by Jane Henry
“You shouldn’t agree so readily,” I warn her. “What if I were a serial killer?”
I got what I wanted, so why the fuck am I arguing with her?
She blinks, and her cheeks flush pink. “Well I… the agency vets their clients, sir. Right?”
I grunt, scroll through the contract myself, and tap the signature line. It pops up for me to sign, which I do. The contract automatically gets sent to the agency. I shut off my phone.
“Don’t they?” she asks.
“Of course they do.” But what she doesn’t know is I’m rich enough to bypass any screening they have for me. Whatever they’d charge would be a rounding error.
I place my phone on the table and look her over. “More wine?”
She nods. “Please.” She giggles. A lightweight? I’ll take care to not let her drink too much.
I refill her glass and bring it back to her, but I slide it on the table in front of her. She reaches for it, but I cluck my tongue.
“Ah ah, little girl. You ask for permission.”
She bites her lip, and my need grows stronger. “Please, sir? May I?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
Her lower lip juts out, but I shake my head. “No pouting. Pouting is for naughty girls, and naughty girls get a spanking.”
Right over daddy’s lap.
Her nostrils flare and her eyes widen, but she steels herself with a deep breath. “That’s what you meant by permission.”
There’s nothing about her that’s pretense, nothing but honest responses. She doesn’t know it, but it’s so damn gratifying I’d give her anything she asked for right now.
“It is.”
Among other things.
I wait another moment before I give my next instruction.
“You may have your wine, but remember, Katie. You’re on my time now.”
She nods. “Tell me what to do, sir. I’m eager to please you.”
I want to reach for her, drag her onto my lap and kiss her lips until she melts into me, then lay her out and make her come until she arches her back and screams.
But I school myself. I gesture to the glass and nod. “You may have your wine, under one condition.”
“Sir?”
“You’ll drink it naked. Strip for me.”
Chapter 3
Katie
Naked?
What did I expect as my first night as an escort? That I’d come up here and we’d play checkers while I remained fully clothed? That he’d be so enamored by my small talk, my company alone would fulfill any needs he may have?
This man is sex personified, all confidence and grace and power, and he’s even sort of... brooding and angry, like Beauty’s Beast. I want to kiss every inch of his golden skin, run my fingers along the silver that etches his hair and jaw, drag my tongue down—whoa. What am I doing?
My fingers shake as I reach for the glass. “Um… I can do that, let me just have a bit more, first.” A little liquid courage.
My hand freezes halfway across the table, hovering in the air, when I see the look on his face. He’s got one dark brow raised at me, his jaw is clenched, a muscle by his chin twitching with displeasure.
What have I done? Danger, my mind warns, even as my body heats.
I draw my hand back. “Er... or I can take my clothes off first?”
His lips twitch. “You’re learning quickly.”
Something in the way he stares at me, like I’m a prize to be won even though he’s already got me. It’s unnerving, and yet I find it extremely erotic. What luck to be seeking inspiration for my next novel, and to be called upon by this man, a man that oozes sex and power.
Am I crazy? I’ve gone from starving artist to insanity in the space of an evening.
But ten thousand dollars...
The alcohol’s doing its job. Somewhere, in the dim recesses of my mind, I know I should be more nervous than this. But the thought of stripping in front of those hungry eyes of his has my heart hammering and my body trembling with excitement.
I stand from my seat beside him. If he’s paying me ten grand for this little peep show, I’m going to make it good. I do my best to sashay, swaying my ass like the girls downstairs, as I walk around the coffee table.
Facing him, I give him a sexy little grin, hopefully looking more confident than I feel. I reach behind my back, floundering for my zipper.
I can’t find it.
Tossing my hair over my shoulder in what I hope is a sexy manner, I give a little laugh. “Just a moment…” and fumble some more. Finally finding the little metal rascal, I give it a tug.
It’s stuck.
Damn.
So much for a sexy strip show. “Ah… just you wait, big boy. I’ve got this under control.”
What-the-fuck… Big boy? Where did that come from?
He gives a growl. “Another one of my many rules—you may call me sir, nothing else. With one exception once we get to know one another better.” He gives me that look again, the one that makes my nipples tighten and my core throb.
One exception?
“Yes, sir.” My fingers grab at the hem of my dress, tugging it upwards. I struggle to get the material over my hips, but I finally yank it up around my waist. I give him a wink, “Just another minute and...”
Fuck. I’m stuck.
The dress is wrapped around my ribcage. My black panties are on display, my bare legs and stomach dotting with goosebumps in the cool air. Tugging at the fabric, I twist it, trying to decide between forcing it over my breasts, or pulling it back down and trying the zipper again.
This is humiliating. Fifteen minutes of being an escort and I’m trapped in my clothing like a sausage in casing.
To further my embarrassment, tears prick at the backs of my eyes. I have no clue what I’m doing. “I-I’m not sure how to—”
“Let me help you.” He stands, moving with the grace of a panther as he crosses the room to me. Heat flashes over my skin where his fingers brush, as he maneuvers the dress back down over my hips. His lips tickle my earlobe as he whispers, “I do love to unwrap a gift.”
He pulls the zipper down slowly, barely touching me, but lighting a fire all the same.
The dress falls to the floor.
“No more touching. My turn.”
My breath catches in my throat as his fingers go to the strap of my bra. With one flick, he’s loosened it, freeing my breasts.
The black bra falls to the ground, joining the dress.
His hands go to my shoulders. The cool crinkling of his shirt, the heat of his chest, presses against my naked back. As he smooths his hands down my arms, his lips find the curve of my neck, kissing me softly.
A sigh escapes my lips.
He whispers, “Lose the panties.”
I freeze.
What am I doing?
I’m in the penthouse of a stranger, drinking wine and taking off my clothes for money.
I should leave. And yet…
He grabs my waist, turning me to face him. His hands fall and he steps back to take me in. His gaze rests heavy on my face, a look of admiration in his eyes. They lower, taking in my breasts. My nipples are already peaked like little pink berries standing at attention for him.
A dampening in my panties tells me that I want this night.
I need this night.
This dark stranger who makes me say please. Forces me to follow his rules. Tells me to strip off my clothing.
I should be scared, and maybe I am, a little. Who knew being scared could heighten arousal? Maybe it was the way he kissed my injured knee so gently, as if wanting to make it all better, or how gently he helped me with my zipper. I’m not sure what it is exactly, but something about him makes me feel safe.
And at the same time, like I’m dancing on a high wire.
My heart races in my chest as my fingers find the elastic waist of my panties. Surprised by my own boldness, I hold his gaze as I lower them down, down, down, letting them float to the flo
or with the rest of my clothing. Placing a hand on his shoulder for balance, I step out of them.
And stand before him fully nude.
I don’t even have to tell myself to stop my arms from trying to cover my nakedness; I know that would displease him. They hang at my sides, letting him fully take me in.
A tremble runs through me at the tightening in his jaw. He swallows hard, as if he’s trying to hold something back, an unfulfilled desire. A look I can’t quite read flashes through his eyes. His voice is gruff when he speaks. “Beautiful.”
My skin prickles. No one’s ever said that to me with such honesty. He means it.
And he’s back to all business. “Get your wine.”
It’s not lost on me that in order to retrieve my glass from the low coffee table, I’ll have to bend over. Why not give him his money’s worth?
I swish my hips as I walk over to the table. Being sure to angle my bottom at him, I bend at the waist, reaching for my glass slowly.
When I have the wine in my hand, I turn back to face him. “May I have a drink of my wine, now? Sir?”
“You may.” He watches my lips with the cool confidence of someone who wins their conquests.
I take a long sip from the glass, letting the chilled, tangy liquid slide down my throat. Licking my bottom lip with the tip of my tongue, I say, “Delicious.”
“I thought we could enjoy the hot tub.” He extends his arm to me, offering it. I take it, holding my wine glass in my hand.
I look at his suit pants and crisp white shirt. “Are you coming in too?”
“I’ll enjoy it more sitting where I can see the full view of what I’ve treated myself to this evening.”
He means me. My body. I’m the treat. Whoa.
He leads me out of the living room, and a wall of glass doors disappears with his one-word command: Open. The spotless panels move to the side, as if on a track, and the night breeze blows by my flushed cheeks. We step out onto the massive veranda and I’m taken with the view of the city. Lights and buildings stretch for miles, the dusky blue sky spreading behind it like a backdrop of a painting. The walls around the outdoor pavilion are all made of glass. Making me feel as if we are floating over Vegas.
Before me, sunk into the concrete ground, is a bubbling hot tub, the water aqua blue, lit from below. Steam rises from the water, inviting me in.
“Will anyone see me naked?”
“No,” he says, his jaw ticking. “We can see out, but they can’t see in.” He scowls. “Do you think I’d share you with the world so easily?”
Ooh. Possessive. I like.
Holding onto his arm, I lower myself down into the tub. The temperature is perfect, the water warming my body as the jets massage my back. As I rest back in the curved seat, I take another sip of wine. The cool air, the crisp, sweet drink, combined with the warm water is a heavenly sensation.
And having his gaze on me, admiring me, watching my naked body in the water is as sinful an experience as I’ve ever had.
I’m an open book, with the exception of one little secret that I’ve kept buried deep inside, hidden from my readers; I’m not as experienced in the art of lovemaking as my steamy novels would suggest.
If I was an ice cream flavor, I’d be vanilla—no kinkasaurus Rex, here. I just happen to be blessed with a vivid imagination.
I didn’t think about it until this moment, and now that I do, I realize it could prove to be a very big problem. Do I tell him now? Or wait and see if I am capable of playing by his rules, keeping up this charade that I’m equipped to be an escort?
I choose... wine.
I take another long, slow sip, calming my nerves with the sweet nectar and the enchanting view of the city.
He takes a seat in a sleek black lounge chair across from me. Kicking up his feet, he crosses his long legs at the ankles. He stretches out, bending his elbows and resting his hands behind his head. His gaze drifts upwards taking in the sky.
Then, it finds me.
I’m not sure how much coverage the bubbles are providing me. Heat rises in my cheeks, and luckily it can be explained away by the heat of the water.
But that’s not what has my breaths coming in heavier bursts, my heart beating harder, my face flushing further.
It’s him. The way he carries himself. The way he looks at me. The latent anger and power in every movement.
His gaze is hunger, possession, and something else I’ve not seen in the eyes of a man before. Perhaps it's because he’s older than I am, more experienced. Or maybe there's something very different about this man, something that sets him apart from the other billionaire playboys.
And I need to find out what it is. After all, I have a novel to write.
“So, what’s a guy like you doing without a date on a night like this?” I take another sip of wine. My hand moves through the water, my fingers trailing through the bubbles. “Surely you have your pick of women in Vegas.”
He breaks my gaze for a moment. Then, he’s back, his tone gruff. “I’ll be the one asking the questions tonight. Let’s start with this one—how did you come to be an escort?”
He stares at me hard, giving me the feeling of being a naughty little schoolgirl sent to the principal for lying. I swallow, hard. Waving a hand in the air, I dismiss his question. “Oh, you know... I’ve got student loans to pay and things of that nature.”
“You’ve got a lot of bills? Are you an over spender?” He raises a dark, chastising brow. A little trill of something like fear, but not quite, zings through me.
“Um… no.” You can’t spend what you don’t have. “Just, you know, trying to get ahead on the bills that I do have.”
His eyes lock on mine. A beat of silence echoes in the air. Then, he asks, “Katie. Are you really an escort?”
Without thinking, denial flows from my mouth. “Of course I am! You saw me with those girls. I mean... what else would I have been doing at a Sugar Daddies meeting? Looking for free food?” I give a choking laugh.
Retiring his lounging position, he sits up, resting his elbows on his knees. “If I were a betting man—which I’m not, that would just be a disaster as a casino owner—I’d say you’re lying.”
My heart picks up pace, tension settling into my muscles despite the massaging of the jets. “About what?”
“About being an escort. I don’t think you’re with the agency at all.”
His words make my hand freeze in the air, my wine glass hovering above the water. How does he know? Am I that obviously inexperienced? Or just a really bad liar?
He gives his head a decisive shake. “So you lied. But you’re a big girl, you can make your own decisions.”
My fear morphs into relief. I need the money. I want this night. “Okay, good, because I felt like we were really getting somewhere—”
He holds up a hand to stop me, cutting off my words. “I’m not finished yet.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“We can go forward with the agreement. But I don’t tolerate lying. It’s a transgression that I punish. Harshly.”
My throat suddenly feels tight, my mouth dry. My flight or fight instinct kicks in, hard. Do I hop out of this tub and run, naked as the day I was born, dripping wet, out of this penthouse apartment? Or do I wait and see what he plans on doing with me?
Again... I choose wine.
I take a sip. Swallow it down with my fears. “What do you plan on doing to me?”
“I’m going to take you over my knee and spank you like the naughty little girl that you are. Then, I’m going to make you part your legs for me so I can see how wet I made you.”
He slides back in his seat, reclining again. “But first, I’m going to let you sit there and watch your pretty face while you absorb this information. See how your cheeks flush deeper, and your eyes shine as the water tumbles over your breasts, the jets pulse your body, just knowing what you have coming.”
A ricocheting tremble rips through me at his words, making me visibly shiver. He enjoy
s seeing my reaction, I read it in his gaze.
I take the last little sip of wine. Place my glass on the edge of the hot tub. And wait.
He’s back to having his legs crossed, his hands behind his head. He says, “Tell me, Katie. Have you ever been spanked as a grown woman before?”
“I’ve never been spanked. Ever.”
Hunger flares in his gaze. “It’s a good way to establish boundaries. Enforce rules. And let you know who’s in charge here. And what I will and will not tolerate.”
Why does this turn me on? I’m going with it.
“Okay... sir.”
“Let me tell you what to expect, since you have so little experience. First, I’ll make you lay your naked, wet body over my lap. Then, I’ll spank your pretty ass until your curves are red and hot. Until you’re begging me to stop. And do you know what happens then, Katie?”
“Y-you make me spread my legs?” I can’t believe I got out the words. My face is on fire, and the flames seem to have made their way between my thighs as well. Pressing my legs together, I squirm in my slippery seat. And now for the finale... I take a deep breath, letting the words tumble from my mouth. “So you can see how wet you made me?”
I may not be super experienced between the sheets, but I’m steeped in romance. I’ve read all the books, enough to know the heroines in the books get turned on by being dominated.
Do I?
“Such a good girl. You are a quick learner. We’ll begin now, with your punishment for lying.”
Biting my bottom lip, I give a nod. I don’t know how I’m going to go through with this, how I’m not only going to let him spank me like a little girl, but be an active participant in the process. Yet my breasts feel heavy, aching for his touch, and there's a stirring deep in my core. One that tells me no matter how shameful it will feel to do as he bids, there will be pleasure in the humiliation.
That maybe, I’m still so inexperienced because the right man hadn’t come along yet. The way he talks, the things he wants to do to me, the thrill of this whole crazy experience, has me feeling more alive than I’ve felt in a very long time.
Maybe even ever.
He stands from his seat, striding over to me. He reaches his hand down and I take it. He’s so strong he pulls me up and has me out of the water in one fluid movement.
