Dangerous to Know by Lily Harlem - Erotica>ContemporaryFor too many years I’ve hidden a sinful, erotic craving in the darkest corner of my soul. Within this deeply buried sliver, shameful fantasies rule and images—seedy, degrading, filthy images—burn through the dark of night and hold my dreams hostage.
Luckily, the center of my whore obsession is keen to play my slutty game. I know nothing about him, other than his taste, touch and smell, but that’s how I want it, because of one thing I’m certain—this man is dangerous to know. But despite the risks, in the very heart of New York, in open view, I’ll tempt him with my wares, show him my skills and prove I’m up for the job.
An Exotika® contemporary erotica story from Ellora’s Cave
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An Excerpt From: DANGEROUS TO KNOW
Copyright © LILYHARLEM, 2013
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
“Are you a whore?” he asked.
Oh, the way he said the word whore was delicious; his widemouth seemed to pull out the “r” at the end as if savoring it, playing with it.
“Do you want me to be?” I asked brazenly.
He shrugged. “Keeps it simple, I suppose.”
I twitched the side of my mouth into a half-smile eventhough I wanted to beam. It seemed I’d just found a man to fulfill my forbiddendesires and make all my bad dreams come true. “Then yes, I’ll be your whore.”
“Just mine?” He pulled on his cigarette, but this time whenhe blew out, the smoke shot from his mouth in a thin stream.
I rubbed my hand over my chest, tweaking my hard nipple. Hisgaze followed my movement then slid over my right shoulder. I heard footsteps.
Someone was coming.
He glanced back at me, as if daring me to stay in my exposedposition. Always one to rise to a challenge, I kept my legs spread. Willed myknees to stay apart and my pussy bared. I was desperate to clamp my thighstogether—as a rule, I was not an exhibitionist and had no desire to flash mycunt to any old Tom, Dick or Harry. But I could and would do this—it was ameans to an end.
In my peripheral vision a woman appeared. She wore a cerisecardigan and walked a pale-brown boxer dog. She didn’tpause as she stepped past us, nor did she look back and notice my bare pussy.Well, why would she? It was broad daylight, this was a park, why would myintimate female flesh be on public display?
He raised his eyebrows and I had a sudden rush ofaccomplishment. I’d surprised him—clearly he’d thought I’d tuck myself fromview. Good, I liked to be a surprise. Being predictable was not in my nature,well, not in my whore-self’s nature anyway.
He placed his newspaper on the bench between us and took alast drag of his cigarette before stubbing it under his black boot. “I’m notreally one for fucking whore’s pussies, even pretty ones, but…”
“I’ll pay you to suck my cock.”
Inside I welled with triumph. The idea of sex as anarrangement, a transaction, was what thrilled me the most. No emotions, nostrings. A customer, money and a murky act. That was what appealed to me.Forget candlelit seduction and emotional intimacy, I wanted sleaze, I wantedfilth, I wanted to be used as a sexual object by a rough bloke who took what hewanted on a very basic level.
“Okay. Where?” I asked.
He glanced left and right, his gaze searching, then noddedstraight ahead. “Down there.”
I looked in the direction he’d indicated. Through the treesand railings, I could just make out a gap in the buildings. “It’ll cost youtwenty.”
He shrugged. “Whatever.”
Finally closing my legs, I stood. My knees felt weak and mystomach clenched. This was something I’d been dreaming of, plotting for solong. Never had I thought I’d find the courage to actually go through with my foolhardyplan. The man was a stranger. He could be a complete psychopath and murder methe minute we were out of view. Stuff like that happened to whores all thetime. I’d seen it on the news, read about it in papers.
It was a risk I was willing to take.
Stepping ahead, I turned to make sure he was following. Hewas. Sauntering in that menacingly purposeful stride of his that I’d becometotally fascinated by. I also realized now that I was on ground level how tallhe was, a whole head above me, and wide too. If he did set his mind tosubjecting me to a gruesome back-alley death there was nothing I would be ableto do about it. He could squash me as if I were an ant, choke me withoutbreaking a sweat.
Tugging at my cheap, tarty skirt, I headed for the locationof my first whore experience. As we reached the entrance, he pressed a handinto the small of my back and urged me into the murky world of New York’s dark,dingy alleys.