Craving Forbidden (Craving Series Book 8)

by Crave Publishing

  “You got it, sexy.” Her gaze traveled over my abs as she licked her lips. Being in my business, looking good counted, and I made it my day job to work out, for the clients’ visual pleasure, and for my own stamina. Some of these ladies took forever to orgasm.

  Flexing my torso as I pulled on my shirt, I blew her a kiss. With a wave, I left her naked and spent in the bedroom and made my way out the back door, like I did every Wednesday night, to avoid any neighbors seeing me.

  The cold March air hit me like a wall the second I stepped outside. Snow, ice, and wind competed to ruin my fine night. The roll of cash in my pocket warmed my heart though. It would buy my baby nephew new shoes and Mama’s groceries for the week. First, though, I had to give Danny his cut.

  I jogged against the wind to the next block where my car was parked and said goodbye to Crestfall Court and all of its McMansions. I’d been to three of the six houses on Crestfall, thanks to references from Nellie.

  She really was my favorite client.

  Driving the twenty minutes to the office that housed Night Moves, I relaxed and listened to an audiobook about nutrition. In the course of my workouts, nutrition had become a hobby to me. I made a mental note to ask Mama to add more vegetables to her diet and to cut the carbs from our Sunday dinners.

  As soon as I walked through the door of the office, I could tell that Danny was in a mood. He didn’t look up from his paperwork when the bell over the door rang. His shaved head was the size of a basketball, and his huge body dwarfed the tiny desk. In a past life, he’d been a linebacker, then a cop, until he wanted to make real money and opened Night Moves. On the books, the service was merely for dating, dealing solely in cash, and although Danny would never give me stats, I was certain most of the guys provided sex to their dates.

  “What’s up?” I asked, shaking snowflakes off of my jacket as I moved toward the desk.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he held up his hand.

  I slapped the cash into his palm and waited while he shuffled through it. Since I’d been his premiere escort with the most jobs and seniority, he handed me sixty percent. The other guys, about twenty of them who serviced the New Jersey/New York area, only got fifty. I pocketed my hundreds as he jotted something in his ledger.

  “Got a Sunday night job for you,” he muttered.

  “Don’t work Sundays.” I had two conditions of employment: no men and no Sundays. I usually spent Sundays with Mama, my sister, and my nephew. Sundays were for church, dinner, football, dessert, and conversation.

  “You do now,” Danny grunted. “New client who’s paying extra for discretion and you’re the only one I trust.”

  Fuck. “Weekly or one-timer?”

  He leaned back in his chair and finally made eye contact with me. “That depends on you, Ryder.” Danny only used my escort name when he wanted to remind me that I worked for him, not him for me. “If I get extra, you get extra though. You can visit Mama after.”

  “I want seventy percent.” I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring down at him like I could take him. I couldn’t. He had about a hundred pounds on me.

  He laughed at my demand. “Listen, tough guy. Do the Sunday night client for me and I’ll give you a day off during the week. She’s skittish, but once she sees that the sky won’t fall if you fuck someone who’s not your beloved, she’ll loosen up a bit and I could put one of the newbies on her. You’d be doing me a favor.”

  I scoffed. “Fine.” He’d given me the opportunity to work for him five years ago when I was fresh out of high school and working at the gas station he frequented. He was patient as I got my bearings and learned the ropes. Somewhere along the line, we became friends, sort of. “Sunday fucking night. I hate her already.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Danny said, leaning over his ledgers. “Her name’s Tessa. I’ll text you the info.”

  Rolling my eyes, I let myself out and drove home in a pissy mood.

  Chapter 2

  Ma cursed at me in Italian for skipping out on church.

  “I’ll be there later for dinner. I promise.” I could practically smell the carbs through the phone.

  “What could you possibly have to do on a Sunday, Massimo?” she asked in Italian. “It’s the Lord’s day.”

  I answered in English. “I have to work. Kiss Giorgi for me and tell him Uncle Max will be there as soon as I can.”

  She huffed and hung up on me.

  Taking a deep breath, I looked in the mirror to put myself in work mode. The new client lived in suburbia, as most of my higher-paying clients did, so I had to look sharp, but not nerdy. Fashionable, but not too trendy. I opted for a plain grey t-shirt under an open button down, and slim-fit jeans, the same outfit as the mannequin at the Gap. My dark, longish hair had minimal gel, but managed to wave over my forehead, and I’d left my five o’clock shadow to give myself an edgier look. I’d even plucked a few wayward eyebrow hairs from over my brown eyes.

  Luckily, I’d inherited my father’s swarthy, Mediterranean looks. I prayed a silent thanks to my Pa up in heaven for the good genes, olive-skin, and lean, muscular physique, then grabbed my keys. I had no idea where my life would have taken me, or how Ma and my sister, Lucia, would survive if I wasn’t successful as an escort. It wasn’t that I wanted to have sex for cash—someday I wanted to settle down and be normal—but for the moment, it was all I knew. With baby Giorgio in the mix, Ma and Lucia needed my help more than ever.

  Unlike the McMansions on Crestfall, Tessa’s house was a decent-sized Cape Cod at the end of a cul-de-sac, surrounded by trees and brush. The brick path that led to the front door was sprinkled with salt and lined with solar spotlights, flowers, and ceramic frogs.

  I jumped the three stairs of the porch. Since I didn’t have instructions to do otherwise, I rang the bell.

  A few seconds later, the door opened a crack and an eye peeked around it. The heat from inside wafted out toward me.

  Clients were usually a little skeptical the first time. “Tessa? Hey. I’m Ryder.” I rubbed my hands together to warm them.

  She inched the door open and I got my first look at her. Petite, blonde, pale. When she smiled, I smiled back, and she opened the door a bit more. Curvy, chubby but not fat. She wore a cute, pink, shirt-dress-type-thing and looked clean and pretty.

  I could work with all of that.

  “Are you still interested in our date?” I whispered. Had to watch in these older neighborhoods. Ears could be anywhere. I shivered, hoping she’d either let me in, or kick me to the curb, which I wouldn’t mind since Mama’s sauce was waiting for me.

  But she opened the door all the way. “Uh, yes. Come in.”

  I stepped inside and she closed the door behind me. The house was small, cozy, and dimly lit with a fireplace and mantel holding picture frames. No signs of kids. A couple of handmade blankets and an open book on the arm of the couch, spine up, caught my eye.

  I took off my jacket. She held out a hand and took it from me. “Would you like a drink?”

  Her voice was tiny, shaky. Everything about her screamed classy and feminine. “No, thank you. But feel free to indulge.” I never drank on the job, but I encouraged my clients to drink if it relaxed them, with hopes that the sex would be efficient and satisfying.

  She shook her head. “Thank you. But I’m not much of a drinker.”

  I wasn’t surprised.

  We stood there on her hardwood floors while I waited for her instructions. Finally, she reached out a hand.

  Unsure, I took the tiny thing. Her fingers were warm but strong. She led me to the staircase, and I followed her up the creaky wooden stairs, checking out her perfect, round ass as it swayed in front of me, the skirt moving back and forth, to get myself in the mood to fuck.

  Upstairs, she led me to the door in the middle of the hallway. She pushed it open and let go of my hand. The full-sized bed, covered in a white comforter, took up most of the room. A wooden dresser stood across from the bed, with a nightstand holding a lamp next
to it. The money was stacked on the dresser, as per Danny’s instructions to all of the clients.

  With a smile to Tessa, I slid out of my button-down, and grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Thought I’d get comfortable.” I tried my sexy smirk to put her at ease.

  “Oh, well. Is that how it works? I mean. Can you…” Her face turned thirty shades of pink. “Do other things?”

  Fuck. I’d made a rookie mistake. Going too fast.

  “We can do whatever you’d like, Tessa.” I pulled my t-shirt down and replaced my button down. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thanks.” She nodded curtly, the ends of her blonde hair brushing her shoulders, her brow furrowed. In the dim light of the room, I could make out her blue eyes. “Could you just lie on the bed?”

  I shrugged. “Whatever you want. I’m here to serve.”

  She twisted her lips into a sideways grin. “Thank you.”

  Damn, I’d only been there five minutes and she’d already thanked me multiple times. “Shoes?” I asked.

  “You can leave them on.”

  I’d had clients like her before. Tessa would either need some warming up to get to the sex, or she’d be a complete freak in the sack and this was some kind of controlling dominatrix shit she was pulling on me. From her blush and shakiness, my guess was the former.

  I walked to the side of the bed.

  “No,” she said. “The other side.”

  Okay. She was particular.

  I laid on the bed, watching the ceiling fan spin above me.

  She shut off the light and I waited, hoping she wasn’t a psycho killer who got off by luring and murdering male escorts. But to my surprise, Tessa laid down next to me, fully clothed herself, and rested her head on my chest. She draped an arm around my torso, a leg around my thigh, and sighed.

  Um.

  I wasn’t sure what she wanted me to do, so I asked.

  “Just this,” she said. “Please don’t talk.”

  Since she couldn’t see me, I laid there, staring at the ceiling, while she used me as a pillow. Jesus fucking Christ. Mama’s pasta waited for me and here I was with crazy Tessa.

  When the hour was up, my phone alarm dinged in my pocket.

  Tessa sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Thank you.”

  Again with the thank you. “You’re welcome?”

  Her shoulders sagged, and in that instant, I knew my attitude was coming through. She looked like she was going to cry, and I hated when women cried. “I hope…I mean…were you…satisfied with my services?”

  She pointed to the dresser. “Your fee.”

  I stood and took the money, rolling it and shoving it into my pocket.

  Her bottom lip quivered. “Can you see yourself out?”

  “Sure. Have a nice night,” I added.

  “You too, Ryder.” She wiggled her fingers in a wave.

  I practically ran out of the strange lady’s house into the cold night air, heading to my car down the block. As soon as I started the engine, I took off, calling Danny with the Bluetooth.

  “Yo,” he answered. “How’d it go with Tessa?”

  “You are not going to believe this, bro.” I told him how I laid there and collected the money and left.

  “Huh. No sex?”

  “Not only no sex, nothing. I didn’t even talk to her.” I turned onto the highway toward Mama’s house. “Maybe we weren’t a match or something. You should put a rookie on her.”

  “Nice try,” he said. “She already called to book you again for next Sunday.”

  “Oh fuck no,” I yelled.

  “I asked if she’d try another guy. She said no, so you did something right.” He chuckled into the phone. “Maybe she has to work up to the sex. Get to know you—”

  “She barely said two words to me.” My blood boiled, thinking of another awkward Sunday at Tessa’s. “I don’t work Sundays, Dan. That’s part of our deal.”

  “I’ll give you seventy-five percent for Tessa. Easy money.”

  He knew money was my weakness. I’d do almost anything for extra cash. “Fucker,” I said.

  He laughed as I hung up on him.

  Chapter 3

  I had a client every day that week. My cash flow was kick ass, and I called Danny to try and get out of Sunday. He refused, loving that Tessa paid us a fortune.

  When I showed up at her house Sunday evening, I was ready for anything. Maybe she wanted to fuck, maybe she wanted to talk. Maybe she’d carve my guts out with a kitchen knife. I didn’t know and didn’t really care. Mama had been pissed when I told her that church would be out for me for the foreseeable future, but I couldn’t pass up the money Danny offered, and I did work for the guy, so I had to go.

  I rocked on my heels as I waited at her door, the creepy ceramic frogs staring at me. When Tessa opened it to me this time, her hair was pulled off her face, and her big blue eyes lit up.

  “Come in,” she said.

  I followed her to her room, up the creaky stairs. Her ass swayed in a pair of flannel pajama pants decorated with cats. I spotted the money on the dresser and she pointed at the bed.

  With a sigh, I laid on “my” side. She shut off the lights, and joined me, curling her body around mine.

  “So,” I tried, wondering if she was looking for more of a counseling type relationship, “what do you do for a living?”

  She shushed me. “Please don’t talk.”

  I kept my mouth closed, and she didn’t object when I moved my arm around her waist and held her to me. With a deep inhale, I let myself relax for the hour, and it was actually kind of nice for a change. Warm. Quiet. Soft. Everything about Tessa seemed exactly that way—warm, quiet, and soft. Like nothing I’d ever experienced as an escort.

  Later, I asked Mama, in vague terms, what she thought. “What should I do for a woman who seems kind of sad?” I asked as I bounced Giorgi on my knee. My sister had dressed him in the football jersey I’d bought him.

  She put a tray of cannoli in front of me. “What do you mean?”

  “Like, she’s all quiet and wants to hang out in the dark.” I shoved the tray back at her. “Come on, Ma. You know I can’t eat that stuff.”

  “You can have a taste,” she scolded, holding one up for me. When I took a bite of it, her face softened. “Maybe your lady friend is depressed.”

  “Maybe.” Damn the cannoli was good, but not good enough to do an extra half hour on the treadmill. After my bite, I gave it to Giorgi. He threw it across the room, and my sister cursed at me from the kitchen.

  Turning back to Mama, I asked, “What can I do to help?” Not that I wanted to be Tessa’s therapist, but maybe I wasn’t doing something I should be. This odd woman had me twisted up.

  “Maybe by letting her be sad, you’re helping.”

  My thoughts wandered to what made Tessa so sad that she’d call an escort service. Shaking my head to clear it, I pulled the money out of my pocket. I’d already separated out Danny’s cut to deliver to him the next day.

  “For you,” I held it out to Mama.

  She took it. “Thank you, Massimo.”

  Mama didn’t exactly know what I did for a living. I’d told her I was a landscaper-slash-snow removal worker who got paid under the books, but she was too smart to believe that. She said she didn’t want to know, and as long as what I was doing was legal and safe, she was okay with it.

  It was legal, sort of. And I made sure to always be safe. Unfortunately, since my sister got pregnant in high school and Pa died the same year, Ma had been struggling financially until I started escorting. She’d offered to get me into the Port Authority through my uncle, but I declined. Escorting was easier and paid better, and the only thing I felt confident doing.

  After dessert, I met Danny at the office. The bell on the door dinged when I walked in. Without looking up, he yelled, “You fuck her yet?”

  I threw the money at him and placed a bag of Mama’s cannoli o
n the desk. “I took my share already. I want out. It’s a waste of time.”

  He counted the bills and wiggled them in front of me. “Doesn’t seem like a waste of time to me. You remember our number one rule?”

  “Wear a condom?”

  He nodded. “Okay, number two rule?”

  I didn’t respond.

  “Give the client what they want.” He stood and sat on his desk, facing me. “She wants to pay hundreds of dollars to lay there, then fucking lay there.”

  “Something’s up with this chick. If she slaughters me, my blood is on your hands.”

  “Whatever.” He took a bite of the cannoli and moaned in pleasure. “When your Mama’s ready to remarry, tell her I’m available.”

  “Fuck you,” I said, giving him the finger over my shoulder as I walked out of the office.

  At home that night, I sat in my tiny studio apartment and fired up my laptop. Typing in “Tessa” and her address, I was able to dig up a little information.

  The house on the cul-de-sac was owned by Tessa Truett, now aged twenty-five, and her husband, James Truett. She was a kindergarten teacher, which seemed about right. He was an up-and-coming financial wizard.

  When I searched him, though, my chest tightened and I had to fight the urge to vomit.

  James had been killed a year earlier during a carjacking. The newspaper articles revealed that Tessa had witnessed the entire thing, holding James in her arms as he died, on the ground of the parking garage at the mall where the carjacker had attacked. They had only been married a year.

  Damn. No wonder the woman was a mess.

  I stood and paced my apartment, wondering what to do with the information. All week, I stewed about whether to tell Danny. I decided to keep it to myself. We weren’t supposed to get involved in clients’ personal lives. Certainly, I shouldn’t have been Google-stalking the poor woman.

  But something about her big blue eyes and our quiet Sundays sparked a hero complex in me, and I couldn’t get her out of my mind.