Yours for the Night

by Jasmine Haynes

  Then he leaned down and tied her shoelace. “It seems we skipped the first date where you don’t actually fuck. Why don’t we go back there and get to know each other?”

  It was a slam. A rejection. Wasn’t it? Yet he’d called Isabel, left Dominique herself a message, and pushed another meeting. He had to want something from her. Just as she wanted it on her terms, perhaps so did he. Wouldn’t it be fun to see who won?

  SHE HAD GREAT CALVES IN HER THREE-QUARTER-LENGTH TIGHTS. Great calves, a great ass, and she was walking the pants off him. Figuratively speaking. Gabriel had an interesting time keeping up with the woman, literally and figuratively. Not that he’d let her know it was even the slightest exertion. His breathing remained even, and he hadn’t broken a sweat yet. But she tested his limits in so many ways.

  “It’s only another mile,” she said ahead of him. He’d never paid for sex, but if the right moment arose, he had no compunction or moral against it. But he’d had her without the money, and now he was loath to reduce what happened between them to a transaction. He wanted Dominique to give herself freely the way she had in the limo. He’d kissed her in the mud to prove they weren’t all business. She’d have let him do her right there on the path, he knew it.

  He wanted her on the edge, willing to give in, wanting him as badly as he wanted her. Screw the gift, screw the monetary “appreciation.”

  In truth, he hadn’t been completely hooked when he’d followed her out of the hotel lobby. Interested, yes, but not hooked. Then she’d done him in the car. Watching his cock slide deep inside her, that was the hook. He wanted more of her. He just didn’t want it to be a mere business deal.

  “I’m thinking Palm Springs,” he mused.

  The slightest hitch marred her firm step. “For a date?”

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  “Yes. I thought we’d fly down on Saturday, maybe take the tram up to the top of the mountain, have dinner, spend the night at one of the resorts, and come back on Sunday.”

  She tossed the answer over her shoulder without even looking at him. “That’s a weekend, not a date.”

  “It’s a date if we have separate rooms.”

  “It’s more than twenty-four hours. What if we get sick of each other?”

  “Haven’t you ever gone on a weekend trip for one of your regular dates?” He assumed men would pay for something like that, the pleasure of a good-looking woman’s company for more than a night. And some hot sex as well. She stopped, half turning, a hand on her hip and one foot balanced higher on the path. “Actually, I haven’t.” Her lips curved. “It could be fun.”

  He liked the idea of being first in something with her. “Next weekend.”

  “That sounds fine.”

  “Don’t you have to look at your schedule or check in with Isabel?”

  “Most men aren’t like you. My dates are usually more last-minute.”

  “I’ll make the reservations then.”

  And he would plan her seduction. At some point during the weekend, she’d be begging him to do her in every position imaginable. 148

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  6

  IT WOULDN’T TAKE GABRIEL TWENTY-FOUR HOURS TO BREAK DOWN and beg her to stuff his money in her purse so he could have her. How long? After dinner? When they settled into their hotel rooms? On the plane?

  God, she was such a conniving bitch. And she loved it, because she would make it worth every penny Gabriel paid.

  “Truly, Dominique, I was beastly, and I need you to forgive me. Please.” On the other end of the cell phone, Trevor didn’t exactly whine, but close. Concentrate. Since her early afternoon walk with Gabriel, he was the only thing on her mind. She’d been sitting on the sun-porch with her tea in her hand thinking about him, which was delicious and frightening all at the same time. Maybe that was the reason she’d agreed to talk to Trevor when Isabel called this afternoon, again claiming he was contrite; consumed by Gabriel, she hadn’t been listening properly. Now she was stuck on the phone with Trevor. If she didn’t concentrate, she might agree to something she didn’t want or need.

  “I appreciate the apology, Trevor. Let’s forget the whole episode.”

  “But I’d like to see you again.”

  “Thank you, but no.” One should always be polite.

  “Please. I realize the price will go up, but I’m willing to pay whatever it takes.”

  Some men couldn’t take no for an answer, and they didn’t know how to handle rejection. As soon as she told him she wouldn’t take his money, Trevor had to have her. She wasn’t even sure he wanted her. She was in many ways like the women he trashed—older, with abundant curves. She liked herself exactly the way she was; in fact, she’d worked out for months to get this body.

  “Trevor, I—”

  He cut her off before she could say no yet again. “I’ll do anything you want. You name it.”

  What’s up with that? His desperation was almost . . . sad. But he’d already shown his true nature. Besides, she had her date with Gabriel. They’d be flying out Saturday morning. He was so much more a man than Trevor McDowell ever could be. She didn’t need another—

  Good God. The thought brought her up short. Some courtesans went 149

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  exclusive. They had one man, put themselves at his beck and call. She would never do that. She had her favorites, of course, but she never used the word need.

  “Trevor, I’m thinking.” Friday night with Trevor would put her weekend date with Gabriel in perspective. It was just a date. Gabriel was just a man. And he would pay like any other.

  “Please, Dominique, tell me how to make it up to you.”

  Again, Trevor gave off the scent of desperation, even over the phone. She had a thought. A brilliant thought. Actually, it was Machiavellian. She’d gotten that odd vibe when Trevor commented on the men. What if . . . “There is something I’ve always wanted to experience but haven’t found the right man for.”

  “Yes, yes, tell me more.” He jumped on her suggestion like an eager little puppy.

  He’d either hang up in outrage—with which she’d be fine—or he’d agree because he had a secret hankering he couldn’t admit to. Unless he was forced.

  “I’ve always wanted to watch two men together,” she purred. Silence. She sat in the sunroom of her hilltop Saratoga home—the one Edward agreed to give her in the divorce because she’d been ever so reasonable about everything else—and let the afternoon sun warm her. Curled up on the rattan sofa cushions wearing a pair of comfy velour sweats, she sipped her green tea, a slice of lemon giving it that needed kick. Trevor wasn’t gone. Even with her earpiece in, she detected his breathing.

  “Earth to Trevor,” she singsonged, as if she hadn’t just suggested the most outrageous thing.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  Hmm. He hadn’t said no. “That’s what I want, Trevor.”

  “But—”

  “It’s all right to say no. I’ll understand perfectly if it offends your sensibilities. Why don’t we make it a little easier on you? Instead of full-on sex with a man”—

  she paused long enough for him to get the image in his mind—“how about we just go for jerking off?” She stopped, thinking, imagining. “You stroke his cock, then he strokes yours. Then you two have a nice mutual orgasm.”

  The more she thought about it, the more she saw this as Trevor’s chance of a lifetime. If he was so inclined, he got approval and acceptance without having to 150

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  admit it was something he’d wanted, perhaps even dreamed about. If she’d misread his strange comments, all he had to do was say no.

  “We’ll do it Friday.” Because then she’d be planning her date with Trevor instead of mooning over a weekend with Gabriel. His silence was shorter. “Who would we do this with?”

  Oh my. Oh Lord. He was going to say yes. “Isabel will find someone appropriate.” Someone like Gabriel. She couldn’t help the comparison. But it was only abou
t appearance; she didn’t want to see Gabriel with Trevor. “I’m leaning toward fortyish, good-looking, fit.”

  “I’m nervous.” His voice actually trembled, as if he were driving over a very bumpy road.

  “You can say no at any time. Even once we meet him. Even once you take your clothes off.”

  “I have to take my clothes off?” His tone rose. Dominique sighed. “Yes. You both have to be naked. This is not some quickie in the backseat of an old car.”

  His breath sounded like a hum over the cell phone line, one long ahhhh of sound.

  Was she trying to teach him a lesson, fulfill a fantasy, or just being a plain old bitch? She opened her mouth to tell him to forget it, that she realized she’d gone overboard.

  He spoke first. “All right. But I’m a newbie at this.”

  She took air in two gulps. He’d agreed. She’d committed herself. “I won’t push you to do more than you want,” she said, reassuring him as if he were a virgin. Maybe she needed reassurance, too.

  “And make sure he’s not some ugly old dude.”

  She ignored the age slam. “You should know I would never do that to us, Trevor.” Us. Making it about them, not just him. “I’ll call you with the time and place, darling. Toodles.”

  She hung up, then held the phone to her chest a long moment. She’d never been so adventurous. She’d never even thought about two men. But now, the slightest tingle shimmied through her body. It could be good. She’d make it good. Because she didn’t want anyone—not even her own conscience—coming back later saying she’d only done it as payback, taking out her anger with Edward on Trevor McDowell.

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  And she didn’t want to contemplate that she’d made the date in the first place because she needed to get Gabriel Price out of her mind.

  ISABEL BOUGHT INTO HER PLANS FOR TREVOR. “I TRUST YOUR judgment”

  was what she’d said, but Dominique feared her own personal feelings were out of control. She’d jumped into this date with Trevor because she didn’t like how much she anticipated seeing Gabriel. Then she’d come up with a truly Machiavellian solution. Certainly her emotions played a huge role in the men with whom she chose to have sex. Why else would she have this need to be the highest paid, the most sought after—all to prove Edward had made the worst mistake of his life. She’d never before been quite so manipulative, though. Yet when she told Isabel what she wanted for Trevor, her friend didn’t offer so much as a word of caution. In fact, Isabel found the perfect partner almost right away. So here she was, Friday night, meeting Isabel’s choice in the bar of a downtown San Jose luxury hotel, near the arena. Ten minutes to go before Trevor was scheduled to call with the room number. She half expected him to back out, but Trevor would view it as losing, and he’d already lost once when she walked out on him at last week’s benefit.

  The soft strains of musical standards masked the quiet conversations around her. The bar was refined, the drinks costly, the orchid in the center of the table real and well cared for. Flickering candles augmented the low lighting. Dominique sipped her expensive chardonnay and set her glass back on the table as Simon Foster slid into the booth beside her.

  “You must be Dominique.”

  She’d arranged with the hostess to send Simon her way when he arrived.

  “And you’re everything I expected.”

  The man was incredibly hot. She liked older men, not because she was older but because they were seasoned, a few lines, a knowing glint. Simon Foster had it all. With George Clooney looks, his silver hair was shot through with the remains of dark brown. Eyes the gray of a fox, he perused her up and down the way she did him. She looked good in a long-sleeved teal T-shirt dress. It wasn’t fancy, but the material hugged her curves and made her feel sexy. Beneath it she wore a bra and minuscule panties. She liked the glimmer of appreciation in his gaze. He dressed up exceedingly well in a navy suit and white shirt. He’d dress down to nakedness just as beautifully, she was sure. She judged him to be 152

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  close to fifty, but he’d taken good care of his years. At six feet, he was bulked up from working out, like an ex-football player who hadn’t allowed himself to go to seed. His hands were big, his shoulders wide. He would dominate Trevor, but she figured that was good for the boy.

  She could enjoy watching the two of them from a purely artistic perspective.

  “Isabel told you what we were looking for?” Dominique trusted Isabel implicitly, but still, she needed to confirm that he understood the story.

  “Experimentation appeals to me. I’ve never done this, but the idea of a woman watching takes the nervous edge off the experience.” Then he smiled, the creases at his eyes testifying to the fact that he smiled a lot. She didn’t, however, believe he’d ever be nervous about anything. He had that strong jaw and solid strength to his shoulders that said he’d never be unsure of anything he did. Like Gabriel.

  Drat the man for being on the edge of her thoughts even now.

  “I’m an exhibitionist,” Simon was saying, “and the idea of such a gorgeous woman watching me”—he shrugged expressively— “I’ve had some of my most powerful orgasms in ages just thinking about it.”

  “It doesn’t bother you that I want to watch you with a man?” He was surprisingly masculine, considering what he’d volunteered for. Again he shrugged, following it up with a half smile. “Sex is sex. The hottest part of it is fulfilling a woman’s fantasy, giving her what she wants.” He tipped his head. “I’ll want you to masturbate for us.”

  Though his words, his desires, dampened her panties, she had no intention of exposing herself to him. This was about Trevor, not her. But she was glad Isabel had found a man who wasn’t afraid of his own sexuality. “Masturbation isn’t part of the scenario.”

  He leaned in. “You’re going to feel so fucking hot you’ll have to do it for us.”

  His knowing words and heated tone jerked her back to that night in Gabriel’s limousine and how badly she’d needed his cock. If he’d demanded that she masturbate for him first, she’d have lifted her skirt in a second. It was her emotions, it was him, but it was also the naughtiness of opening herself to a stranger. Just as part of the allure of being a courtesan was getting money for sex. It was taboo and therefore so damn hot. The thought gave her an insight into Simon Foster. “Is that what appeals to you about my request?” she asked as if he could follow her thought processes. “I mean, the forbidden nature of two 153

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  heterosexual men having those kinds of fantasies?”

  His lips curved, then the smile rose to his eyes. “I didn’t think a woman would understand. It’s the idea of doing something you’re not supposed to do, like fucking a woman on the dance floor in a crush of people, or fingering her to an orgasm under the tablecloth in a fancy restaurant.” He blinked slowly. “Or stroking another man’s cock and making him come because a woman asked you to do it.”

  She shuddered deliciously with the vision of Gabriel touching her the way Simon had described. She enjoyed sex, but she’d remained vanilla about it. Isabel sent her men that suited her in that way. Some people, however, needed kinkier, riskier things to excite them. She wondered about the things Gabriel would need to excite him. He was a sensual man. He wouldn’t be satisfied with nothing more than a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am in the backseat. Dammit, why did she keep letting him intrude when she was conducting business here? The whole point of this exercise with Trevor had been to exorcise thoughts of Gabriel, and here she was allowing him in over and over again. The frightening thought occurred—and not for the first time—that what was happening between her and Gabriel had nothing to do with business. Her cell rang before she could work herself into a tizzy about what Gabriel would or wouldn’t want and whether she would win or lose.

  “Excuse me a moment, that should be our boy.” Then she paid attention to the phone. “Trevor.”

  “Room fourteen-oh-one.” His voice rose slightly o
n the last number.

  “Good boy, Trevor. We’ll be right up.”

  Hanging up, she sidled out of the booth, then held out her hand to her partner in crime.

  She’d worry about besting Gabriel when she saw him tomorrow.

  FOR A MAN WHO’D NEVER GIVEN IT A HELL OF A LOT OF THOUGHT before, Gabriel had to admit he’d planned the date perfectly. Women liked romance, and he’d give her all she could handle. By the time he got her back to their suite, she would beg him to climb into her bed.

  He had to laugh at himself. There was an equal chance he’d give her the envelope of cash he’d stuffed in his computer case. Just the fact he’d withdrawn the money this afternoon was telling.

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  He wanted Dominique, and he meant to have her on his terms. But just in case . . .

  Standing in front of the picture window of his Atherton home, Gabriel downed the last of his brandy before retiring. The moon was bright, reflecting in the pool he rarely used. It was there for business entertaining. He had to acknowledge what rumbled in his belly. Dominique slept with other men. A lot of other men. She had a date tonight. When he’d suggested an early flight down to Palm Springs, she’d made him push out the time. She needed her beauty rest, she claimed. In his opinion, she had all the beauty he could handle. He also guessed the real reason she’d wanted a later flight. She’d be fucking a client tonight. Doing what she’d done with Gabriel. And probably a hell of a lot more. Sucking him, letting him fuck her from behind, any way he wanted, every way he wanted. Because he was paying for it.

  And Gabriel was jealous as hell.

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  7

  TREVOR LEFT THE DOOR UNLATCHED, AND HE LOUNGED NAKED ON the bed as they entered. Propped against the headboard, he was the picture of relaxed except for the quake of his hand as he set his wine on the bedside table.

  “Trevor, this is Simon.”

  Simon simply gave him what Dominique had come to think of as his signature smile. Trevor lifted his chin in acknowledgment. But his gaze dropped to the front of Simon’s slacks, and his cock hardened. His LMD—little man’s disease—didn’t include his cock. Trevor was actually quite impressive. And growing.