The Thrill Seekers
Chapter 1: The First Tryst
The sun crept toward the horizon, casting a golden sheen over the twin glass towers of the Westside Hotel. Inside Suite 1001 on the tenth and top floor, Kitty Summers stood in front of the tall floor to ceiling windows, her bare feet sinking into the plush white carpet contemplating the night ahead.
The suite's floor-to-ceiling windows providing an unobstructed view of the San Gabriel Mountains to the east, the Hollywood Hills to the north and the Pacific Palisades to the west as they dipped into the Pacific.
Kitty sipped her champagne, the bubbles tickling her throat as she gazed out at the sprawling city below. The Pacific Ocean shimmered in the late afternoon sun, a reminder of the world's vastness -- a world she often felt trapped within, despite her wealth and privilege.
She was a pampered vision of perfection, her honey-toned skin glowing under the soft ambient lighting. Her long, wavy flaxen blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her dazzling blue eyes and flawless face. She wore a flimsy silk robe, the fabric clinging to her curves like a second skin, hinting at the luscious body beneath.
Kitty's curvaceous figure was what everyone noticed about her first, her lush breasts, her narrow waist and her pert, pear shaped ass, resting atop her long shapely legs. Her sculped 34-23-34 figure was a testament to her frequent visits to the gym and to her personal trainer.
Ironically though, her mind was anything but disciplined. It was restless, insatiable, always craving something more, always looking for a new thrill.
She set her champagne flute down on the marble countertop and sighed, her gaze drifting to the king-sized bed with its silk linens. How many escorts had she brought here, only for them to leave her unsatisfied? Too many to count.
Her husband, a wealthy entrepreneur, was too preoccupied with his business empire to tend to her insatiable needs. And the men she hired? They were all the same--polished, predictable, and utterly incapable of igniting the fiery passion she craved.
Her thoughts drifted to the conversation she'd had with her step-sister and lover, Missy, just days before. They'd been lounging by the pool at Missy's mansion, sipping champagne and complaining about their lackluster love lives.
Missy had leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and whispered about a male escort who had left her breathless recently. The two women were mirror images of one another in every way--including their sexual appetites. Anyone looking at them would take them to be identical twins. But they were merely doppelgangers, an irony of fate.
"Kitty, you have to do Blake Powers," she'd said, her voice husky as she remembered the wild sex and her many orgasms. "He's not like the others. He's--different--And his cock? Oh, darling, it's magnificent. It's the tenth wonder of the world--ten inches of pure perfection."
Kitty's interest had been piqued. She'd demanded more details, her mind already spinning with possibilities. Missy had described Blake's domineering style, his raw animal magnetism, and the way he'd left her a quivering mess in the center of her bed as her husband watched with hungry eyes from the corner of the bedroom.
"He's not just an escort," Missy had said. "He's an experience."
Kitty had wasted no time. She'd booked Suite 1001 at the Westside Hotel, her favorite love nest to pursue her private passions, and arranged a "dry run" with Missy's male escort. She needed to see if he could live up to her step-sister's hype, if he could push her to the heights of ecstasy she desperately sought. And if he couldn't? Well, she'd discard him like the others.
Now, as she waited for Blake to arrive, Kitty paced back and forth, her robe billowing away from her body with each step as the ocean breeze swept in through the open slider. She checked her reflection in the full-length mirror, smoothing her hair and adjusting her robe. She wanted to appear effortless, in control,
but the truth was, she was nervous as a whore in church. Blake Powers was no ordinary escort. He apparently was a legend, a man whispered about in Kitty's rich, privileged and exclusive circles. And Kitty intended to take him for a test run.
The doorbell chimed, breaking the silence. Kitty took a deep breath, her heart racing. She glanced at herself one last time, then padded to the door with the confidence of a woman who knew what she wanted--and usually got it. She opened the door slowly, her eyes meeting Blake's for the first time.
He was even more striking in person than she'd imagined. At six foot three, Blake Powers was a specimen of raw masculinity, a real hunk. His tan skin glistened as a shaft of light from the tall windows across the room hit him.
His slicked-back brown hair perfectly combed. His chest was hairless beneath his unbuttoned shirt, his muscles rippling beneath his tailored suit. But it was his eyes--deep brown and piercing that held her captured her attention. They were the eyes of a predator, and Kitty felt a shiver run down her spine.
"Ms. Summers," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I've heard so much about you."
"And I about you," Kitty smirked, stepping aside to let him in.
Blake closed the door behind him, his gaze sweeping over her from head to toe.
"Only the best," he replied, his tone laced with arrogance. "Though I prefer to form my own opinions."
Kitty led him into the sitting room, her robe slipping slightly off her shoulder as she moved. She wasn't sure if it was an accident or spurred by her subconscious exhibitionism, but Blake's eyes flickered to her exposed skin, his lips curling into a faint smile.
"Can I get you a drink?" she asked, gesturing to the minibar.
"No need," Blake said, his attention already elsewhere. "I'm here for you, Kitty. Let's not waste time--on drinks or small talk."
His directness caught her off guard, but she liked it. Kitty was used to men fawning over her, catering to her every whim. Blake's assertiveness was refreshing, a challenge she was eager to accept.
"Very well," she said, her voice dripping with faux innocence. "Shall we?"
She turned and walked toward the bedroom, her hips swaying deliberately. Blake followed, his eyes fixed on her like a predator stalking its prey. The air between them was electric, crackling with tension. They could both feel each other's growing lust.
The bedroom was bathed in soft light, the silk linens on the bed inviting. Kitty stopped by the edge of the mattress, her robe pooling at her feet. She stood before him in all her glory, her lush round breasts rising and falling with her breath, her nipples protruding from her breasts, hard as diamonds, and her shaved pussy and swollen labia lips inviting his full attention.
Blake marveled at her lightly tanned skin and the freckles that covered her entire body. Kitty's C-Cup breasts were a contrast to her small light pink areolas and rigid pencil width nipples. At five and a half feet tall, Kitty's 34-23-34 figure made her look even more curvaceous.
Kitty's long wavy flaxen blonde hair allowed her to play peekaboo with her lush breasts as they and her hair swayed alluringly back and forth. Her clean shaved pussy and her protruding mons were a reminder that her body was built for sex--and lots of it!
Blake's gaze continued to linger on her body, his expression unreadable.
"You're even more beautiful than I imagined," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Kitty smirked, her confidence returning.
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Powers--but I'm not here to listen to your sweet nothings," declared Kitty before taunting him. "I'm here to get fucked by the best. Are you the best, Mr. Powers?"
She stepped closer, her hand reaching out to trace the lapel of his suit.
"Prove to me that you're worth my time." Challenged Kitty. "Prove to me that you're the man who can finally satisfy me."
Blake's eyes darkened, his composure slipping just a fraction.
"Oh, I'll satisfy you, you arrogant little whore," he growled, his voice rough. "But you need to understand one thing. I'm not here to cater to your whims. I'm here to dominate you. To push you to your limits and beyond. That's the game. Can you handle that?"
Kitty's breath hitched, her body tingling with anticipation. No man had ever dared call her a whore before. It made her juices flow. This was exactly what she'd been looking for--a man who wouldn't bow to her, who would challenge her, own her.
"I can handle anything you throw at me," she said, her voice steady despite the storm suddenly raging inside her now.
"We'll see about that," replied Blake, his lips curved into a predatory smile.
He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, intimidating. Kitty felt his heat, smelled the faint scent of his cologne--something woody and masculine. He reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek, then trailing down her neck, over her collarbone, and finally cupping her breast. His touch was firm, possessive, and Kitty gasped, her head falling back in surrender.
"Such perfection," he murmured, his thumb grazing her nipple. It pebbled instantly, and Kitty moaned, her body arching into his touch.
"Please," she whispered, her voice desperate. "I need you--NOW!"
Blake laughed quietly, the sound low and mocking. "Need me? Or need my cock? There's a difference, you know."
She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. "Both," her eyes defiant, her cheeks flushing. "I need whatever you have to give me."
His smile widened, and for a moment, Kitty thought she saw a glimmer of something softer in his eyes. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the same predatory glare.
"On your knees, whore," he commanded, his voice brooking no argument.
