A few hours later, I found myself sitting on the edge of my bed, surrounded by the entire contents of my closet, freaking out.
I had very little red, surprisingly, and I wasn’t sure how my handsome client was going to take it when I showed up disobeying his wishes. He seemed like the type that expected everyone to submit to his whims, especially the people he paid.
My phone vibrated from beside me and I picked it up, seeing it was Vince calling.
“Hello,” I answered.
“What’s taking you so long? The car is sitting outside.”
I got up and peeked out the window, and sure enough, a sleek black town car was parked at the curb, Collins standing beside it.
“Shit,” I huffed. “I’m not ready yet. Give me ten, and I’ll be right down.”
I ended the call and grabbed a silk blouse from my bed, shaking the wrinkles out and slipping it on.
It was sheer and red, and I hoped the lacy red bra I wore underneath would appease Flynn. I
matched it with a slim skirt and in an effort to make him happy, I slid on a pair of red satin pumps.
I found myself wanting to impress him, and that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He was a client, not my boyfriend. I resented him for it, and irrationally, I wanted to hate him. At the end of the day,
I’d always be what I was, and he’d always be him. We were two different people from very different walks of life. It was ignorant to think otherwise.
I grabbed my purse and flew down the stairs to meet Vince outside. I wanted to get the date over with so I could come home and sulk. Alone.
I opened the door, and was surprised to see Flynn standing on my steps instead of Vince. He looked peeved, and that just set my back tight and defensive.
“It’s past five.”
I pressed my lips together and bit my tongue. I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but that was the last thing I needed to do. He’d paid to fuck me, or not fuck me if things went the same direction as the last time we met. So, instead, I took a deep breath, relaxed my hips, and gave him Jayne’s winning smile.
“Beauty takes effort, Mr. Maguire. I wanted to look special. Just for you.”
His eyes danced. He gave me a quick glance, up and down, and then cocked his lips into a small smile.
“You do look beautiful, as always, Miss King.”
He held his arm out for me, and I tucked my hand into his elbow, tightening my grip as he turned to walk down the steps. I could feel the muscles underneath his coat, and the warmth from his body sent shivers up and down my spine.
I looked side to side, hoping to spot Vince. I wanted to make sure our plan was still in place without Flynn catching on.
“Your friend is waiting in his vehicle across the street.”
I laughed nervously. “He’s protective. It’s just a precaution.”
He hummed but didn’t comment. Collins opened the door for us and stepped aside while Flynn helped me inside. Sliding across the leather seats, I noticed right away that Flynn’s scent permeated the space. Delicious and spicy.
He moved in next to me and immediately threw his arm over the back of the leather seat, letting it settle on my shoulder. I moved in closer, enjoying the way it felt to be tucked under his arm.
I liked the way he took charge. It wasn’t so much arrogance as it was confidence. There was something very attractive about a man that knew what he wanted. It was even better when he took it.
Once the car began to move, Flynn turned sideways, facing me. I smiled at him, batted my lashes a bit, and adjusted myself so I could see him better. He was so devastatingly handsome. The line of his jaw was cut so sharp, and the smooth skin of his lips was so inviting.
I’d had my share of handsome men, but there was something so raw about his beauty, something wild. It danced in his eyes and played in his smile. There was darkness underneath, but I could definitely see some tenderness in him.
He was a player, same as me. His game was different, but not by much. He was well known for the high-stakes card games he played, a proud member of the Millionaire’s club. He may have been born into money, but he probably never had to touch it. A night at a table would set him ahead for years.
That was sexy to me. He was smart, a challenge. Pretty boys with brains were hard to come by, and it was refreshing to have someone that I could actually have a conversation with.
“Where are you taking me tonight, handsome?”
I ran my finger over his trouser-covered thigh, watching my fingernail leave a trail of red against the charcoal of the fabric.
I looked up, confused. “Well, it feels like we’re moving, so we have to be on our way somewhere.”
His eyes darted between my eyes and my mouth, and for a brief moment I thought he might kiss me.
It thrilled me. I wanted him to touch me in the worst way.
“Take off your shoes.”
I blinked several times, puzzled by his sudden request. His eyes told me there was no questioning his words, so I shifted around so I could do as he asked. As I bent over, I made sure he got a good glimpse of my tits in my low-cut dress, and slowly slid the shoes off my feet and dropped them to the floor.
“I thought you’d appreciated the shoes. They’re red.”
“I do,” he said, smiling. “But I want to touch your feet. Put them in my lap so I can rub them.”
I moved quickly, happy to finally have his hands on me. There were far needier places that I needed him, but having him touch me at all was good enough.
His hands were strong, smooth, and his fingers gave the perfect amount of pressure on the arches of my feet. It felt amazing, and I couldn’t remember the last time a man had touched my feet, if ever.
His eyes were bright as he stared at me. He never missed a beat, rubbing and probing my feet like a professional. I was mesmerized, once again, lost in his eyes like a tamed lion.
“So, tell me, Miss King, do you enjoy being a tease?”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “I think you have it all wrong, Mr. Maguire. I only tease if I’m paid to tease. Otherwise, I always deliver.”
He hummed. “Yes, I guess you do. Up.”
He threw my legs off his lap and I scrambled to get up. It was no easy task, being that we were in a limo and all.
“Where do you want me?” I asked. My voice cracked. The look in his eyes told a thousand stories, and I wanted to read them all. I needed to know what he was thinking.
My confidence was failing. Miserably. He left me frustrated and confused. I had to get myself together and take control.
Looking up into his eyes, I gasped. His voice was so soft, I had a feeling he hadn’t wanted me to hear him. I could see there was more to his comment.
I had to turn things around. The fire was burning out and strange emotions were stomping it out, so I got up on my knees and pressed my palms against his chest. “Lean back, Mr. Maguire.”
His lips twitched, but he held back a true smile. He wasn’t used to releasing the control, but I had a feeling he liked it. Wanted it.
I climbed over him once his back was against the cushion of the seat. He was absolute perfection, and that niggling in the back of my head started tugging again. It still made no sense that he was paying me to do what hundreds of women would gladly do for free.
Sacrifice a limb for.
“Tell me, Mr. Maguire,” I purred. “Do you always play hard to get?”
He finally smiled. “Hard to get? I have no intention of playing games.”
He shook his head and moved his arms around to grasp my legs, pulling me down against him.
“The only thing hard around here is me. That’s what you’re here for.”
My skin pricked with excitement.
“I want you to rub your pussy on me. Make me come.”
His words shot through me like a stiff swig of harsh whiskey. Hearing him say he wanted anything from me was like gasoline. My engine roared to life, and my body was ready to give him everything I had.
The dark, bracing look in his eyes pushed me back into the reality of the situation, but there was no way I was turning my body off.
I would give him what he wanted.
“And I want your tits,” he spat. “Take that off so I can touch them.”
I wiggled out of the top, and began to gyrate on his lap, moaning when I felt his hardened cock press against my heat. I wanted him inside desperately. Like never before, I needed it.
“Just like that, and don’t stop. I want to watch you make me come.”
I rolled my hips, pressing myself down on him and moving back up again. Over and over again I went through the motions while he twisted and pulled at my nipples.
He was enthralled with them, never letting his eyes stray. He groaned, biting his lip as he concentrated on his hands and what they were doing with me, but never moved his hips to match my motions.
“I like this,” he murmured, letting his hand slip down my torso and placing it on my stomach. “So soft.”
My head fell back, my eyes rolling and my jaw slack. I wanted to cry out and beg him to touch me, to push my panties out of the way and thrust his fingers deep inside. It was ridiculous how badly I craved his touch. There was electricity between us, a true and undeniable attraction that was driving me slowly insane.
“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”
I whimpered and raised my hips before slamming back down on his lap. He was tempting me, playing with my head, and I was glad he’d thrown me a reminder. This was not seduction. I was there to fulfill his needs, and only that. I wasn’t about to let him patronize me into begging for something from him.
“You like fucking all those men, Jayne? Their sweaty bodies pounding into you without knowing who you are?”
My eyes snapped open and then narrowed. Who the hell did he think he was?
“Does it bother you?” When I didn’t answer, he grabbed my hips, dragging his fingers across my hipbone and spreading his palms across my abdomen, barely avoiding my aching pussy underneath.
“I see. It does, doesn’t it?”
I didn’t answer. I merely gritted my teeth and continued rubbing myself harder and harder over his clothed cock. I would get off, damn it. If he wanted to mess in his pants, that was fine with me. I would still walk away with his money, and an orgasm was just a bonus.
I’d take it.
He smirked, and I’d finally had enough. Rich, handsome, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that I indeed wanted him to fuck me, and badly, but I was no one’s bitch.
Jami Denise is a romance writer from Southern California. While she waits for the next felon to come along and sweep her off her feet, she writes about swoony bad boys and sassy gals that make them squirm. She also loves cats, cars, cupcake flavored lip balm, and cherry limeade.
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