Big O Box Set

I collapse forward onto the bed. I listen to the rubber snap of him rolling off the condom and tying it. Then he falls beside me a moment later, one hand resting on the plug in my ass.

“Oh, I can…” I reach for it, but he catches my wrist and folds my hands in front of me.

“Relax,” he commands yet again. And with a soft popping sound, he draws it straight out of my ass. Before I can make a move or offer to do anything, he’s already up off the bed, heading to the bathroom to take care of that and the condom. I’m not used to that. Not used to sharing my toys—or having help after everything is said and done. It’s nice to have someone else here. Someone else to come up with the ideas, someone else to take care of me at the end.

Not to mention someone else whose backside I can ogle while he does it. I smirk as I drink in Caleb’s sexy ass, and the sharp muscles of his back, almost as sexy as that V-cut on his front.

Then I roll onto my back and stretch. Before I even finish, he’s already back, lying beside me to wrap his arms around my waist.

“Shit,” I murmur, curling into his side. “That was…”

“Fucking hot as hell,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss my temple.

“Yeah,” I manage. I’m not sure how else to sum it up. I’d fantasized about this for so long—finding someone as kinky as me, someone who was into my same fantasies. Someone who’d be willing to get down and dirty with me. Not to mention have some fun with my toy collection.

But I never imagined it would feel like this. So comfortable, so easy. My other boyfriends or hookups would all act horrified when I told them about my kinks. If they let me talk them into trying anything, I still felt like a freak, a dirty weirdo who was corrupting them, or totally insane for wanting any of this.

Caleb, on the other hand, is just as filthy as I am. Maybe more so. And he doesn’t care. He doesn’t judge me for who I am. On the contrary, he seems to fucking love it.

“Is it always like that?” I ask softly, curious. Is this how clients and escorts always feel?

If so, I can’t say I blame people for hiring escorts. This is so… comfortable. So relaxed. He liked everything we did. Was into everything I was. Didn’t judge me, in a way no one ever has. He just tried it all, no questions asked. Hell, he was enthusiastic about it.

“Fuck no,” he murmurs, his voice low and sleepy.

I swallow hard. What does that mean? Is it usually better? Did he enjoy himself as much as I did? It certainly sounded like it. But maybe I was wrong.

Before I can work out a way to ask what he means, though—to ask how this time was different—the tone of his breathing shifts. It goes deep, even, and his chest rises and falls against my ear in a soothing, relaxing rhythm. It lulls my eyelids into going heavy, my own breathing into slowing.

Without even realizing it, I nestle closer to Caleb, his warm arms still wrapped around me. I fall asleep with the sound of his breathing in my ear, his scent wrapped around me, and the faint, pleasant tingling sensation in my body of being totally, completely satisfied.

5

I wake up feeling like a million bucks. Even the usual shrieking tone of my alarm clock doesn’t unsettle me. It sounds better today, more manageable given how fucking great I feel.

My body is sore as hell, yes, but it’s the best kind of ache. A bone-deep feeling that tells me I’ve finally found someone who can really, truly satisfy me. Give me everything I want—everything I ever imagined and then some.

I stretch, luxuriating in this feeling, the warm, pleasant glow that suffuses my whole body.

That’s when I realize, stretching feels way too easy.

I roll over and find the bed beside me still warm, Caleb’s scent still on my sheets. I crack one eyelid and squint at the room. Nobody.

I roll the other direction and sit up to peer at the bathroom. Lights off, door wide open. Not there either.

I reach out to turn off the alarm clock. Then I stifle a yawn and sit up. But there are just my toys neatly stacked beside the bed, all of them squeaky clean. None of Caleb’s clothes are here anymore—not the boxers or shirt he left strewn around the place.

“Caleb?” I call, hesitant, knowing it’s a long shot.

The dead silence of my house answers the question. He’s gone.

I collapse back onto the pillows with a deep sigh. It’s fine, I tell myself. This is what I’m paying for, after all. I hired him to have a little fun. To get the release I was craving—the one I needed after two years without a partner in my bed. That’s all.

So why do I feel emptier now than I did before I was filled?

I get to the bakery on time today. Lara comes in later on Saturdays, so I open the storefront myself and set up the front of house while I wait on Jen to come in. She and Carl trade off on Saturdays. Normally it should be a lighter load today, but after the delays yesterday, we’ll still need to work our asses off to catch up.

I’m not looking forward to it.

Lara keeps insisting we should hire a third assistant, or that I should let her help out in the kitchen. Or at least let Jen or Carl take over lead chef position once a week, as practice.

“They’re good kids,” Lara keeps saying. “If you give them enough instruction, they can handle taking care of things for a day or two a week. To give you some time to recharge.”

I know, deep down, that she’s right—I’ll have to let them take on more responsibility sooner or later. Lara can supervise them when I’m gone—and hell, at this point, Jen and Carl have been with us for so long that they could probably handle running the whole store on their own for a while if need be.

But it’s so hard to trust anyone else with my baby. I built this company from scratch. It’s doing so well right now. But I’m all too aware of how fast successes like this can collapse in the food world. One wrong step, one terrible review, one vengeful customer with too much influence, and your whole empire can come crashing down around you.

I refuse to let that happen to my baby. Which means I refuse to leave my baby in anyone else’s hands, even for a single day.

Today, however, I’m distracted from said baby for once. It takes me three tries to count the register right, and I give up on balancing the account book entirely this morning. I’ll handle it in the afternoon, hopefully once my dose of caffeine kicks in, or once Lara shows up to smack my forehead and snap me back to reality.

In the meantime, I can’t stop daydreaming.

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.