by Kenya Wright
Shalimar interrupted my thoughts. “That’s a pretty tattoo on your back.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you ready to put everything on?”
“Yeah.” I turned her way, still not comfortable with being completely naked around her.
Shalimar brought over several items and placed them on my bed. “So, Jean-Pierre wanted to provide his own guards for you which was a nice way of him saying: no one but his people will be around you.”
“What will we do about my personal bodyguard?”
“Buggy knows the location of where you’ll be staying these thirty days. He’ll be in a car parked across the street. If something happens, he’ll come in and get you.”
“That’s if he can come in.”
“Yeah.” She gave me a weak smile. “That’s if he can come in.”
I ran my fingers through my hair.
“Second thoughts?”
“Yeah, but I’m still going to do it.”
“Buggy will have your back. You won’t be alone.”
“Good.”
“And I’ll be by my phone and on call the whole time.”
“Good.”
She picked up a piece of black lingerie and wagged it in front of her. It was crafted from rigid, sheer black mesh. “Okay, so let’s put this on.”
“What’s that? A mini-corset?”
“It’s a waspie.” She held it out in front of her. “It’s a type of corset but more like an under bust that’s short.”
She helped me put the waspie on. It hugged my waist and gave me a curvier form. Next, she helped me step into my dress and zipped it in the back.
“Any tips?” I turned to Shalimar.
“I think to keep Jean-Pierre’s attention. You must be cerebral like him. . .The woman he will chase is probably one that pours all her attention on him, then later excuses herself to do something else.”
“Got it.” There was so much to remember between Leo and Shalimar.
“But. . .most of all just be yourself.”
“Now you say that?”
“He did offer 100k because you were you. That means something.”
“How much does he usually offer?”
“10k. So in the end, do what works for you. He’ll stop if you tell him to.” She headed to the door. “I’ll look out for the car, you finish getting dressed.”
I spent the rest of the time, freshening up my makeup and making sure my hair remained styled and in place. Over and over, I whispered confident affirmations in my head, anything to calm my nerves.
Minutes dragged along.
The more time went by, the more my fingers shook.
Finally, Shalimar ducked her head in. “Okay. The driver is outside. I packed everything. If you need anything, then call me.”
“What if Aunt Celina comes by or something?”
“Then, she just missed you. For now, let’s keep up the story that you texted her today.”
I’d told Aunt Celina that a new benefactor had discovered me and wanted me to play for his daughter’s wedding. I said I would be busy practicing for the event.
I hoped that would keep Aunt Celina busy for a few weeks.
I rose and headed to the door. “I should’ve thought of something better.”
“Well, we’re just trying to see if you can even make it for a week.”
“Thanks for the confidence.” I was close to puking.
“Hey, if every woman could be a prostitute, there would be a lot more broke men.” She stopped me and messed with my hair. “You look amazing.”
“Thank you.”
“You can do this.”
“I can do it.”
She patted my bottom. “Go make that money, Eden.”
100k. Let’s do it.
Breathing in and out, I left my apartment and entered Jean-Pierre’s world.
His limo waited for me. The driver stood by the opened back door. My heart pounded against my ribs as I headed his way and slipped into the back seat of the limo. Shalimar brought my bags out and handed them to the driver who loaded them in the back.
Minutes later, we pulled into traffic. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
Remember. 100k and Eros. I can do this.
The thoughts didn’t make me calm. If anything, terror filled me.
My hands trembled in my lap. This was uncharted territory. Everything about this experience would change me. How I thought. How I lived. How I grew as a person.
Dad could never find out. Neither could Aunt Celina.
I looked out the window to focus on something else. But the ride reminded me that I was getting closer and closer to Jean-Pierre.
Am I really going to do this? Yes. I am. Just do it, and don’t vomit at the same time.
I let out a long breath and decided to check my make-up.
You look fine. Think about something else.
I pulled out my phone and texted Leo, letting him know I was on my way. He’d been on the studio gig again.
Leo: You’ve got this! It’ll be fine.
I tapped my screen in a nervous frenzy and pulled up Google™. For some reason I’d been avoiding doing another search of Jean-Pierre since the mention of this deal. Once I would be with him, I wouldn’t have the chance to research him as much.
If I learn more about him, it’ll calm me.
For the rest of the ride to Jean-Pierre’s penthouse, I looked up his boss, Rafael Dubois. The one with the scar on his cheek. I’d only discovered the news on his jail break. There weren’t many pictures of him online. The last image they had of him was his mugshot.
The news had reported that two men stormed into the jail, dressed in black with some sort of grinding machine. They used that machine to open the visiting room’s door. Rafael then blasted his way out of prison with explosives that had been smuggled to him earlier and concealed in tissue packs. The helicopter came right at the end, taking Rafael, his accomplices, and Jean-Pierre with them.
And that was how Jean-Pierre had become the Corsican’s accountant? But how did they become friends in jail?
That must’ve been a fascinating story.
Did Jean-Pierre fear Rafael?
The article didn’t report any more about the men. The cops discovered the helicopter on fire in the northern suburbs of Paris. Rafael had been the suspected mastermind and head of the Corsican. Meanwhile nothing else had been reported of Jean-Pierre.
Both men disappeared from French media after that.
The limo pulled in front of a large building and stopped.
Five suited men outlined the glass doors with menacing expressions. Their eyes and faces held hard edges. A few had jagged scars on their necks.
The little hairs on the back of my neck began to rise. My heart came close to exploding. I didn't breathe or blink for a few seconds. I sat there frozen.
The driver opened my door.
It’s fine. Be bold. Go for it.
I lifted my foot and stepped out onto the pavement.
The men’s gazes fell on me.
Keeping my head high and my violin case close, I walked toward the building.
One of the men nodded and opened the door. Another gestured for me to follow him.
See. This isn’t a big deal so far.
“Thank you.” I stepped inside.
Leo told me to look everyone in the eyes. Never turn away. Own the room. Shalimar had advised to be as confident as possible. Shoulders back and head up.
“You own him. He doesn’t own you.”
The man led me past the lobby.
It was hard to not have my mouth drop open. I hadn’t been on this side of Belladonna before. It was known for its affluent neighborhood. In this building, the lobby was bigger than my apartment. Chandeliers sparkled with crystals.
My dress swished against my thighs as the man led me to the elevator.
Of course, I’d brought the violin with me. Maybe he would want me to play…right before he asked me to suck his cock. Who knew how one did
these things?
The elevator doors opened. The man and I stepped on. He pressed the button for the twentieth floor and remained silent.
Breathe. And don’t puke or fart.
For whatever reason, when it was this quiet on an elevator, I never wanted to be the one who farted.
Stop being stupid. You’re a seductress.
I gripped the violin case. Eros anchored me in this mysterious ocean swarming around. My heart boomed in my ears.
This is the longest elevator ride in the history of elevator rides.
We made it to the top without any incident.
The doors opened right into the penthouse.
Oh shit. It’s about to start. I’m doing this. No turning back.
The guard left the elevator. I followed him down the hallway. My legs grew wobbly in the heels.
100k. 100k.
With my back straight, I continued to walk and keep up a more confident pace.
All the lights were low. The walls were decorated with rich fabrics.
Several armed men scattered around the various rooms. They watched me walking by, never letting their gazes leave me.
I ignored them and took in the massive penthouse.
It was a stunning apartment in the heart of Belladonna. Most of the floors were oak. Expansive views surrounded the airy twentieth-floor balcony. At first glance, I saw a modern kitchen with expensive finishes and marble countertops.
And then the man stopped at a mahogany door and signaled for me to go in. A rough voice left him. “He’s inside.”
“Thank you.”
He opened the door and I entered a huge office. Shadows covered his space in the many colors of dusk. All I could make out was polished wood and smooth leather.
I can do this. I'll be able to pull it off. I feel perfect. I feel confident.
But then I spotted Jean-Pierre sitting behind desk. My head spun and my stomach knotted.
And I knew that this experience would make or break my soul.
Chapter 11
Mon Beau
Eden
Fuck.
Jean-Pierre sat at his desk, reading something on his computer, but he looked up when I opened the door. I wondered if I would ever get used to him watching me. Meeting his gaze felt like touching an electric wire in the rain.
He rose. “Mon beau.”
“My beautiful.”
He looked incredible—he’d taken off his usual suit jacket. His crisp, white, dress shirt was rolled up to his elbows, revealing his tanned forearms. With one layer stripped off, he looked less dangerous, like someone I could actually talk to or get to know, instead of the French mafia’s accountant. Less le Boucher and more magnifique.
He was so good-looking, and so absurdly rich. He could have any model he wanted, any singer, any actress, anyone at all who turned him on.
Why me?
I cleared my throat. “Hello.”
“I’m glad you said yes. Are you nervous?”
“A little.”
Nodding, he slowly strolled around his desk. “Would you like a drink?”
“Yes.”
He walked over to the small bar near a large book case and poured some whiskey. “What’s on your mind about our deal?”
“I’m still wondering about this girlfriend experience.”
“What it entails?”
“Yes.”
He turned around with two full glasses and walked over to me. “I want you to feel complete pleasure.”
A shiver of lust ran through my body.
I took the glass from him.
He remained right in front of me. Half a foot of space lay between us. Heat bridged. Already, I wanted him. I had no doubt I could fuck him for this money. That was clear in every part of my body. The only problem I could see, was if I could walk away.
“So, you’re paying a 100k for me to have a lot of orgasms?”
He gave me a wicked smile. “That’s one of the things I’m paying for.”
“What are the others?”
“I want to see inside of you. Deep down to your soul. All the way to your fantasies. Even the wicked ones.” He licked his lips. “What do you think about when your panties get so wet, you have to touch yourself?”
A surge of arousal coiled in my stomach. My palms went sweaty. I gripped the glass harder as I took another gulp.
“Tell me,” he whispered.
“Lately, when my panties get super wet. . .it’s because I’m thinking about you.”
Silence came next as he watched me sip the drink.
“I want to see inside of you. Deep down to your soul.”
This was just supposed to be business. I had to remember that. Jean-Pierre was just business. No matter how hot he made me. No matter how much my body throbbed, and my heart raced and ached. No matter how much my panties soaked.
This was just an arrangement of sex. A proposal to fuck with no strings attached. No connection. No yearning for more. Just two bodies slipping and sliding against each other.
“Do you agree to our deal? Or do you have more questions?”
“I…agree.”
“No.” He took a sip of his drink. “You still have concerns. Tell me now. Because when I start, I won’t want to stop. I can see that with you.”
We needed this discussion, even Leo had recommended that. And just because Shalimar had given him a GFE three years ago, that didn’t mean he still enjoyed the same things.
I took another sip and gave him my first question. “Are you into kinky things that deal with pain?”
“No. I only want you and I to feel pleasure.”
“Good.” I placed the glass on the small table near me. “I would want to only use a condom.”
“That was already brokered in the deal.”
Everything happened so fast. Shalimar had spouted out all the details as well as advice. It was difficult to keep track of it all.
I made sure to look him in the eyes. “If I don’t want to do something, I won’t do it.”
“I agree.” He gave me a wicked smile. “I don’t want to hurt you, and you’ll find that every way I make love to you, you’ll love. Every last stroke.”
My legs felt weak.
Well. . .I do like the sound of that. But could it all be this simple?
He extended his hand. “Do you agree?”
“I agree.” I shook his and felt that surge of energy zoom through to me.
Jesus. He feels so good.
He took away his hand and I instantly missed it. Next, he grabbed my empty glass, finished his, and set them both on the desk.
Okay? What’s next? Do I start giving him a blow job or something?
He undid his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt but didn’t take it off. Sex pulsed from him. He leaned against the desk and gazed at me with such intensity that I thought my dress would melt away. “Let’s begin.”
Okay. Okay. You are ready.
I squirmed, wanting him to come touch me. My voice lowed to a lusty plea. “What do you want me to do?”
“Take off your dress.”
I parted my lips as my breath left me.
“You won’t be wearing too many clothes these next thirty days.”
Jean-Pierre was paying me, and it was a reasonable request.
I shivered, thinking about all the things he could make me do. I would do them. Anything, whatever he wanted, or close enough.
As long as it doesn’t hurt me.
I swallowed. I knew, intellectually, that at some point I would have to undress, but I hadn’t expected it to happen like this, with me standing in front of him, exposed, and him staring up at me so calmly, like he told girls to take off their dresses every day.
Maybe he did.
My hands trembled. I raised them and reached behind me.
“Hmmm,” he whispered. “Maybe I should help you.”
He walked over and got behind me. His warm breath brushed against my neck. Inch by inch, he lowered the zipper
on my dress.
With my back exposed, he hissed.
I glanced over my shoulder.
Heat blazed in his eyes. “This tattoo is going to get you in trouble.”
I forgot he hadn’t seen it before. My back had been covered.
He moved the sides of the dress away, touched the back of my neck, and slipped his fingers down the tattooed violin strings on my spine. “Jesus.”
Under his touch, my body shivered with lust.
He left me.
Where did he go?
Shocked, I watched him return to his spot by the desk.
“Finish,” he whispered.
I pulled the sides of the dress down, revealing a candy red bra.
He widened his eyes. Those pupils appeared dilated.
I thought about what Shalimar had said earlier.
“He did offer 100k because you were you. That means something.”
“How much does he usual offer?”
“10k. So in the end, do what works for you. . .”
Confidence filled me. Wanting to tease a little, I pulled the dress down inch by inch.
Hissing, he gripped the desk. “Tentatrice.”
“Temptress.”
My body exploded in arousal. My breath quickened. My nipples stiffened. My pussy ached. My panties were soaked.
So far, so good.
I enjoyed this moment. He was letting me take my time and stay in control. He’d paid a lot. He could’ve ordered me to drop to my knees. There was no reason why my mouth shouldn’t have been stuffed with cock.
But Jean-Pierre watched me with an intense gaze, giving me a visual foreplay that no other man could pull off. And the moment was so hot. I loved how he stood there on the edge, but clothed. And I stood across from him, slowly stripping and almost exposed.
The top of the dress hit my waist.
I slid it down a little and then looked at him from beneath lowered eyelids. Leo had talked about fuck-me eyes. I gave him my best ones.
It worked.
Jean-Pierre licked his lips, leaned on the desk more, and spread his thighs apart. A big bulge pushed against his pants.
Damn.
He grunted. “Je veux voir plus.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“I want to see more.”
Inch by inch, I slipped the dress away, and the whole time he hissed at my slow-moving hands. I thought of Leo’s theory of seduction—how it was all about the lead-up to sex—the desire. And that sometimes, it was all in the eyes.
