Her Last Chance

by Stephanie Belafonte

  I knocked on Roman’s door and waited. Not patiently, mind you. I stalked back in forth in front of the entrance to his condo like a tigress waiting to devour her prey as soon as the gates were opened. I almost salivated at the thought of tearing into him. I mean, how could he—no, how dare he put my picture up on the website without my permission? It was such an invasion of my personal space and my privacy that my skin crawled at the idea of random strangers, maybe even some men that I knew, lusting over my looks as they skimmed through the site.

  As it was with Eric Landers, if anyone I knew had seen the picture, I could’ve easily asked exactly why they were browsing a site offering professional escorts.

  But.

  That didn’t change the fact that I didn’t want my pretty little face out there for any horny man (or woman) to see. My clients and I, we had a strict agreement of confidentiality. Sure, I’d crossed paths with more people than I would’ve liked, yet their salacious, taboo desires were as safe with me as my identity was with them.

  This—this was unforgiveable.

  I pounded my fist on the door, louder, harder, and shouted, “Roman. Open up.”

  Another ten seconds passed and I was about to pound on the door again when I heard the metallic click of a deadbolt and the jingling of a releasing chain.

  He cracked the door open, wide enough to see who was outside with a single eye, but also wide enough for me to get an arm through. I shoved my way inside.

  “Kim, what the hell,” he said, stepping back. His skin glistened with the remnants of a shower and one hand held up the purple towel around his waist. “What’re you doing here?”

  I’m ashamed to admit it, but that flood of irrepressible lust returned. Why, I don’t know. I’d been so pissed off that I could’ve chewed through sheet metal to get at him. It was there—that hadn’t gone away, entirely—yet the sight of his wet muscles rippling underneath gorgeous brown skin, it nearly took my breath away.

  This is how it happens. This is how stupid decisions are made all around the world.

  Raging hormones. Some inexplicable bond. Some connection that has no tangible substance. Some fifth dimension type stuff where your energies align with the universe and you’re drawn to each other.

  They all slam together at once and gel into this pulsating desire that leaves you completely out of control.

  Roman leaned back to shut the door behind him, and I got glimpse of him dangling between the flaps of the towel. My nipples stiffened.

  I managed to mumble, “You have to take it down.”

  “What?” he snarled, stepping closer. I could smell the manly soap on his skin, the trailing hint of shaving cream. “Take what down?”

  “My picture. On the website.” I tried to break free of the spell. I tried to tear my eyes away from him. It didn’t work. I wasn’t in control. It wasn’t my room.

  “That’s what this is about?”

  “Yeah. I mean, yes. My friend—my best friend, she and her husband found me, Roman. They saw my picture on the site.”

  “And did you ask her why she was looking for an escort?”

  “That’s not the point. You have to take it down. What if other people I know see me?”

  “I’m not taking it down. It’s in your contract.”

  “No it isn’t.”

  “Do I need to show you? Second page, last paragraph. Any and all photos paid for and-or taken by Midnight Fantasy may be used at the company’s discretion. Black and white, Kim, you signed it.”

  How did I miss that? I didn’t remember seeing it, but then again, it was possible that I’d overlooked it.

  Roman stepped closer and put a finger in my face. “And before you come storming in here, demanding that I do something for you, again, maybe you should ask why. Why is it up there, Roman? Why my picture? Out of the fifty, gorgeous, talented, intelligent, highly successful women that work for you, why did you choose my picture?”

  I whimpered, and I hated myself for it. “But, but, you’ve never used pictures on the site before. You’ve always sent files to the clients or had them come into the office.”

  “Ask me why, Kim.”

  “Why?”

  He used the back of his knuckle to stroke my cheek. “Because I’m proud of you, that’s why.”

  “You are?” I sounded more grateful than I wanted. God, what was I doing? That damn need for approval again. Dreama and her years of beating me down, trying to mold me into something I could never be, or never wanted to be. And how, please, somebody tell me how I was able to go from a strong, confident woman who would’ve demanded respect in any boardroom one minute, to a blubbering, pitiable mess the next.

  Was it the fact that Roman knew what my triggers were? Or was it the lust controlling my will? Was it everything in my life that got me to this point in the first place? How did I end up in this scenario again?

  “Yes,” he insisted. Roman stepped closer. He let go of the towel and wrapped both arms around my back, pulled me closer. Much taller than me, his hardening cock pressed against my waist. “I always hesitate to tell you stuff like that because, seriously, you’re a challenge. You’re smart—”

  “I don’t feel like it right now.”

  He put a finger to my lips. “Hush. It’s true. You’re confident and sharp. You’re beautiful. You’ve got a great business mind and you know what you’re doing with these clients. That’s—that’s sexy, Kim.”

  “Then why are you such an asshole to me sometimes?”

  “Do I really need to explain that?”

  “Yes, please, because I need to know what in the hell I’m doing here. What am I doing with my life? Five minutes ago I was so pissed off at you, I could’ve—I could’ve bitten you.”

  “You were gonna bite me?”

  I shook my head then rested it on his chest. “That was stupid. I couldn’t think of anything to say, but really, I mean I was pissed, and I need you to tell me why you’re such an asshole.”

  “It’s because…damn it.” He kissed the top of my head. “I—um—I feel like I have to keep my distance, you know? Personal, professional, whatever. I’m torn, so torn, because you move me. I want you, and that’s the absolute truth, but we have the money to—”

  “Don’t say it,” I interrupted. I didn’t want to hear about how our business relationship was getting in the way of his decisions about me. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to think about it. All I wanted to do was convince him that he was wrong.

  I dropped to my knees, looking up at his chiseled frame standing high above me, letting him get a long look at the hunger in my eyes. He smiled. I leaned forward, caressing those muscular thighs that could’ve been carved from stone, and took him in my mouth. I teased him with my tongue, wrapped my mouth around his massive member, and went all the way to the base, feeling him growing as I licked and sucked.

  I let him watch me, never breaking eye contact, slowing my rhythm and then speeding up again. He gently placed his hands on either side of my head and guided me, controlling my motion, and I let him do it. I let him have his way with my mouth.

  Roman turned his head toward the ceiling and pushed me away, his cock glistening in front of my face, wet with saliva. “Not yet,” he said, reaching down, picking me up from the floor.

  He took my hand and led me into his bedroom.

  I buried the rational thoughts in my mind; the ones that said this was trouble.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Roman’s domain couldn’t have been more perfectly structured if a Hollywood set designer had strolled in with a massive budget and no limit on her expenses. Deep, plush carpet that you could bury your toes in. A high-rise bed that almost required a ladder. An aquarium, stretching the length of one side wall, gave off a blue glow as the multi-colored fish inside swam around in their meticulously decorated environment. Two matching lamps sat on both sides of the bed and a single, bedside clock rested on the nightstand. Like his office, it was spotless and compulsively ordered.
>
  The shades were open, overlooking the city below. From the top floor, nothing obstructed the view and only one word can describe it: magnificent. Given the opportunity, I would’ve been perfectly content to lounge on the bed and watch the clouds roll across the pristine blue sky.

  His sheets were eggplant purple; soft, silky, and smooth, they felt glorious against my bare skin as he slowly removed each piece of my clothing. He kissed my neck, between my breasts, and then all the way down across my belly button. I lifted my hips so he could slip off my panties.

  I arched my back and moaned as he buried his tongue inside me, working it in slow thrusts and then moving upward to the most sensitive button he could’ve pushed.

  I turned my head to the side, closed my eyes, and allowed the pleasure to overtake my body. I brought one hand up to trace a finger around a nipple, pinching it hard to add the slightest hint of pain to the mounting sensations underneath Roman’s tongue. With my other hand, I grabbed the back of his head, pulling him harder against me as I bit my bottom lip and tried to hold out as long as I could.

  When I was seconds away from a climax, Roman eased himself away, allowing me a moment to catch my breath.

  “You’re amazing,” I said.

  “I know.” Not cocky, but confident. Self-assured. And if it were possible, it made me wetter. “Roll over,” he said. “Up onto your knees.”

  I obeyed. I was so lost in the moment, so close to an orgasm, in a completely uncontrolled state of mind that I would’ve done whatever he wanted. I was his. I would’ve done anything for him.

  And I did.

  Roman kneeled behind me and I craned my head around to watch as he stroked himself. He bent over and licked slowly upward, all the way up to the forbidden spot between my cheeks where he ran his tongue in languid circles. No one had ever done that to me, and the sensation was glorious. Why had I never seriously considered it before? I’d had clients beg me to allow them the privilege, but I’d always declined. I thought they couldn’t pay me enough.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled, almost reaching my climax right then.

  He crawled to his knees, rubbing himself against my wetness. The slippery sensation of skin on skin left me throbbing, needing him. I whimpered and begged Roman to take me.

  “No, not there,” he said, his rumbling voice deep and heavy with lust. “Here.” He rubbed the tip of his cock against the one place where I never intended anything to enter.

  Apprehensive and hesitant, but completely under his spell, I said, “Do you want to?”

  “I’m not asking.” I couldn’t see his face, yet I heard the grin.

  I waited a beat longer, feeling my heart racing and the pulsating between my legs begging for release. If I was going to do this, I had to claw for some semblance of command. I whipped my hair around, looking over my shoulder and up at him. “Take my picture off the site,” I demanded, “and you can put it wherever you want.”

  ***

  In hindsight, no pun intended, fighting to maintain the tiniest bit of dominance over the situation in that way, well, let’s just say that it wasn’t the wisest decision. I was filled with a tender sensation, somewhere between pain and numbness as we relaxed together in the afterglow. However, I have to admit that it was one of the most mind-blowing orgasms I’d ever had. Once I was able to relax and take him, the flood of new feelings washed over me like waves continually lapping against the shore.

  Truly, he took me, in the most forbidden and newly intimate way I could think of, and for once, my complete and total submission wasn’t worrisome. I was where I wanted to be. He was a jerk one minute and a security blanket the next. Once I thought I understood the former, the latter was so much better.

  I checked the clock on the nightstand. I had to get back.

  “Roman,” I said, nudging him with an elbow.

  I felt his warm breath on my neck as he mumbled, “Mmm?”

  “I have to go soon.”

  “No, stay.” He tightened his gentle grip around me and snuggled up closer against my backside.

  “I need to get home.”

  “Five more minutes.” His lips were warm on my earlobe.

  Relenting, I whispered, “Okay,” and kissed his bicep, the one I’d been using for a pillow. I stared out the window, content and satiated, needing to go, but never wanting to leave.

  Again, I wondered how I’d ended up there, and why did it feel so right after all the posturing, challenging, and butting of heads that we’d been through? It may seem strange, but I thought about the geese again. Not necessarily mates for life, but more like a temporary alliance, an agreed upon ceasefire between two equally competitive individuals.

  Had we really become that, or was there room for something more?

  Thoughts raced around inside my head. Alternatively, the minutes ticked past like sap dripping down a tree trunk.

  “Hey,” I said, nudging him for a second time.

  Roman grunted and planted another soft kiss on my neck.

  “Can I ask you something?” I felt his body tense. I knew that, to a man, the question was as bad as the other phrase they all hated to hear: “We need to talk.”

  “What’s up?” he said, pulling his arm from underneath me. I could tell that he was trying to sound casual. It didn’t work. The hint of dread was evident in the layers of his voice.

  I rolled onto my back and looked up at him. “What’re we doing? Honestly.”

  “Enjoying each other.” His lips on my right nipple. The familiar tingle below my waist.

  I almost left it alone. I almost kept my mouth shut. I almost accepted his answer.

  But, no, I had to keep talking, and that’s really the genesis of when the trouble began.

  “I know that,” I replied, “and I think so, too, but…”

  “But what?”

  “Do you think you could ever love me?” It was a risky question. I wasn’t asking if he did love me. It was too soon and that would’ve been irrational because we were a long way from that point.

  It wasn’t the childish question of a young woman, infatuated with the power, money, and maturity of an older man. It wasn’t any of that. To me, it was a calculated inquiry about our intent for the future—sort of like sitting across from the CEO of some multi-billion dollar company and asking, “So, what do you think? Can we work out a deal here?”

  I wanted to love him…eventually. He was sexy beyond anything I could imagine. Penetrating eyes that made me melt whenever I stared longingly into them. A body of a Greek god, carved from marble. A huge—well, you know—that satisfied me. He was highly intelligent, a good match for my wits, with a bright, white smile that conjured up images of other beautiful things like butterflies and rainbows. He was also challenging—a worthy opponent that kept me on my toes, made me think before I acted.

  I asked because I could see myself with him years from now. Maybe it would be a rocky road getting there, but eventually, I could see us at our destination.

  The only remaining question was if he would be a good father figure to Joey. I thought back to how he’d said, “A child is never a mistake,” during our first meeting. Surely that was a sign. Surely he’d be great with a little boy who he could teach how to throw a football and how to start a campfire with sticks.

  It was a simple question, yet all of that clanged around in my mind in the split second before he reacted.

  What I got in response shouldn’t have surprised me. I should’ve learned by then.

  “Are you kidding me with this?” he said, practically flailing away from me, hopping off the bed, then wrapping himself in a terrycloth robe that hung by the bathroom door. “Love you? Love you? You’re joking, right?”

  I didn’t know what to say. I was thoroughly dumbfounded. “But—you just—we were…I don’t mean right now. Like, a long time away. Maybe. Possibly. I was just asking, Roman.”

  “What’re you saying, Kim?”

  “Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with you? I’m not say
ing I love you, like love love you. I like you, Roman. I enjoy your company, and I just want to know if this is going anywhere.”

  He paced back and forth from the bedroom to the bathroom, over to the window, running his hand across his shaved scalp. “I don’t get it,” he said.

  “Get what?”

  “How in the hell someone as smart as you can be so dense! Don’t you see what this is? We’re not a couple. We’ll never be a couple. I don’t have room in my vocabulary for the word, ‘love.’” He slammed a fist against his chest, pounding it as he spoke. “This, you and me, what just happened, that’s called ‘sex,’ Kim, nothing more, and I allow it to keep happening because you fuck like a goddamn animal. It’s a perk to our business relationship.”

  I fought to hold back the tears, waffling somewhere between outright rage and embarrassment for having allowed myself to feel something for five minutes. “So, what, your cock is my bonus check?”

  “Exactly.”

  I flung myself off the bed, snatching up my clothes, spitting verbal barbs at him. “Fuck you, Roman. I’m done with this shit. I quit. I’m done with being your dirty little whore. I’m done with rolling around in cheese puffs and getting my fingers pinched in nipple clamps. I’m sick of pissing on perverted old cowboys.”

  He reached for me. “Wait—”

  “Get your goddamn hands off me. I’m done, you hear me? I’m done with this stupid job. I’m done with Midnight Fantasy. I’m done with you. I mean, fuck me, what was I thinking, huh? Don’t answer that. I wasn’t. And you know what, from here on out, the ceasefire is over.”

  I stormed out of the bedroom, pulling my sweatshirt over my head, yanking my hair back into a ponytail and snapping the band around it. Behind me, the only thing I heard was a confused, “Ceasefire?”

  I waited until the elevator doors closed before I collapsed into a heap of tears. I pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my face in my arms. I didn’t just cry, I sobbed. My shoulders shook so violently that I got cramps between my shoulder blades. My ass throbbed from allowing him to penetrate me. My jaws hurt from clenching them, grinding them together.