she felt sexy and would let their early İranlı Escort morning moments play out.

She kept quiet and gazed at him, found Jarred impossibly sexy, hunky in just his lounge pants, the sway of his prick unmistakable. She was tall, but Jarred was some six foot two, broad-chested, muscular in his arms, and he had piercing blue eyes. It all went so well with a shock of sandy brown hair that matched his stubble. He had to be the most attractive property man in town; that he was also a pimp, or that he ran an escort ring, beside the point.

“Scrambled egg…a sprig of parsley…and a slice of French toast…it’s all I can rustle up and find in your fridge…or cupboards.”

“I’ll deal with it…I’m used to caring for one, remember?”

“I sure do. You never let me forget…”

“Good…” She ate quickly and in silence, could not help but look his way. His eyes seemed to be on her or had never left her from the moment she had sat down. ” I know better than to ask you to cook breakfast for me more often…”

“I’ve been thinking whether to keep on using you…getting you to work to pay off the costs of this place…”

“I’ll know when I’ve had enough…then I’ll tell you, Jarred.”

“You misunderstand…I don’t want you doing tricks anymore…besides, I missed you last night…the first one I’ve been able to be here with you for quite a while.”

Emilia gave him a thin smile. “I’m sure you found compensation for that…”

“Not as I find it with you…no,” he answered, slapping her bum as she tried to move past him. Her nightdress didn’t ease the sting of him doing that. “Don’t go yet…there’s time for us…”

“But not this…”

“Yes, this…don’t argue, Emilia! It will get you nowhere….”

His voice was cold. She knew him to have a fearsome grip and his hand now took a hold of her hair and he pulled her towards him as he led her back into the kitchen and pushed her onto the small table. She sat on the edge, her legs splayed and where he sought to be open to his gaze and touch. His fingers brushed over her opening. She shuddered, reached out to clamp on his arms in her efforts to restrain him.

“Not now…not here, please Jarred!”

He had shoved off his lounge pants, and she gasped to see his erection spring free, that trembling length of flesh arcing up and its tip glistening with pre-cum. He seemed desperate for her attention to it.

Her thighs were exposed, her pussy lips glistened, and she felt his urgent caresses to them, the press of his fingers into her. He bent to take her breasts in his mouth, squeezed them and did so urgently, the fabric of her nightdress no hindrance.

He said not a word as he moved to stand by her side, coaxed her to lean in before he pressed his penis tip to her lips, pushed until she opened her mouth and he [assed over her lips and started moving, thrusting deeper into her throat. She gagged, spluttered for air. She felt him move away, had heard his gasps of pleasure that her practised ways had soon aroused in him. She saw a strong hand pull on his prick, but it was so hard, trembled as he worked it.

“You just hold on,” she commanded and received no reply.

The guy she pleasured last night had lost it only too quickly after she taken him in these ways but Jarred had sublime control.

He moved away and tugged at her panties, all but tore them over her thighs and threw them onto the floor at his feet. He had become wild and unpredictable, behaved like a savage as he moved to stand between Karapürçek Escort her legs and gripped them to his waist.

“You know better than to do it this way!” she cried out.

“We do it differently…the customer has to be pleased if he’s to pay….”

“Jarred! Oh God! Jarred…Jarred!”

He had buried his face in her sweet heat, licked her pussy lips from top to bottom, darted his tongue in and out and lapped up her juices. She gripped his head and kept him to her. She gushed, felt it to have been a while since she had felt quite like this, pursuing a wild fuck.

“Now this, lady..”

He teased her pussy lips with the tip of his penis, tapped against them rhythmically before he thrust into her, violently, and with no further preambles.

“You animal…you wild man!” she screamed and loved what was happening. He grunted in his efforts to take her, and she knew that it was wildly pleasurable for him too, now, her resistance just a come on.

“And you’re my little whore…only you’re not so little…you’re beautiful and blessed with these…your wonderful tits.” His lips tugged on her nipples, pinched them until she yelped in pain and pleasure. The table scraped on the floor, tapped the wall as they rutted without reprieve.

She gasped and shuddered in her pleasure, could feel the tingle of her approaching rushes, fingered her swollen clit and felt her pleasure spread through her belly as she ground on his cock, bucked her hips off the table as he towered over her and pounded. She was near, felt that in him too, wanted to hold back cumming and hoped she would manage that until he was there to share in it.

“Jarred…Jarred!” She gasped, did that in time with him.

She couldn’t hold them back, the tingles in her pussy and contractions in her belly as she gripped on him became the rush of her orgasm. She couldn’t keep from screaming, had not done that with the man of last night, but she was bound to Jarred…for…for as long as she needed that to be so. She’d be his whore, just as he expected her to play the role for him when a client called to ask for her. “Go on…oh, go on Jarred!”

She couldn’t keep from gasping in her pleasure; kept on squeezing and jerking on that length of flesh as she languished in the afterglow of their orgasms, the most intense she had known in her times with him.

“Jeez…Jeez, woman! I don’t want you sharing that with anyone else…got me?”

She eased him off her, shivered on feeling the residual caress of his penis as it brushed her swollen pussy lips. It glistened, the skin pink and deeply veined. She touched his sac, kneaded his balls for a few clamps, ten let him go. He kissed her.

They had shared in the pleasure.

“I’m sure glad I got the coil and other things to keep me safe. I don’t want to get banged up with your kid! I’m playing the role you wanted for me…to get by. I’m not your possession, Jarred…got that?”

He followed her into the shower, said nothing in reply to that as they washed off what had been spread on their skins.

“I got that, Emilia…and…and I think you’ve gone into credit.”

It wasn’t until they had showered and dressed, and she had closed the door on him, that she found the envelope on the table where they had fucked.

“It’s been quite a night and morning,” she laughed softly as the money, in large denomination bills, was counted, “profitable too..” She might get to like this way of life a while longer, take some control of it after all.

After the weeks she had been at Jarred’s bidding, she had also created her own contacts list. She knew there would be messages on her iPhone. They would be read as she made her way into work. Just what she did might change, but she’d be in control of that, just as she had wanted all along.

Money might yet buy her everything and bring her true man into her life, somehow.

♥