His Price

by Leah Holt

  “What? Nothing to say? Come on, babe, finish the dance already, before I get bored.” Palming his erection, he draped his tongue over his teeth.

  I sat in silence for longer than I had realized. “Fuck you,” I hissed through my lips.

  “I can tell you want to, you're just as hot between those thighs as the air in this dump. But you said no touching, remember?”

  He wants to play, huh? I'm going to make him want me so bad it hurts. Then I'll leave him hard and solo.

  Hegan was trying to challenge me; I'd seen it before. The way he slouched in his chair, cock pressing against his zipper, a shit eating grin on his face; he was used to being in charge.

  But I was going to teach him a lesson.

  Not every woman would crumble to his poison.

  Digging my palms into my ribs, I pulled them up to my breasts, squeezing them together, the warmed flesh spilled over the seams. Walking closer to him, I leaned in, his nose inches from my mounds; parting my lips I exhaled across his cheek.

  The heat hit his skin and I watched him shudder. Hegan's movement was subtle, but I caught it. The shock moved from his head to his legs, hips twitching against the seat.

  Slipping my thumbs beneath the silk straps, I peeled them away from my shoulders, his eyes frozen on my body. My large plump breasts spilled from beneath the fabric, bouncing in front of his face, nipples grazing the stubble of his jaw.

  I knew he was getting dragged in, trapped in my web of seduction. It seemed he had forgotten that in this world, I was the master of illusion, the goddess of ecstasy. I was paid to make men imagine their wildest dreams.

  And I was fucking good at it.

  His chest rose quickly with the burst of skin, fingers tightening around the seat; I watched his knuckles drain to white.

  “You like that, don't you?” My eyes rode the muscles of his chest down to his cock. “Yeah, I can see you do. But that measly five dollar bill isn't going to cut it, Sweetheart.” Forcing my tits together, I dragged my tongue over one nipple. “Honestly, you're lucky you even got as much as you did.”

  Hegan flipped three hundred dollar bills out, slipping them in the crease of my breasts. “Happy?”

  He seemed so unfazed, tossing the money like it meant nothing. That was more than most men came in here with. And by the look of it, he had plenty more where that came from.

  What the hell does he do for work? It can't be legal, or he's just trying to play the part like the rest of us in here.

  He looked young, in his twenties. Too young to be carrying that kind of cash. And he certainly wasn't dressed like he was loaded.

  If we did get a guy in here who had a large bank account, you knew it. The limo would be parked outside, they would be dressed in a tailored suit, hair fixed just right to their skull. Those types screamed- “I'm rich and have some extra to play with tonight.”

  That was not Hegan.

  Twisting my back to him, I said, “It'll do for now.” Flashing a quick smile, I bent down. Dragging my nails up the back of my legs, my dress sliding up to show my ass.

  “Well, that's all you're getting. Unless...” Hegan fanned out the money. “You want to take this little party elsewhere?”

  “Didn't I cover that already? I told you I dance, that's it. I'm not a prostitute.” Flipping my hair back, I shot him a glare.

  “Well, you could have fooled me.”

  Huffing loudly, I whipped around. My large heels entangled each other; losing my balance I almost fell to the floor. Hegan jolted forward and his firm arms caught me in the air.

  Wrapped tightly in his grip, my stomach began to twirl; wild fire and battery acid crept up my throat. Dipping my fingertips into his muscles, I felt his rock hard chest.

  The sudden urge to kiss him radiated through my brain. What the hell am I thinking?! Stop! Get a damn grip!

  “Thanks,” I said, pressing against his chest to sit up.

  “I just saved your life, you owe me now.” Hegan smiled a devilish grin, eyes fixing on the exposed bare flesh, hard-on in his pants shoving into my lower back.

  Jumping from his lap, I scrambled to pull my dress up over my chest. “I'm done here.” I snapped at him, storming off. Taking one last look over my shoulder, I saw Hegan sitting with a shit eating grin painted on his face.

  He was a prick. A royal fucking prick, who thought any girl would be lucky to get a piece of him. If he chose to give it.

  How could he just expect that I was going to roll onto my back and let him fuck me?

  I wasn't that kind of girl.

  And I never would be.

  Chapter Two

  Hegan

  I think I found her. The one I'm going to make mine.

  Copper.

  She was a fire cracker, a hot spark burning at the core. Her long red hair, the curls that twisted up to her scalp. I wanted to wrap my fingers inside, tug at the strands till her mouth screamed for me to fuck her.

  She was perfect, exactly what I needed.

  Those plump red lips, shaped so elegantly like a perfect heart, the heat that shot off her tongue with confidence.

  I wonder how they would look draped over my cock? Would her tongue twist and turn as tightly as her curls? Would she let me pull her hair till her neck couldn't bend anymore? That's all I wanted to do, and it took all I had to not try then and there.

  My cock stiffened just imagining her ass again. The way she bent over, touching her toes with ease. She was flexible and I wanted to wrap those legs up around her ears, slam my dick deep into her pussy till she was numb all over.

  Copper was going to help keep my world running; she had to.

  I wasn't giving her a choice. If she didn't do what I needed her to, I would lose everything.

  And I wasn't about to do that.

  I won't do that.

  Closing the door to my silver Porsche, I revved the engine. Turning out of Tigress, I made my way down Thames street. The road was lifeless, no other cars were in sight. Hopping onto Route four, I pushed the engine hard, my heel hitting the floor, speed climbing with each shift of the throttle.

  The pounding of my chest matched the hand rising on the dial; fifty, sixty, seventy miles an hour, and still going. Every breath was filled with excitement and cold oxygen as it purged through my body, turning my veins to ice.

  I loved driving fast. The feel of the air in my face and the power under the hood; it was the next best thing to a good fuck. I guess you could say I chased the rush, and it'd been that rush I kept grabbing for.

  That feeling, the moment your veins harden and you think they might just pop beneath the surface. I couldn't get enough.

  I had my fair share of issues with street racing and the cops. But, when you're a twenty-five year old guy and son of a billionaire, people know who you are. Which helped multiple times to get me out of a shitty situation. It only took that one phone call— my dad had the best lawyers— I never spent more than an hour in the holding cell.

  And as far as a record goes, that didn't exist either. Money talks and my family had plenty of it.

  It also helped that my dad wouldn't stand to have our name corrupted or tainted with any rash decisions I made. It would look bad for the company, and especially bad on him.

  A man with his power should have a son that bears the same respect and reserve that he does. The problem was...

  I didn't and I never would.

  I wasn't a suit wearing jackass, who spent more time in the office than enjoying life's pleasures. What kind of life would that be?

  All desk and paperwork with no pussy? No thank you.

  My father loathed who I was and what he thought I'd become, I was pretty much sure of that now. After the news he'd given me, it was cemented in my head.

  He hated me.

  Which is probably why he had dropped a fucking bomb on me a few months back, also on my fucking birthday. “Hegan, it's time you start thinking about your future. Your legacy.” My father's words had sent chills across my s
pine.

  I was an only child, an only child who was going to inherit a shit load of fucking money. Enough to last me three lifetimes.

  Legacy? I wasn't sure what he was getting at, but he didn't sugar coat it much more than that. He swirled his wine, inhaling the aroma, a gentle sip spilled into his mouth.

  My father had gone on to say, “You need to do something with yourself. You can't spend life just walking around on air. I didn't work this hard for you to eat up everything I made. I want a grandchild, Hegan. And if you don't have an heir for me, you're cut from it all. You will get nothing further from me. Nothing.”

  Happy birthday to me, right? A fucking kid!

  He expected me to have a kid!

  That was something I'd never thought of. I eat pussy like it's a buffet for one; I loved women, all women. And he wanted me to give him a grandchild!

  I couldn't believe he had the balls to ask me for that.

  At first I'd thought he was joking. A guttural laugh exploded from my throat; my head had fallen back; a hand came down and slapped against my thigh. He can't be serious! I thought.

  It wasn't until he showed me the legal papers from his lawyer, the papers that had me locked out from everything if I didn't produce a child soon; that's when I knew he was serious. This hadn't been a sick joke, or a wild ruse to get me to find a job.

  He was sitting stone still, eyes firm as concrete, lips thin as a single sheet of paper.

  And my mother, she stared at the floor, breathing in imaginary gasps of water. Her throat gurgled with each swallow, fingers trembling in her lap.

  My jaw had dropped, heart racing with disbelief. How could he do this to me? How could he place this weight on my shoulders?

  The papers made it clear. I was to give an heir to the family. If I didn't then my piece of the company would become owned by his lawyer, his best friend. His dick of a lawyer, Gerald, would be in charge of everything that was meant for me. And I would be left picking up scraps and with no more access to the funds.

  It was wrong! An unfair request- no, demand- of your own son, the only son.

  I remembered the blood in my veins turning rancid, the wave of electricity rocking my core. Yelling at him from across the table, I called him an asshole, a piece of shit who decided to throw this on me before I was ready.

  He didn't have the right to force me to give him an heir. It was insane!

  Throwing my hands up, I'd jolted from the seat, the chair crashing to the floor. Every eye in the restaurant had turned on us. That was the only time my mother spoke; she pleaded for me to relax, and told me I was making a scene.

  A scene. I had just been told I was supposed to have a child or lose everything. What the fuck did she think I was going to do? Take it with a smile and a nod?

  My father had always wanted me to be a spitting image of him, but I wasn't. He expected me to go to college, become a partner, and eventually take over the company. Those were the dreams he had for me, but did he ever ask me once what I wanted?

  No.

  Not at any point did he ever take the time to see what I wanted to do with my life. He never asked me what I loved to do or even noticed how much I enjoyed racing.

  I tried to show him, asked him to go to the races and up to the drag strip in New Hampshire. He always just huffed about how it was nonsense, a brainless activity a monkey could do.

  I didn't want to be tied down; I wasn't made for that.

  How could he do this to me? To his own flesh and blood?

  There were millions of women in this world. How the hell was I supposed to choose just one?

  I wanted to taste them all, every last one I could slam my dick into.

  After he threw that on me I stormed out of the restaurant, and I didn't go home for two days. A part of me had been afraid that if I saw him before I cooled down I would do something I might regret. The rest of me just wanted to indulge myself in pussy, a lot of pussy.

  I wasn't sure how much longer I'd have that freedom, before it got ripped out from under me. Studying the papers, I read them over and over. They had the date he expected an heir by, but he'd forgotten something.

  Something very important... The girl.

  That's when I realized the answer was dangling in front of my face. I was the son of a billionaire; I hadn't had any trouble finding a girl yet; what difference would this make?

  Getting what I wanted, that came easy to me.

  I was sure I could find a woman to buy, keep her for myself till she gave me a child. I could pay any amount of money for the woman of my choice; I wasn't cut off just yet.

  I started scouting local bars, strip clubs, any place I thought I could find the right woman who would fit the bill. She needed to be willing to do anything for cash. Those women were a dime a dozen; I didn't think it would be that hard.

  But, Copper... She had caught my eye.

  Her perfect tits screamed for me to suck them when she fell in my lap; I had come close to driving my lips down hard. They were perked up and inviting, ready for my teeth to nibble, for my fingers to pinch.

  I did find one thing strange; she had panties on. Not many strippers hid their cunts from paying eyes. At least none of the ones I'd ever been around. But she was covered up the best she could.

  The thin fabric, tucked between her ass cheeks, tightly molding around her wet pussy, trying to hide the hot cunt beneath. I was tempted to flick her thong to the side, trail my finger up the center. But she wasn't ready for that.

  Not yet anyway.

  Copper had tried to keep herself calm, but she couldn't fool me. Her dampened panties against my thigh told me I had turned her on. Even in the darkness of the club, the small wet spot in the center of the cloth caught my eye, shining as brightly as if I was holding a spotlight.

  I was surprised at how much she teased my cock without a touch of her skin. The instant those long legs spread over my lap, my dick jumped and my heart beat in my throat.

  She was the complete opposite of what I thought I needed, and that just pulled on me stronger. She wasn't easy by any means. I didn't know how many women I had been through in my search, but all of them were willing to give themselves to me before I had time to blink.

  Not her though.

  Money didn't swoon her; she went unfazed by the wad of cash I pulled out. It wasn't until my cock pressed into her back that I saw the excitement in her rocket into a fear.

  I wanted her to grab it, squeeze it between her slender fingers. Instead, she left me sitting with a full hard-on and surprise in her eyes.

  Copper was going to be a challenge and I fucking loved a good challenge.

  But in the end, I always got what I wanted.

  I was positive I had found the woman who would give me a child. A child to keep my bank open, and my name in the family.

  Pulling up to the large wrought iron gate, I typed in the code, and the massive metal swung open to let me in. As I drove up the long driveway, our mansion came into view. Each window was lit with a small candle; Christmas wreaths centered each blank space of brick.

  Merry fucking Christmas, Hegan. You found what you're looking for. Chuckling to myself I parked the car out front. Climbing the marble steps, I noticed the smooth surface was slicked over by a thin layer of ice. Carefully, I made my way to the door, trying not to slip.

  The butler, Stefan, opened the door to my arrival. “Good evening, Sir,” he said.

  “Hello, Stefan,” I said, cracking a wide smile. He glared at me, his brows dipping into his nose. I had to say his name with an accent. He always shot me a sideways glance, but I couldn't help myself. The man was so fucking uptight.

  Stefan had been our butler for a little over two years now. And do you think I've ever seen him chuckle? Nope. He always stood still as a fucking stump, back straight, head held high.

  “Late night again, Sir?” he asked, arching an accusatory brow.

  “Yup, sure was. See you tomorrow afternoon, Stefan.” Flicking his tie, I tugged my
shoulders back as I smiled and made my way up to my room.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I watched him adjust his uniform. Stefan didn't care for me much, from what I could tell. Maybe I busted his balls a bit more than I should, but the guy was so dull. He followed my dad around like a lost puppy, ready and waiting to feed him lines of agreement with anything he said.

  I tried relentlessly to get any type of rise out of him. From his first day here, he just looked at me like I was below him. His beady little eyes, and lines that ran across his forehead would stay flat. Stefan had the personality of a fucking paper bag, stiff and bland.

  I bet if I ever became his boss, he'd probably quit. I understood he was at work and took his job seriously, but come on... He never even cracked the slightest smile.

  I didn't even think he knew how.

  He's not human.

  Over the years, we had multiple butlers and maids. These people were paid to be here, to bend over backwards for all my family's requests. Life had been boring, you never did anything without the watchful eye of some stranger.

  I was used to it now, but I hated every second of it.

  Flopping down face first onto my king sized bed, I felt the massive wall of pillows crashing onto my back. Grumbling under my breath, I knocked them to the floor.

  I never understood the meaning of decorative pillows, and no matter how much I complained, the maids constantly stacked them up elbows deep.

  It was ridiculous, all for show and no function.

  I mean honestly, what purpose did they serve?

  One time I'd tried to protest them. I was twelve and tore the pillows to shreds, the feathers flew around filling the room. It was one hell of a mess for the maids to clean up, they pulled them from the vents for weeks after. I was sure the pillows would have disappeared after that, and did they?

  Nope. The very next day my bed was riddled with twice as many. I can say for sure I hate pillows with a passion.

  I know it seems like a bizarre item to despise, but when your life has been filled with little options for you to choose, pillows are a big deal.

  As I sank into the mattress, Copper sat like a hefty meal in my gut. Her skin was a cream I wanted to drink, her legs looked endless, and I wanted them wrapped firmly around me.