Rhiannon Elizabeth Irons The Escort

Ryan extended his hand to Rochelle, pulling her across the bed, closer to him. The scent of his cologne flooded her senses. Soft. Strong. Masculine. He smelled as good as he looked.


“Do you want to undress me?” he asked, coyly.


Rochelle bit her lip as she clumsily fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” she told him, her voice cracking as she avoided his intense gaze. “I’m a bit out of practice.”


He smiled, chuckling softly as he pulled his shirt open, sliding it off his shoulders and discarding it on the chair.


Rochelle swallowed hard, her eyes locked onto his washboard stomach. She wanted nothing more than to run her hands over his abs, feeling every muscle beneath her palms. She wanted to kneel on the bed, wrap her arms around his neck, and kiss him passionately. She wanted to be bold, to give into her carnal desires. Every fiber of her being ached. She wanted to feel his hands on her body, prying open her thighs. She wanted to feel his breath on her as he kissed her body. Instead, she froze, gazing dumbfounded at his chiseled torso.


He cupped her chin in his hand, tilting her head upwards. For the first time that evening, Rochelle looked Ryan in the eyes. His eyes were deep blue like the ocean, with a hint of kindness to them that she had never seen before.


He lowered his head, his lips pressing against hers. It was a soft kiss. Sensual. Sweet.


With a gentle nudge, he laid Rochelle down. His mouth traced an invisible trail down her neck, stopping to kiss her collarbone. Her breathing became more ragged as he continued his journey, exploring her body.


Ryan smiled as he heard her gasps. They were music to his ears. With expert skill, his hand snaked around her back, unclasping her bra. “I like your bra,” he said, as he tossed it aside. “Black lace. It’s pretty.”


Rochelle’s hand covered her naked breasts. She could feel her cheeks burning and she knew she was blushing. She tried covering as much of herself as possible; a feeble attempt at hiding her obvious flaws. Ryan’s eyes met hers and she turned her head. He kissed her neck, his hand cupping her breast, tweaking her nipple gently between his fingers.


Rochelle’s hands fell away, allowing Ryan to see her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him.


Ryan slid down her body, feeling the curves of her flesh. He placed his mouth over her nipple, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud, feeling her body arch beneath him as she moaned in ecstasy.


Rochelle gasped as Ryan’s fingers plunged inside her. She panted, eyes rolling back as she gave herself over to him. Ryan watched her response, slipping another finger inside her, his thumb rubbing her clitoris. His free hand stroked his erection. He smiled to himself as he watched her outstretched hands claw at the bedsheets. He could feel her body clenching, as she rode the wave of her first orgasm of the night.


Damn, it was sexy.


Rochelle’s eyes fluttered open long enough to catch Ryan’s eye. He gave her a cheeky smile as he withdrew his fingers, replacing it with the head of his cock.


With a swift thrust of his hips, he was buried deep inside her. Rochelle gasped, her hands gliding gently over his arms, feeling his biceps as he held onto her. She watched him as he made love to her. He watched himself sliding in and out, his cock glistening with her juices from her previous orgasm.


Rochelle changed tactics, raking her nails along his side, feeling his strength as her loving, soft strokes caressed his flesh. Sensing the change, and Rochelle’s desire for something more intimate, Ryan glanced up at her. Her hair was matted to her forehead, cascading down over her shoulders in a tangled mess. Her skin was flushed as she ground her hips against him. She bit her lip. He knew that she didn’t think she was attractive, but right now, in this moment, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He lowered his mouth to hers, their lips touching. Eagerly, Rochelle lifted her head to accept his kiss.

This was the exact kind of romance that had been missing from her life.


As they parted, she silently begged him not to stop. She turned her head, exposing her neck to him. Earlier that evening he had turned her on by kissing the delicate skin. She hoped he would nuzzle her again.


Ryan suddenly felt a tightening in his stomach. Rochelle was rocking back against him, her soft moans flooded his ears. He felt her body tense as she climaxed. Her orgasm brought on his own, his cock spewing forth his seed.


He held her until his body stopped shaking. Being the gentleman he was, Ryan quickly excused himself, while Rochelle came down from her high.


Rochelle mumbled a protest as Ryan left the bedroom, disappearing into the bathroom. Unsure of what to do Rochelle moved herself up in the bed, resting a small pillow beneath her head. She glanced down at herself, suddenly ashamed of her size. As Ryan entered the room, she found herself draping an arm over her stomach, crossing her legs at the ankles and rolling slightly onto her side, away from him.


Ryan climbed into the bed with her, wrapping her up in his arms, her head on his chest. He had twenty more minutes to please her. Absentmindedly, he ran his fingertips across her body, feeling her jump at his touch. He could tell she was uncomfortable.


Rochelle rolled onto her stomach, propping herself up with her elbow. Ryan continued to stroke her naked body, feeling her quiver at his touch.


“How do you feel?” he asked, breaking the silence.


Disappointed. Upset. Incredibly ashamed and guilt ridden, Rochelle thought, as she stared at his bare chest. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “Two orgasms in a night is pretty good, don’t you think?”


Ryan chuckled and lazily scratched his chest. A scar on Rochelle’s lower back caught his eye. He sat up, moving closer to inspect it. He traced a finger over the imperfection. He knew she was self-conscious about her body. She had told him that numerous times in their initial contact. What he didn’t know was to the extent. Sure, she was bigger than most women he saw in his line of work, but that didn’t faze him one bit.


Rochelle shifted her hips as Ryan continued to trace his finger up and down the scar. He sensed how uncomfortable she was so he moved his focus to her lower back tattoo, his fingers dancing around the solid outline of the fairy. Rochelle relaxed. At least he had moved on from the scar.


Without having to say anything, Ryan continued to trace the tattoo with his finger tip, admiring her body in the process. He knew she had been to hell and back, courtesy of her ex-boyfriend. Before their tryst that evening, she told him about her abusive ex who, upon finding out she was pregnant with his child, beat her within an inch of her life, leaving scars across her body from where he stabbed her with a box cutter. Tears had formed in her eyes when she told him that, because of the attack, not only had she lost the baby, the damage he caused was so severe that she could no longer have children.


Ryan touched her scar again. He watched her wiggle her hips, directing him to touch anything else but that. He moved back up the bed, propping himself up on the pillows.


“I shouldn’t have laid like this,” Rochelle mused, chewing on her fingernail. Ryan arched an eyebrow, asking why not. “I have scars,” she whispered, ducking her head, tears prickling the corners of her eyes.


Ryan touched her back, rubbing gently. Rochelle was one of the nicest, gentlest souls he had ever met. He couldn’t imagine why someone would hurt her in such a violent way.


“They’re not ugly,” he said softly, touching her hair, moving it away from her eyes. “They’re a road map of all that you’ve survived.”


Rochelle stared up at him, her blue-green eyes poking out from behind a matted blonde mess. Her tongue darted out as she wet her lips. She looked like she wanted to say something to him, but she couldn’t find the words.


“Do you mind if I take a shower?” Ryan asked.


“No. Go ahead.”


Ryan kissed her forehead as he made his way into the bathroom.


As the water from the shower flowed, Rochelle leant against the headboard of the bed, covering her body with a pillow. With her legs stuck out straight, she faintly smiled as she caught a glimpse of her bunny tattoo in the dim lighting.


The shower stopped. Rochelle nervously began chewing her nail, checking the time on the bedside clock. 9PM. Her time was up.


Ryan entered the bedroom and began dressing. Rochelle stared at the wall, unsure of how to react. Her nerves had returned, her stomach was churning. She faintly heard him ask if she was alright. She nodded her head, mumbling that she was fine.


Once he was dressed, Ryan picked up the black envelope that had his name scrawled across it in Rochelle’s usual flourish. He approached her, sitting down on the same side of the bed that she had huddled herself on.


She gave him a faint smile.  “You really do have baby blues,” she said, referring to his eyes. Ryan flashed her his boyish smile. “I do,” he replied, lightly moving a strand of her platinum blonde hair behind her ear.


“Mine change colour,” she stated, mentally kicking herself for the failed attempt at small talk. Ryan nodded, telling her he watched them go from blue to vibrant green while he was making love to her. Rochelle ducked her head, shying away from his gaze.


Ryan leaned in, kissing her cheek. “Thank you,” Rochelle whispered, her voice breaking slightly, as Ryan stood up. He smiled, cupping her chin in his hand. “I hope to see you again,” he told her. “If you need me, you know how to find me.” With that he turned around and left the room, leaving only the faint scent of his cologne behind.


Return To Contents