by Tina Folsom
“Are you sure?”
Was he? With other women, he would be happy if they left his bed without his having to make any excuses, but for some unknown reason he wanted Holly to stay. Because he wanted to wake up with her.
And that was something rather unusual for him.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Paul captured her lips and kissed her. And just as soon as his cock was up for it again, he would make love to her again. Only this time, he’d be looking into her eyes when they both climaxed.
6
Paul felt a ray of sun on his face and blinked his eyes open. The curtains were only half drawn and let in the morning sun. He was trying to turn away from it when he became aware of the warm female body partially draped over him.
With a smile he let his gaze wander over her. One of Holly’s legs lay across his thighs while her arm rested on his stomach. Her head lay on a pillow she had put over his bicep and despite the fact that his arm was somewhat numb from the weight on it, he didn’t have the heart to pull his arm from underneath her and possibly wake her.
She looked too peaceful to disturb. And something else: She looked well loved. Half the night he’d done just that—made love to her until his body had given out.
Paul closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He’d never felt this satisfied after a night with a woman. Certainly, he’d had more than his fair share of sexual encounters and erotic adventures, but never a night like the previous one. Never had a woman given herself so freely to him and responded to each and every one of his whims with such abandon. Holly was a wild one, but he’d been just as untamed. Maybe her words were true after all: like attracted like.
In any case, he was glad she’d stayed the night, because he didn’t want to let her go yet. He needed more.
Paul ran his hand over her thigh, caressing her warm skin and sliding his palms to her backside. Holly stirred, but didn’t wake. Clearly, he’d exhausted her last night. Maybe he should make it up to her.
He slipped his hand down her crack and dove between her thighs. When his fingers stroked against her sex, he realized that she was still damp. The thought that she might be dreaming of their lovemaking excited him and he rubbed along her female folds more firmly. A trickle of moisture dripped onto his fingers, and he spread it.
Holly’s breathing changed, and her leg shifted to give him better access. He didn’t need to be told twice and slid his finger up to her clit, caressing the responsive bundle of flesh.
“Mmm,” she hummed.
“Good morning, baby,” he greeted her, and drove his middle finger into her wet channel.
“Paul.” She drew the word out on a long sigh.
“Like that, hmm?” He gently pumped into her, then pulled his finger from her and concentrated his attention on her clit.
Her hand on his stomach tightened its grip, her fingernails digging into his abs. But she didn’t seem to notice it, and he wasn’t going to tell her and distract her. Because by now he could interpret the signs of her body well enough to know she was close to another orgasm. In fact, the more often he’d made her come, the faster and more violently she’d climaxed.
“Baby, you’re so slick. I love touching you.”
And strangely enough, he didn’t even want anything in return. Seeing Holly in ecstasy was reward enough.
“Don’t stop,” she whimpered, while she rubbed her pussy against his hand for more friction.
“I wouldn’t dare.”
He doubled his efforts and pinched her clit, rolling it between thumb and forefinger. When a loud moan came from Holly, he did it again. A moment later, she shuddered in his arms.
A broad smile spread over his face as he pulled her onto his body and hugged her close.
“Do you wake up all your women like this?” she asked sleepily.
“Only you.”
“Liar,” she replied.
“It’s the truth.” Not that he didn’t like to engage in morning sex, but in most cases the women had already left by that time. Few stayed the night, because he didn’t want them to stay. “Did you sleep well?”
She lifted her head and smiled at him. “The little time I did, yes.”
Paul chuckled. “Would you have preferred that I let you sleep more instead of engaging in . . . other activities?”
Holly shook her blond locks, tickling his chest with it. “You know the answer to that. You wouldn’t by chance be fishing for compliments, would you?”
“I don’t need to. Seeing you climax is compliment enough.”
For a moment she looked at him without saying anything. Then her lips parted. “Thank you. I had a wonderful night.” She lifted herself off him.
Reluctantly, he released her. But he had no intention of letting her go. “There’s a place nearby that serves a great brunch right at the beach. What do you say? May I take you there?”
She sat up and turned to look back at him. “You want to go for brunch?”
“Yes. Aren’t you hungry?”
“I guess I am. Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”
Paul pointed to the door of the ensuite bathroom. “Be my guest.”
She got out of bed, giving him a splendid view of her bare ass.
“And after brunch, we’re coming back here,” he added.
Holly stopped in her tracks and looked over her shoulder. “Haven’t you had enough yet?”
Pointedly, he ran his eyes over her naked body, wanting to make her aware of how much he desired her. “I doubt I can ever get enough of you, Holly. Now go take a shower before I change my mind about brunch and drag you back into bed immediately.”
With a soft laugh, Holly disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Moments later he heard the shower come on.
Paul dropped his head back into the pillow and stared at the ceiling. Had he really just said that to her? That he didn’t think he could get enough of her? He’d never been this demonstrative with his feelings, preferring to keep them close to his vest.
Feelings? Fuck, he couldn’t have feelings—it was lust that was driving him. Pure lust. It couldn’t be anything else.
And just to prove that sexual desire was all that was involved here, he would follow her into the shower and fuck her in there, instead of playing the sweet, lovesick fool who pleasured her but didn’t take his own pleasure in return.
Paul swung his feet to the floor when he heard the annoying pinging sound of a cell phone. He’d never bothered to change the default ringtone that announced a text message. Bending down, he reached for his phone and looked at the display.
Don’t think you can just abandon the agency! One of your regulars has requested you for a booking this weekend. If you don’t show up here and spend Saturday night with him, you’re gonna be in trouble.
The words made no sense. What booking? What client? He couldn’t recall having an appointment the following weekend. Scratching his head, Paul glanced at the sender’s name. Misty, it said, before the screen went black again.
He knew nobody by the name of Misty.
Impatient, he swiped over the screen and entered his four-digit password, but the phone didn’t unlock. Instead, it buzzed and vibrated, prompting him to reenter his password.
That’s when he realized it: This was Holly’s phone, not his.
Paul set it on the nightstand, but as much as he tried to, he couldn’t forget the message. What client? What booking? What agency?
Maybe if there hadn’t been a scandal about Sabrina, Daniel’s wife, being wrongly accused of being a call girl, his mind wouldn’t even go in that direction, but with things being as they were, he couldn’t help but connect the words of the text message and let his imagination wander.
He’d never asked Holly what she did for a living. Nor had David or Sabrina ever mentioned it in passing. What kind of agency did Holly work for? An agency who booked clients on the weekend. At night. No, not just that, but overnight. The message had clearly said that Holly had to spend the night with a cl
ient. A male client.
Fuck! Did this mean what he thought it meant? Was it possible, or was his imagination taking him on a wild ride?
He ran a hand through his hair and noticed he was trembling. Shit! There was only one way to interpret this message: Holly was a call girl. A prostitute. A hooker.
“No,” he murmured to himself. It couldn’t be true. This couldn’t be happening to him.
Had he just spent the most amazing night of his life with a prostitute?
Had he gone down on a hooker and licked and sucked her as if there were no tomorrow? Pleasured her and worshipped her as if she were a goddess?
The door to the bathroom opened, pulling him from his thoughts. His head whirled in its direction, and he watched Holly step out, a towel wrapped around her torso, covering her body from the top of her breasts to the top of her thighs. If she turned and bent down, he would be able to see her ass.
“All done,” she said with a smile. “You were right. I’m famished right now.”
Suddenly, the cell phone pinged once more—a second reminder that there was a text message waiting. His phone had the same feature.
He pointed to it, avoiding her eyes. “It’s yours.”
Holly walked to the bedside table and reached for her phone.
Paul looked away. “I read the message. I thought it was my phone.” He pointed to his, which still lay in the pile of clothes on the floor.
He could hear her breath hitch. It was all the confirmation he needed. Still, he didn’t want to accept it. Maybe there was a reasonable explanation. “What are you, Holly?” He looked up and met her gaze.
She swallowed hard, clearly looking for an answer to satisfy his curiosity.
He motioned to the phone. “The agency. Is it what I think it is?”
Holly didn’t answer, but the hand holding her phone started to tremble.
“Oh God, when were you gonna tell me?” He shot up from the bed, unconcerned about his nudity. “What the fuck, Holly? Were you gonna present me with a bill this morning for all the services you provided last night? Is that what you were gonna do?” He lashed an angry glare at her. How could she have done this to him?
Shock pulsed through her. But rage wasn’t far behind. How dared he accuse her of turning their night into something cheap?
“I’m on vacation!” Holly yelled, louder than she’d intended to.
“So that makes it all right for you to lie to me, does it?” he growled.
“I never lied to you about what I do.”
He took a step toward her, his eyes narrowing. She could see the fury blazing in his eyes. “That’s splitting hairs! You didn’t tell me the truth about what you are!” He rubbed his hand over his face. “Fuck, I slept with a prostitute.”
Holly gripped the towel covering her body tighter, hoping he couldn’t see the way she was starting to shake with both shame and anger. Shame because of what she’d been, and anger because he’d accused her of wanting to charge him for their night of passion. With one sentence, he’d turned their erotic encounter into something dirty and disgusting.
That hurt most. So much, in fact, that she could only do one thing: protect herself by pushing him as far away as possible. He thought her to be a prostitute, so that’s what she was. The fact that she’d quit wouldn’t change that, not in Paul’s eyes. So she didn’t even bother telling him. Instead, she went on the offensive.
“Yes, and you liked it! So get off your high horse! Last night wasn’t about what I do for a living. Last night I was on vacation. Even an escort gets to take a vacation and do what she wants to do during that time. And if that means I’m going to have a one-night stand with some guy, then who’s to stop me?”
“You used me!”
Holly let out a bitter laugh. “Used you? If I remember correctly, you were the one who rode me like a stallion on steroids. You took what I offered. If it hadn’t been me, it would have been somebody else. So don’t make it sound like I tricked you. I made no promises, and neither did you.”
Paul clenched his teeth, his eyes spewing venom now. “I . . . I went down on you! I pleasured you not knowing—”
“—that I’m a whore?” She lashed the word at him, preferring to say it herself rather than hear it come from his lips. “Does that mean I don’t deserve any pleasure? Is that what you’re saying? That I’m so low that I don’t deserve any of this? That I don’t deserve love?”
Inside, her heart ached at the realization that nothing would ever change. Even though she’d quit the business, as soon as a man found out what she’d done in the past, he would judge her for it. Just as Paul judged her now.
Paul stared at her, lips pressed together, hands clenched at his sides.
“You really think this is the first time you slept with a prostitute? Wake up!”
He huffed angrily. “I never—”
“You really think that any woman you’ve slept with is less of a whore than I am? They’re not any different, they just don’t take credit cards. But trust me, you pay for it nonetheless, or do you really think they only sleep with you because of your good looks?”
His face turned red.
“They sleep with you because of your money.”
Though this had not been her motivation—she had slept with him because she’d felt drawn to him. She’d seen something in Paul. She’d felt something. Maybe in the end, it had only been lust and had meant nothing at all.
Holly turned and pulled her dress and her shoes from the pile of clothes. “And don’t worry, last night was a freebie.”
“Get out of my house!” he yelled.
“With pleasure!” she screamed back, fished for her handbag, and marched toward the bedroom door.
The sound when she slammed it behind her was the best thing she’d heard in the last five minutes.
In the corridor, Holly dropped the towel, squeezed herself into her dress, and zipped it up as best she could. Too late she realized that she’d left her panties behind. But she wouldn’t go back now. Barefoot, she hurried downstairs and ran out of the house.
Only when she reached the beach and was out of sight of the house did she allow her tears to come. She collapsed into the sand and buried her face in her hands. The morning breeze blew through her still-wet hair and made her shiver.
“Why?” she whispered.
She’d never felt lower in her life. The disgust in Paul’s eyes when he realized that he’d pleasured a prostitute had hurt the most. Did he really believe that a woman like her didn’t deserve a little bit of happiness?
Was this what her future looked like?
She was an outcast, a woman no decent man wanted, despite the fact that she was trying to turn her life around and walk the straight and narrow. Her dreams of a husband and kids were unattainable. She realized that now. She’d gambled her future and lost.
Holly cast a last look back in the direction of the house where she’d spent the most amazing night of her life. “Oh, Paul,” she whispered.
Then she rose and turned in the other direction. She would forget about everything that had happened in the last twelve hours and get on with her life. Paul would be a distant memory in a few months. Once she left the Hamptons, nothing would remind her of him. Nothing at all.
7
New York City, two months later
Paul put aside the menu and rose when he saw his parents enter the restaurant. He didn’t need to wave at them, since the maitre d’ of the Palm Court in the Plaza Hotel on Fifth Avenue and Central Park South was already guiding them to his table.
He hadn’t seen his parents in two months, having left the Hamptons right after Sabrina and Daniel’s wedding. He hadn’t been back since. That his parents were now making a special visit to Manhattan to see him struck him as curious, to say the least.
His mother was dressed to the nines. But when was she not? Even for a casual family dinner, she was always impeccably dressed. She would have looked just as beautiful in a simple cotton dress and d
idn’t really need all the jewelry that dangled from her neck and wrists, or the rings that graced her dainty hands. Whenever Paul let his eyes wander over his mother, he wondered what she was compensating for. Why did everything in her life have to be perfect at all times? As though in her world, the slightest imperfection was a major catastrophe.
Paul kissed his mother on both cheeks to greet her. “You look fabulous, Mother,” he said, knowing she loved compliments almost as much as jewelry. She’d never liked him calling her Mom, Mommy, or Mama.
When he released her, he nodded to his father, who in his casual linen suit looked like an older edition of himself. “Dad! So you managed to tear yourself away from the golf course for a day?”
His father chuckled. “Your mother has her ways.” His father winked and slapped him on the shoulder, squeezing it for a brief moment. “Good to see you, Paul. Your sister says hi.”
Paul pointed to the chairs and helped his mother sit down. He readjusted her chair before taking his seat again. “How are Olivia and her little brat?”
His mother tossed him a scolding glance. “The boy has a name, and he’s not a brat. He just needs a lot of attention.”
Paul rolled his eyes and caught his father’s suppressed smirk. “Well, I guess little Jonathan isn’t going to get any more attention than he has so far, considering my dear sister is breeding yet again.”
If he’d calculated correctly, Olivia was about seven months pregnant now. And with a new baby arriving, Paul was sure his neglected little nephew would only become more difficult. Couldn’t Olivia see that the boy needed more of her time? Paul remembered well how sweet Jonathan had been as a baby, when his parents had fussed over him every minute of the day. But now it appeared that the novelty had worn off, and the more the child craved his parents’ attention, the more unruly he became. And while Paul loved the little rascal, he saw him so rarely that the few moments he got to spend with him every few months didn’t result in any change in Jonathan’s behavior.
