Bloodlines by Dinah McCall

wondering if he could get still get it up for a woman. It had been a long time since he’d had the chance to find out.
    â€œGood,” he said shortly as he gave her a hard look.
    She would not have been his first pick out of acrowd, but she wasn’t all that bad. Like him, she was just a little past her prime. He barely had time to notice the dark roots against her scalp, or the brushy fall of dishwater-blond hair, before she tossed her handbag aside and put her hands on her hips.
    â€œSo, hon…you want a blow job or what?”
    Her voice was part whine, with an indistinct southern drawl that could have put her from Alabama, but more likely Arkansas.
    He reached for her breasts, feeling the firm but yielding texture of flesh, then squeezed. As he did, he felt the first stirrings of an erection and knew a great sense of relief.
    â€œWhat else will twenty-five get me?” he asked.
    â€œA hand job. Another twenty will get you an ass or pussy fuck, but if you want anything kinky, it’ll cost you a flat hundred…and I don’t kiss no one on the lips.”
    Foster thought about how long it had been since he’d even had the opportunity to sink his prick into the tight heat of a woman, but the way he was feeling, he wouldn’t last long enough to make it worth the price.
    â€œBlow job,” he said shortly, then dropped both towels, sat down on the side of the bed and spread his legs.
    â€œMoney first,” she said as she held out her hand.
    He reached behind him, took his money from the pocket of his pants and counted out two tens and a five into her palm.
    Water droplets still clung to his body as she folded the money and put it in her fanny pack. After that, she stepped between his outspread legs, then went to her knees.
    Foster watched long enough to see her red-painted lips sliding up and down his erection before the dampness of her tongue and the intensity with which she was sucking shifted his focus. Warmth became heat and pressure became pain, but a very pleasurable pain. The woman knew her business. She brought him to a climax so hard and so fast that his semen shot into her hands before he could elicit a groan. Moments later, he fell backward onto the bed, still rocked by the intensity of the spasms.
    â€œOh damn, that was too fast,” he groaned.
    The woman got to her feet and headed for the bathroom, carrying her fanny pack as she went. He heard her brushing her teeth but was too spent to move, and he was still on the bed when she came out, drying her hands.
    â€œHow long was you in, hon?”
    He answered before he thought. “Twenty-five.”
    She grinned. “It’s no wonder you got off so fast. Sometimes the men like you come just lookin’ at me.” Then her eyes narrowed as she stepped back into her shoes. “If you’re interested in an encore, you just let Marvin know.”
    â€œWho’s Marvin?” he asked.
    â€œThe desk clerk who called me,” she said.
    â€œOh yeah…him,” Foster said.
    She hesitated a moment, then grabbed the doorknob.
    â€œSo, you take care, hon, and thanks for the business.”
    Oblivious to his nudity, Foster followed her to thedoor, let her out, then once again locked himself inside.
    With the edge gone from his hard-on, he moved back to the bed, picked up the remote from the top of the television, then hit the power button. His belly growled as he thought about ordering up a pizza, but he let the thought ride as he played with the remote. He knew what the phrase “channel surfing” meant, although the room he’d had in California had been minus a TV and he hadn’t had the pleasure. He kept his finger on the up arrow and ran through the brief choices the hotel menu offered, then had started through it again when, to his shock, he saw his own face on the screen and heard a newscaster saying his name.
    â€œâ€¦looking for Foster Lawrence, who was recently released