to give up her plan of making him want her and then leaving him stranded. If she made herself crazy with wanting him in the meanwhile…It was the price one paid for playing with a fire as hot as Jordan Cantrell. “It’s vanilla sex I make men pay through the nose for. I can’t stand to be bored when I fuck.”
The frank language quickened her heart and seeped juice onto her panties. Danica turned on the cart’s bench seat, bringing her left leg under her and her right knee up to rub against his shaft with each of her finger’s strokes. The angle provided him a view up her skirt to her damp panties, and his gaze took no time in wandering there.
His pupils dilated, his breathing picking up. The tight set of his lips suggested it took all of his control to keep his hands at his sides. Her miscreant pussy ached to give him the go-ahead to touch her for free.
Jordan’s gaze lifted, traveling slowly up her body until he eyed her mouth so intently her lips burned for his kiss. Instinctively, she swayed toward him.
“What would twenty get me?”
Danica jerked back on the seat, feeling as though he’d slapped her.
What happened to thinking she looked good? She spent hours shopping for clothes that strategically hid her disfigured body while playing up her twin assets of naturally full, high breasts. Appearance alone had to be worth a couple hundred, right?
She narrowed her eyes. “Last night you surprised me into giving you a free fuck. Do you really think I’d sleep with you a second time for less than what a good meal costs?”
“I was talking thousands.”
Thousands? Good God, when the man shelled out for sex, he shelled out for sex. It was almost impossible to feel insulted over that much cash. Almost.
She lifted her hand from his cock. “C’mon, Jordan. I’m not some whore you pick up on the street corner. If you want the good stuff, you’re going to have to pay for it.”
“What do you usually get?”
Now there was the way to insult her, by suggesting she made a practice of selling her body. When precisely had she stopped owning a medical resort and started owning an island brothel?
Danica resisted the urge to put her hand back in his lap to do some serious damage to his nuts. For what he was implying, he deserved to suffer to the max. She caressed the bulge of his cock with her knee. “It’ll cost you fifty for a week of unlimited access.”
Jordan’s eyebrows shot up. “Jesus, at that rate, I would think the expansion would have happened long ago.”
Ah-ah-ah. Hesitation. Couldn’t be having that.
Going with vengeance, she crawled onto his lap and straddled him. Her skirt bunched up, riding higher on her bare thighs as she rubbed her sex against the hard ridge of his penis. “No way, baby. Raw materials and labor are less expensive down here, but they still aren’t free.” She gyrated her pelvis, and her clit scraped against his pubis. Moaning with the intensity of sensation rocketing through her, she grabbed hold of the seat on either side of his head and circled a second, pussy-flooding time. “Do we have a deal?”
“I want the terms in writing.”
Danica ceased her circling. His words didn’t match the lust sizzling in his eyes. They sounded planned. Who the heck was she dealing with, an undercover cop attempting to bust her for illicit behavior?
Her belly tightened with the realization he could well be a cop, or some similar law enforcer. She didn’t know what Jordan did for a living, and his need to know about the resort went well beyond what should concern a patient. It would also explain why he’d been so quick to accuse the place of operating unethically.
She shut out her restless stomach to give him a feline smile. “And open myself up to libel. I don’t think so.”
“Then there’s no deal.”
If he was a law enforcer, she had nothing to hide. If he wasn’t, he deserved everything he had coming to him.
She leaned into him fully, teasing her breasts against his chest as she brought her lips an inch from his. She ground against his dick, inhaling the warmth of his breath, letting him feel her own on his face. Then she eased her mouth to his ear and whispered, “That’s too bad. I was going to show you my favorite move with a sand wedge. In case you’re wondering, it doesn’t have anything to do with golf.”
Danica pushed off the back of the seat, propelling her over-aroused body to the passenger’s side of the cart. She crossed her legs and eased her skirt into place along her thighs. Pretending her pussy wasn’t quivering for release, her clit throbbing for his touch, she pointed into the distance. “There’s a small clubhouse over the next hill. I never got rid of my dad’s clubs. They should fit you fine.”
Danica slid out of the golf cart, grabbed her nine iron from the bags hooked to the back, and moved onto the fairway. Jordan sank back on the seat, pinched the bridge of his nose, and groaned.
How the fuck was he supposed to concentrate on or enjoy his game when for the last twenty minutes, he hadn’t been able to figure out what was going through her mind?
Would she have slept with him if he agreed to her outrageous deal? Did she regularly give prospective clients sexual benefits as he’d first guessed?
She was sure as hell acting like it.
With each swing, it became clearer she didn’t care where her golf ball landed. Instead, she focused on driving him mad with the tantalizing wiggle of her ass and provocative thrust of her breasts. She was playing to his dick, and his dick was ready to play her right back.
Reaching her ball in the middle of the fairway, she lobbed what should have been an easy shot onto the green into a sand trap. “Oops.”
Oops his ass. That was no accident.
He’d been around Danica long enough to note and appreciate she moved in a manner as ergonomically friendly to her body as possible, squatting to pick up items below knee level. She didn’t squat to retrieve the rake lying in the center of the sand trap but bent at the waist and dipped so far down, her black skirt rose up her plump backside to expose pale purple panties.
The color was darker at the crotch. Jordan’s cock twitched with the idea she was dripping wet for him. He could toss her down in the sand and be inside her hot folds in seconds. The move might prove pricey. Would the details be free? “What is your favorite move with a sand wedge?”
Tossing the rake onto the grass, she winked at him. “Show me the cash and I’ll show you the move.”
Without her signature stating she agreed to trade sexual acts for money, he shouldn’t give in to a damned thing. But maybe if he agreed to this one small thing without written proof, the next time around he would be able to get that proof. And maybe, with his body rock solid and his testosterone going wild, he didn’t give a shit about proving anything but how mind-blowing it felt sliding inside her tight sheath.
He stood from the cart. Pulling his wallet from the back pocket of his shorts, he thumbed through the bills. “I have roughly five hundred. Will that cover it?”
Indecision flickered through Danica’s eyes. She considered the money a good fifteen seconds before
