Perfect Ten

by Nikki Worrell

 Man candy isn’t on her menu. But maybe one taste won’t hurt…

Joe Starling has been stinking rich, and he’s been poor. But from the moment he figured out what makes women scream, he’s been raking in the cash. Not as a prostitute. Not technically.

Sex isn’t officially part of the Perfect Ten escort service’s package. Yet Joe is almost embarrassed to admit his “package” has gotten quite a workout in the past seven years. Truth be told, the ladies want him, and he can’t say no.

Faith Graham’s first reaction to Joe Starling? No. Make that hell no. She needs an average Joe on her arm for her model-thin sister’s wedding. Who will believe a dazzling hunk like him would date the Graham sister who has a few too many curves?

For the first time, Joe experiences what it’s like for a woman to look at him with loathing rather than lust. And he doesn’t like the feeling. Because there is nothing in this world he wants more than to turn her emphatic no into a heartfelt yes. In fact, a lifetime of yes would work just fine for him

THIS IS AN EROTIC ROMANCE INTENDED FOR ADULTS 18+. Previously published as Perfect Ten by Michelle Craig.

 


Prologue

S. E. X.

Say hello to the best three letters of the English alphabet. As I was coming of age, I had as much sex as I possibly could. As a matter of fact, I lost my virginity at the ripe old age of fifteen, only a week after my father died, and to an eighteen-year-old senior. After that day, I figured I knew just about everything I needed to know about girls. I mean, hey—an eighteen-year-old wanted to play with my cock. I figured I’d have the pick of the litter after word of my prowess and my huge cock got around.

Of course, it didn’t quite happen that way. I think I actually got carpal tunnel from jerking off so much. As it turned out, the eighteen-year-old had only lost a bet. She didn’t want me. She was just the one who lost and had to be a pity fuck for the poor kid whose dad had just died. Whatever the reason, I still fucked her.

Funny thing happened a couple of years later, though. I grew about eight inches and then sat back and watched as my shoulders got wider and my muscles became more defined. Six-pack? Nah, I had an eight. And guess what? Girls dug it. But I still couldn’t seem to get the sex thing quite right. Then it hit me. Here I was, a physically great-looking specimen of man, but I didn’t know shit about what women wanted in bed. And I didn’t really care as long as I got off. However, word spread about my selfish behavior in the sheets, which didn’t work out so well for me.

My sexcapades weren’t nearly as frequent as I thought they’d be through high school, but near the end, I was learning. I learned to listen to the girls I was with. When I stroked them a certain way and they gasped, I stored that little nugget of information away. And then I hit the mother lode. I tasted my first pussy, and, fucking-A, I was hooked. All I wanted in life at that moment was to learn how to conquer that tender little nub that drove girls to grind themselves against my face, calling out my name.

That learning helped me immensely in the next phase of my life.

***

“That’s it. Fuck, yeah. Just like that.” Christ! Will I ever get sick of getting blown? “Softly now, sweetheart. Oh yeah, that’s it. That’s perfect.” I watched her lips slide slowly over my dick. I could feel her tongue lick at my balls when she took me in all the way to the hilt. Was there a man alive who didn’t love that?

“I’m gonna come right down your throat. Is that what you want?” She moaned and curled her fingers into my ass, confirming what I already knew. She was yet another trophy wife who didn’t get the attention she needed from her wealthy husband. “Ahh God!” I grabbed a fistful of her hair and moved her head faster, watching her suck me in over and over. “I’m gonna fill your mouth.” I came, thrusting deep into the back of her throat. She gagged on it, and I came some more. When she spit me out, I took my dick in my hand and continued to pump myself until I had nothing left. I was mostly done at that point, but I still had enough left to shoot a couple of hot drops on her parted cosmetically enhanced lips. Lucky girl.

***

Like I said before, my sex life wasn’t always like this, but it is now. I can pretty much fuck who I want, when I want. Yeah, I’m that good. And no, I’m not humble. If you’re good at something, be proud of it. Own it. Now, before any of you women get up in arms thinking I’m still a selfish piece of shit who only cares about getting himself off, get the whole story. Talk to one of my dates. They’ll tell you what’s what.

I admit that I might hold their head down on my dick a couple of seconds past pleasant. I might ram into them from behind a bit too hard in the heat of the moment now and then, but ask them how their night was. Besides, there’s a fine line between pleasure and pain. I haven’t had a complaint yet, and this is why—I don’t come until she does. If I can’t make her come, and come hard, before I do, then I’m not doing it right. So, yeah, I’m that good.

 

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