Nerd's Blind Date by Delilah Devlin (1)

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Just as arranged, I arrived at the hotel lobby at 8:00 PM sharp. I made my way to the concierge’s desk and picked up the envelope left for me. Inside was the card key. No note. I headed for the elevators, trying to still the butterflies fluttering in my belly.

Once the doors closed, I glanced at my reflection in the mirrored walls. Other than two bright spots of color riding my cheeks, there was no sign of my inner case of nerves. The woman staring back was a stranger: frizzy-curly blonde hair tamed into a sleek, just-past-the-shoulder-length bob, features masked with artfully applied makeup, green contacts altering my ordinary, hazel eyes. The dress was another bit of subterfuge. The waist nipped in any softness there, the skirt flared over padded hips. The navy silk leant me an air of mystery and style, in stark contrast to my usual work “uniform” of fuzzy pajama pants and superhero tees.

Tonight was about fantasies—mine—and the packaging was just my armor to make sure I could get through this evening without geeking out. A tall order for someone as painfully shy as I was. Someone who preferred the company of her cat and her online friends.

The chime sounded as the elevator stopped at the seventh floor. I took a deep breath, lifted my chin, and stepped out with confidence. An act, because now the butterflies were flapping franticly to escape.

At the door, I quickly swiped the card, hoping I’d arrived first, so I’d have time to get comfortable in my surroundings—or hide in the bathroom. But when I pressed down on the handle, I heard music playing softly inside the pricey suite. The lighting was muted. A man wearing a tailored suit stood in front of the large window, his back to me, his lean frame outlined against the city skyline. Quickly, I placed the bag I’d brought on the floor just inside the door.

Should I clear my throat to get his attention?

I reconsidered. He might take that as a sign of nervousness. And I had been the one to select this particular scenario. No need to alert him to the fact this role I was set to play lay completely outside my reality.

He saved me from making my first mistake, turning slowly, his dark gaze roaming over my body.

As he looked, I hoped my jaw wasn’t sagging. His partly shadowed profile picture on the Fantasy Dates forum hadn’t done him justice. Tall and athletic, he’d written, but the description didn’t encompass the breadth of his shoulders or the narrowness of his hips. His dark hair was cropped close, his dark brows a tad heavy, but they gave him that brooding look—a Heathcliff vibe that tended to make a woman’s knees weak and her heart race. Mine sure did. Add lips that were neither too large or small, but with a requisite firmness that challenged a girl to think of a way to pull that mouth into a smile… He was utterly perfect.

Too perfect for me. I tightened against the urge to whirl and flee.

“You’re prompt,” he said.

“I consider it bad manners to arrive too early or too late,” I murmured, wondering who the hell was speaking because my voice was never that sultry.

“Well, we’re here,” he said, waving a hand at the suite.

How was I to reply to that? Duh. Yeah. But then I realized what he wasn’t asking. What next? This was my fantasy.

And what had I specified? A good-looking male escort, willing to fulfill a new client’s desires. I’d been vague, and after my fantasy request had sat on the forum without a single query of interest, the administrator had asked if I could specify what those desires were. My mind had gone blank. For two days I’d kept the website tab closed because I hadn’t decided what exactly I wanted to have happen. But then, he’d replied. Cool Operator was okay with a vague scenario. He preferred room to “operate”.

He’d saved me from having to put to words what I wanted. Now, I wasn’t so sure that had been the wisest course of action. Our dark net forum was a place for the seediest, most secretive assignations. No Tinder or Match.com hook-ups there. I’d never had the nerve to put myself “out there” in a public way for my friends or family to discover my desperation. Although I had questioned my sanity over going this particularly risky route.

I took courage from my last reply to his arrangements for the evening. My friends will know where I am, I’d lied. Should things go south, I’ll be sure to leave plenty of DNA to point your way.

He’d replied a moment later with, Oh, we’ll leave plenty of DNA, sweetheart.

I’d spent a sleepless night contemplating that statement. Imagining the DNA we’d leave on the sheets, the rug, the bathroom…

Okay, so my fantasies had been strictly erotic. Not CSI-worthy.

And here we were, and he was still looking at me with those darkly hooded eyes, waiting for me to indicate how I wanted to proceed.

How would Sonoma Siren reply? I stiffened my spine. Keep to the script. “Your agency said you were willing to accommodate special requests,” I said, giving him a slight smile—hoping it was an appropriately seductive curve of my lips.

“My agency…was correct.”

Still, he didn’t move a muscle. Didn’t approach. The moment dragged out until I knew he wasn’t going to make this easy for me. His silence was a challenge.

Answering challenges wasn’t something natural for me. Work came my way without much effort. And there was never any drama in my private life. I rarely ventured out of my routine. And yet, his brooding gaze sparked something inside me. Here, this night, I could be bold.

I strode toward him, letting my hips sway, aware the fabric molded to first one side then the other, giving him a clearer idea of my true shape. His eyelids dipped as he followed my movements. His jaw tightened just a fraction.

My un-model-like physique didn’t appear to put him off. My confidence grew. When I stood a foot away, I turned slowly. “Would you help me with the zip?”

He made a sound, like a soft cough, but his hands quickly lifted away my hair. The zipper lowered, and I took my first deep breath of the evening. He inhaled deeply, and his fingers traced a path down the center of my naked back.

I looked over my shoulder, trying to gauge his reaction while at the same time flirting with my eyelashes.

He pushed the silk off my shoulders and bent to place a kiss in the curve of my neck. “I take it, we won’t be heading to the dining room?”

“If you’re hungry, we can order in…” He bit my neck, causing me to jerk.

“Maybe later.”

I took an unsteady breath and stepped away. His hands left my shoulders. Turning slowly, I let him see the excitement building inside me. My cheeks were warm, my breaths jagged. I was going to do this. Have an assignation with a stranger. An “escort” I’d never met. And I was in charge. I lifted my chin toward his chest. “I’d like to see what I’m paying for.” Well, we’d both paid for this, having agreed to split the hotel bill down the middle, but we still had parts to play.

His crooked smile was more bemused than salacious, a relief to me, because if he’d leered, I might have had second thoughts. Instead, adorably, a flush spread across his cheeks as he removed his jacket, his tie, and then slowly unbuttoned his white dress shirt. The moment the sides opened to expose his chest, my breasts tightened. The expanse he revealed was nicely muscled, lightly cloaked with dark brown hair. My gaze followed the narrow trail that disappeared beneath his belt.

He didn’t make me wait. The belt and zipper were both opened. His pants quickly slid down leanly muscled thighs. A runner, I thought as I tried not to gawk at the erection pressing against his gray briefs.

When he stood in just his underwear, his curled hands resting on his hips, I couldn’t help but think of Bruce Wayne—urbane, handsome, cute in a suit—hiding his powerful allure. Not letting himself be seen for who he truly was until he masked up. Only Cool Operator’s attractions grew when he removed the safe suit. Did that make him Clark Kent? Imagining him nude but wearing a cape made me smile.

“Not fair,” he said wagging a finger.

I took a ragged breath. “That should be my line,” I said, waving a hand up and down his body. “I’m not nearly as interesting.”

One brow arched. “I’m an escort. I’ve pleasured older women with neglectful husbands and homely girls who can’t find their own dates. I’m feeling pretty lucky tonight.”

A blush spread over my cheeks. His reassurance did the trick. I stepped out of my heels then pulled at the front of my dress and slipped my arms out. Nude from the waist up, I gauged his reaction by the tightening of his abdomen and the stirring of the hard ridge poking at his underpants. Quickly, before I lost my nerve, I pushed the dress past my hips to let it fall with a soft whoosh to the floor.

I lowered my eyes and stood still. Suddenly shy. He stepped forward and reached out, his thumbs slipping under the elastic at my hips. He pulled. It gave. And then I was entirely naked, my thighs pressing together because a pulse was throbbing, there between my legs.

The script. I was the one in charge. Although they shook, I placed my hands on his hips, and glided them downward. His briefs snagged on his erection.

He made a soft grunting sound. I hoped it wasn’t laughter. But the thought firmed my resolve. I plucked the waistband outward, freeing his cock, and then knelt to drag his undergarment to his feet.

Of course, that left his cock at eye-level—if I would only turn my head to look.

Slowly, his hand entered my view, and he wrapped his fingers around his shaft and slowly tilted it toward me.

Not the script. But what the hell? I was curious now whether it was as firm as it appeared. Whether I’d like his scent. Whether he’d taste every bit as yummy as he looked. I turned and tilted my head and let him press the tip against my mouth. I opened and invited him to slide his thick rod atop my tongue.

Again, his eyelids dipped. His features sharpened as his jaw tightened.

I slid my tongue over the crown and swirled. Clean, maybe a hint of soap—his spicy musk was enticing. I latched my lips around him and sucked.

His head fell backward, and he sighed.

Encouraged I was getting this right, I pushed away his fingers and wrapped my own around his length. I could be Sonoma Siren to his Clark Kent. A new superhero. A villainess ready to drain away his power—without the need for Kryptonite.

I sucked harder. My fingers tightened and began to stroke his hard shaft, each glide rising to meet my forward moving lips.

His hips surged, pushing his cock deeper into my mouth. I gurgled a bit but didn’t resist, allowing him to slide along my tongue and butt against the back of my throat. Breathing through my nose, I relaxed and let him slide deeper, smiling around him when he groaned.

My own body warmed, melting from the inside. Moisture pooled between my legs. My nipples ached.

But just when I was certain I had him there at the precipice, he gently pushed me away and stepped backward. He reached downward for his slacks, pulled out his wallet, and slid a condom from a hidden pocket. “Before we go any further,” he said, his voice sounding strained.

I stood, watching as he sat on the edge of the bed and rolled the latex down his length, ready to push him to his back and climb over his lap, but he scooted backward on the bed and patted the mattress beside him.

I wiped my hand across my mouth and lowered my eyebrows. I didn’t want to slow down. Didn’t want to follow his direction. But I was also growing desperate to feel him inside me. Perhaps I could tempt him to give me what I needed if I were closer.

I crawled onto the mattress, firming my tummy but allowing my breasts to sway. My best assets. Full, creamy-skinned, cherry-topped. And indeed, his gaze locked on my nipples as I moved to his side and rested, propped on one elbow above him while he lay with his hands beneath his head.

“I’m curious,” he said, his tone deep and a bit graveled.

I shook my head. “No personal details,” I reminded him.

His gaze narrowed. Then he reached for a breast, plumped it in his hand, and rasped his finger across the tip. “Why this scenario?”

I drew a deep breath—partly because that lazy thumb was making me shiver, and partly because I wanted to share my answer. Still, saying it out loud… “I didn’t want a date.” I gave an exaggerated shiver. “Dates are like interviews. I didn’t want to sit across from anyone at a restaurant and make small talk, and at the end of the night, get a peck on the cheek and a promise to call. This is more direct.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You wanted a hookup. I get that. But why use the forum?”

I shrugged, trying not to blush. “I have certain desires I want fulfilled. And I wanted a partner willing to do whatever I requested.”

He grunted softly. “Do these desires have anything to do with that duffel bag you dropped?”

I nodded. “You agreed to do whatever I want.”

“And what you want requires I use whatever’s inside that bag?” At my nod, his mouth twitched. “Is there a list of acts you want me to perform?”

Good Lord. A list of acts? Why hadn’t I thought about that? “No list—you said you wanted room to operate. But once you open the bag,” I said, suddenly breathless, “I’ll expect you to use what’s inside.”

His head tilted, and his gaze narrowed again as he studied my face. For a long moment, he stared.

My heart hammered in my chest as I waited. What did he see? Did my eyes sparkle with anticipation? Did my blush betray the fact I wasn’t nearly as bold as I portrayed?

Then he rolled to the side and left the bed, striding directly toward the bag. He set it on the banquet table against the wall and unzipped it then glanced back at me with a look I couldn’t read.

I closed my eyes, because I didn’t want his laughter or judgment.

“Stay that way,” he said softly. “Keep your eyes closed.”

Something thudded, and I realized he must have emptied the bag. God, I hoped he understood how to use the things I’d brought. I began to regret not being at least a little more specific. “Someone with BDSM experience required!” would have made this moment less anxiety-filled.

His feet padded closer. The mattress dipped. “Open,” he said, his mouth beside my ear.

I gave a little moan as I opened my mouth to accept the ball gag. Now, I wouldn’t have to worry about making conversation with this man. I mouthed it as he closed the straps behind my head.

A finger lifted my chin. I peeked upward to find him staring down at the black ball trapped between my lips. “Very nice. Now, be a good girl and roll over. I want you on your knees.”

Oh my, that voice! Firm, but not harsh. Naturally dominant. Or at least as I’d imagined a Dominant might sound. I rolled then hesitated. If I came to my knees, the view I’d present couldn’t be more unflattering.

Something rapped the bed beside me. The paddle. I shot to my knees, my embarrassment forgotten, my body trembling with excitement. The leather bands I’d purchased were buckled around my thighs. A hand pushed between my shoulders until I lowered my chest to the bed. Then he took my wrists, one at a time, and fastened them against my outer thighs.

When he’d finished, I felt a moment’s panic. I’d allowed a stranger to restrain me. He could do whatever he pleased. And if his particular fantasy was something darker than what I’d envisioned, I’d be helpless to stop him.

The bed behind me dipped. Hands stroked over my bottom and the backs of my thighs. “This is what you wanted?”

I lifted my head, hesitated, then gave a nod.

I felt his breath against my ass a moment before his tongue slid between my cheeks, following the divide from just above my pussy, moving slowly upward in wet laps until he reached my anus.

I held my breath and cringed a little bit, quivering, but then his tongue touched me there. I jerked, surprised at how sensitive I was.

“Easy,” he whispered. “I almost regret not letting you give me that blow job. I thought we might talk first. But you seemed…agitated. After seeing inside your little treasure bag, I get it. We’ll play. Then we’ll talk.”

His words removed my fear. He wanted to play. Then talk. He could hardly talk to me if he planned to do me bodily harm.

His hands framed my hips, and I felt his cock nudge my sex. He rubbed himself against me, his cock and balls rolling against my pussy and drawing moisture down my channel. Then he moved back.

From the corner of my eye, I watched as he picked up the paddle. One side was padded and covered in red, velvety fur. The other was bare wood. Which would he use?

Velvet stroked my skin—roaming over my buttocks and lower back. I began to relax, until it left my skin.

The first thud was soft, muted—and directed against the fleshiest part of one of my cheeks. I tensed before another thud landed on the opposite side. Yes! I rubbed my chest against the cotton duvet, exciting my nipples, and concentrated on the heat his smacks produced. I’d read about the pleasure that could be derived from a paddling—in online ezines, in erotic books. Now, I understood it. Warmth suffused my ass then washed in a wave upward to fill my chest and heat my face. Blood surged southward to engorge my pussy.

And still, he paddled me, not missing a single spot on my ass or thighs—until I couldn’t help but try to move my hips in shallow rocking motions, because I was becoming aroused.

The paddle stilled. Fingers parted my folds. One pressed inside my vagina and swirled. “Not nearly wet enough,” he said with a tsk.

He gave me no more warning than that. The next smack was sharp and loud as bare wood connected with my skin.

I made a bleating sound and drool seeped around the ball. He spanked me again and again, and I wriggled, trying to anticipate where the paddle would land to make sure it hit the well-padded part of my derriere, but he was quicker, sneakier, following no pattern.

In the end, I surrendered, counting the blows until…it happened. He smacked my pussy, and I felt a feathering convulsion tighten inside my walls—I was coming!

Another wet swat, and I turned my head to rock my forehead on the coverlet as I groaned loudly. At last, he tossed away the paddle. Lips surrounded my clit. Fingers plunged into my pussy. My orgasm was no longer gently feathering—it was exploding!

I jerked my hips and made crude grunting sounds—all things I was aware of doing but couldn’t help. My body wasn’t my own. It was his. When he drew hard on my clit, I felt it expand like a mini-penis, growing excruciatingly sensitive as he mouthed and tugged on it, until I sobbed around the ball gag. Too much. Too much.

At last, he released my clit. Withdrew his fingers. The straps loosened—first those restraining my hands and legs, and then the ball gag loosened.

I spat it out and collapsed on my belly.

He stretched beside me, leaning on an elbow. “No hiding,” he said, pulling my hair.

Shyness overwhelmed me—the old familiar feeling that managed to cripple my ability to relate to men. Ridiculous given everything I’d invited him to do. I took a deep breath and slowly turned.

His features were no longer brooding. His expression was…softer. “I have a confession to make.”

I lay on my back, my breath a little too shallow. What horrible thing would he tell me?

He must have noted I was tensing, because he cupped my breast again, toggling the tip, until the intimate touch worked its magic, and I relaxed.

“You have very pretty breasts,” he said, a smile curving the corners of his mouth. “I could tell they’d be full, even when you were wearing that baggy Thundercats tee.”

I blinked, not understanding. Yes, I had a Lion-O tee—the “Lord of the Thundercats” being my favorite character—but the shirt was so old I never wore it for my infrequent jaunts to the post office or the store.

My heart pounded slow and heavy as I stared. He waited for me to figure it out, and the moment I did, I jackknifed to sit and pulled a pillow to shield my body. “Michael from IT Guru?”

He had the good grace to blush.

The blush I recognized. He’d worn it as he’d cleared my browsing history.

“Your glasses?”

“Contacts. Which I’m assuming you’re wearing, too. And I cut my hair,” he said, raking a hand through much shorter strands. “Look, I’m sorry if you’re disappointed, or if I’ve embarrassed you.”

I sighed, not knowing how to respond. Once he’d somehow figured out I was Sonoma Siren, he’d gone to great lengths to make this happen. I really ought to be flattered, but how could I say it without giving him a complete pass for tricking me? The fact I was here had everything to do with him. The way Michael from IT Guru had smiled and teased me as he’d fixed my cratered hard drive had awoken me to the fact I was lonely.

“What a coincidence—us being on the same forum. How did you figure out it was me?”

He grimaced. “I accessed your history when you left your desk to get a cup of coffee. That’s how I discovered you’d been to that forum—and what name you were using.”

I gaped—icy cold, at first, then searingly hot as fury rushed through me. “You—you—”

He held up his hand. “I prefer to think I was protecting you, Maggie. Anyone could have answered your query.”

“You answered.” My words came out in a harsh whisper. He’d played along. Pretending he didn’t know who I was. Didn’t know every damn thing about me. Hell, he’d seen the porn site that had crashed my computer. “Fuck.”

He took a deep breath. “IT guru is a side gig. My real job is working for a cyber-crimes company. I investigate sites like that forum when bad things happen.”

“And this is how you conduct an investigation?” I said, my voice rising.

“Hell, no.” He sat up and raked a hand through his hair. “If my supervisor ever got wind of the fact I’d visited a site like that on my free time, I’d be terminated. But I had to be there.”

I snorted. “Because you were looking out for me?”

The deep breath he released lowered his shoulders. “Yes.”

My eyes began to burn. I was fucking tearing up when this asshole stalker was telling me how he’d followed me to the site—to take care of me? Was I really that pathetic?

I guessed from the lengths I’d gone for a single night of adventure that’s exactly what he thought. “So, this was all out of concern for me?”

“To keep you out of a predator’s hands…”

I looked away, doing my best to still the tremors running up and down my body. “Well, I guess you did your job,” I said, bitterness sharpening my words. “Do you want me to post my review on your work site or at IT Guru?”

“Maggie…stop.”

A shudder racked me. This time, it had nothing to do with the fact I was humiliated. My body was just giving an involuntary response to the firmness of his tone. Well, damn. My perfect hookup wasn’t really that into me, he’d just gone the extra mile to make sure a lonely woman didn’t end up on the evening news.

“Maggie, I’m not here, in this bed, just because I wanted to keep you safe.” He moved slowly, reaching out to push my hair behind my ear, then crawled closer to cup my shoulders. “I liked the woman I met when I fixed her computer. I thought she was pretty, funny. I liked the way she blushed when I asked how a nice girl like her had a web history that looked like that.” His jaw firmed. “I was intrigued, and I knew right then I wanted you.”

Oh, he had a really good line, but fool me once… “You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to feel any more foolish than I already do.” I groaned and lifted the pillow to hide my face. “And you saw my new toys.”

“I did more than see them, sweetheart.”

That sexy drawl set my belly fluttering again. Slowly, I lowered the pillow, trying not to look at him, because his dick was still erect, and I was really, really sorry it wasn’t mine to play with. “I guess we should both get dressed.”

He shrugged. “Seems a waste. We have this suite for the night…” He gave me a tentative smile. “How about I order dinner—on me. And we can make a proper date of this.”

I sniffed and lifted my chin, wondering if this was a pity thing and whether I still had enough pride to turn him down. “You want a date?”

“I want more than a date,” he said softly. “But if that’s all you’ll share with me tonight, I’ll be satisfied.” He reached for my hand. “Just don’t go running from the room. I didn’t mean to make you feel anything other than…desirable. Because you are. Even when you’re wearing a Lion-O T-shirt and fuzzy zombie pants.”

I swung the pillow.

He laughed and pretended to cower as I beat him with down-filled softness. The sound was joyful and full of relief.

A smile twitched then spread across my lips. I tossed the pillow to the floor and pushed him to his back. Then I straddled his hips and grabbed his wrists, “forcing” them upward. That he let me while he wore a sexy half-smile did a lot a to restore my dignity.

His cock jerked against my open thighs. I halted, frozen for just a second, but his heavy-lidded gaze was all the invitation I needed. He was into this. Into me. His erection was as clear a barometer of his interest as a woman could ever need.

“You have me now,” he murmured. “I’m completely at your mercy.”

“I’m not any good at this,” I said, needing to state the warning label on the package he was about to accept. “I don’t get out much. Don’t talk to real people very often. That’s why I did this. Just thought you should know.”

He arched a brow. “Think awkward silences are going to scare me away?”

“No, but I’ve been…busy with work. And I have all these…things I’ve been thinking about…”

“Fantasizing about?” He traced my bottom lip with his forefinger. “Would you think me a total perv if I said that turns me on? A woman hoarding all those dreams of pleasure… I can’t wait to find out what I’ll be doing next. Or who I’ll be.”

I bent closer and let my breasts graze his chest, which set my nipples tingling. “I have this one fantasy… I’m in a hotel room with windows facing another tower of the hotel. The curtains are open and every light in the room is on.”

He glanced toward the curtains. “I’m listening…and I’m game. Do you want to slide them open?”

My response wasn’t something I could hide. Fluid leaked to wet his thick shaft. I moved off him, left the bed, and padded to the curtains. I opened them then stood in front of the glass, naked for the world to see—or at least anyone glancing out their window from the opposite tower.

I looked at my reflection in the glass and shook back my hair. Then I turned and sauntered back to the bed, grinning as he chuckled.

Again, I straddled him and bent close, my hair falling to envelop both our faces.

His smile disappeared, and he reached to cup the back of my neck and bring me closer. When our lips were an inch apart, he said, “I’ve been dying to kiss you, but the agency has strict rules against kissing.”

I waggled my eyebrows, pleased he was still playing. “You can eat a girl out, but you can’t kiss her?”

His dark eyes sparkled. “Kissing’s more intimate.”

“Afraid the clients will fall for you? Is your kiss your superpower?”

“Baby, Lion-O’s got nothing on me.”

The kiss began with smiling lips but quickly changed to something hotter…and sweeter. When I drew away, I was shaking with need.

I rose on my knees and waited as he gripped his shaft and set the tip against my entrance.

His gaze was hot. His smile crooked. “Guess we’re way past the point where we should make proper introductions.”

“You’re Michael. I’m Maggie,” I said, sliding slowly down his cock. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Computer Man. I have this problem with my hard drive…”