Heat Exchange

By: Deana Farrady

"I do read the sexy books, Nyall," she confided. "I've seen X-rated movies. I do know what happens. I also have fantasies. I'll bet I'm even as experienced as your mistresses, as far as knowing stuff goes. I know what a," she lowered her voice dramatically, "pearl necklace is. It's what you did to me once."

He chuckled. "Good for you. But…?"

"Doing and knowing are different. Some of what I've seen in those videos must be real, I guess, but a lot of it has to be fantasy. I mean, pleasuring myself isn't as fun as I've read it is. Why should the sex be as good as everyone says?"

"Now you know it's better," he said smugly. "Especially with me."

She giggled. "Okay, so that's true. Oh." Her eyes widened. "I forgot to say thank you. Thank you, Nyall. This was a true favor." Saying that made her a little sad. There wasn't much more reason to stay, really. Her next words were faltering. "I wonder if now we're mostly done with my devirgination."

His arm tightened around her. "There's more to learn. A lot more. You want to become expert class, don't you?"

"Yes, I would like to learn more."

"Then I'll teach you. I'll teach you everything. You're staying the whole week," he said. "We'll shag until we're blue from exhaustion. So none of this bullshit about being done."

"Thank you again," Janey said, snuggling against him. "You're a real pal." Her eyes drifted shut and she went on sleepily, "I'm glad you have the hots for me because your chemicals made you. I like being with you, Nyall. Still, it can't be easy to spend so much time with me. But don't you worry…I'll make it up to you…I promise…starting tomorrow…I have lots of questions…you can tell me everything you want. And then…and then I'll make sure…"

Janey never got to hear his response, because she never finished her sentence before drifting into a contented sleep curled up against Nyall's deliciously hard body.




Warm female flesh on his face.

Janey's scent in his nostrils.


Nyall made his eyelids do their thing, even while his cock did its thing against Janey's hip. With tremendous willpower—there had to be a fucking award for this—he separated their bodies and reached out a hand to silence the phone. "Yeah, Mary," he managed to croak, bringing it to his ear as he rolled out of bed.

Even as he listened to his assistant's voice, he watched Janey snuggle into his former spot. His phone was set to attacking-swarm-of-bees volume level, but she remained dead to the world, looking sweet and milky and so tasty his mouth watered. One ripe tit was poking out from under her arm, the nipple plump even in relaxation. Those doe-brown eyes were closed and her breathing even and there was a little smile on her face.

He hoped she was dreaming of him.

Something told him she was dreaming of weddings. His wedding to some society chick while she gave him the thumbs-up from the back of the church. She had, after all, fallen asleep in his arms mumbling something ominous about interviewing him.

"Hold on, Mary," he said.

He bent down and kissed Janey's cheek, then her hair, and then the upper swell of her ass. She didn't stir.

He straightened up again and walked to the window. "Okay, give it to me."

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