by Brit Lauren
I twist my head around and watch her walk away, the bottom of her arse cheeks just poking out from beneath Ethan’s t-shirt. Damn she has a nice arse.
She glances over her shoulder and I whip around in my seat so fast I’m surprised I haven’t snapped my damn neck.
I’ve just got off a twelve hour shift at the hospital when I rock up at Thor’s house. I go into the office to get my schedule for the week. SJ, the secretary, takes all the bookings and then tells us what we’re doing for the week. She does it for all the guys except Xavier, and that’s because he has such high end clients that they refuse to deal with anyone but him. That crazy bastard flies to New York once a month just to fuck a senator’s wife, and Dubai twice a month to do a sheikh’s daughter. I mean, I’m pretty sure they can legally cut your dick off for that shit out there.
I pick up my schedule off her empty desk and glance at the two new bookings for this week. Melanie.
“Ah, you’re here.” Xavier comes into the office, closing the door behind him and taking a seat at Thor’s desk. He focuses on me and I want to fucking bail and walk out. I don’t know what it is with Xavier, but his eyes are so dark, so unreadable, that I never have a clue what he’s thinking. He has this way of looking at you as though he’s dissecting you. “Melanie Myers was very happy with her first experience.” He says, smoothing a hand down his already perfect tie, complete with what I know will be a platinum tie pin. “She wants you three times a week.”
I clear my throat. “That’s…that’s good.”
His gaze narrows, lines sinking into the corners of his eyes and I want to slap myself. Xavier misses nothing. “Good? That’s fifteen grand a week kid.” He leans back in the chair and props his ankle on his knee, picking lint off his trouser leg. “You look nervous. She do something you didn’t like?” His eyes flick up, pinning me to the spot.
“No.” I shake my head. Still he keeps staring at me, waiting. I sigh. “She…”
“She what?” He leans forward and I see something almost protective cross his features.
“She’s just different.” I don’t know how else to put it. The door opens and Thor walks in, glancing between me and Xavier. His gaze lingers on Xavier who is still staring at me.
“What’s wrong?” He asks. Damn, these fuckers are either overly suspicious, or freakishly perceptive. Xavier and Thor have been best friends since forever and it’s kind of scary how they read each other.
“Junior here doesn’t seem thrilled about his new client.”
Thor whips around, frowning at me. “Why? Did she step out of line?”
“For fucks sake. No!” I throw my hands up and he cocks a brow at me. Xavier just smirks. “Look, she’s just…dominant.”
A slow smile pulls at Thor’s lips and Xavier lets out a low chuckle. “Oh, she’s a proper cougar?”
“There’s a fake cougar?”
Thor laughs and turns back to Xavier. “I remember my first real woman. Mrs Johnson.” He sighs.
“Mine was my patent law lecturer.” Xavier pipes up. “She was fucking brutal.”
“Yep.” Thor agrees before coming over and clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Mrs Johnson made me the man I am today.” He grins. “Everyone has that one woman. Looks like she’s going to be yours, son.”
I groan because now they fucking know, and I’m going to get no end of shit. I know Maddox will fucking hear about it, and then my life will be hell.
“I have to go. I have a client.”
I leave the office and I can hear them laughing on the other side of the door. Brilliant. I should have kept my mouth shut.
Luckily my client this evening is Penelope Preston. She’s eighty-nine. Basically her granddaughter was a paying nurses to go into her house, not because she needed any help, but to keep her company. So she decided that rather than having nurses, she’d rather spend her deceased husband’s money on paying me to go and see her twice a week. And it’s purely innocent. Well, I mean, she can be a bit gropey, but I’m not there to fuck her. Even an escort has to have a line. Anything wrinkly is mine. I’ll admit though, she makes me laugh.
I pull into the gravel driveway in front of her house and get out of the car, locking it. She lives in a massive house on the edge of Hyde Park. She bought in with her first husband when she was twenty for thirty thousand pounds, and now it’s worth tens of millions. It’s a six-bedroom house with just her living in it. She refuses to sell it though.
I knock on the door and the maid answers, smiling brightly at me. “Kaden. Come in.” She says fondly. I wonder if she knows that I’m paid to be here, or if she just thinks I’m some nice young man who volunteers to spend his time with an old dear.
Penelope is sitting in the drawing room with a book in her lap as always.
“Oh, Kaden, my love.” She stands up and wraps her arms around me, kissing both my cheeks.
“How are you, Pen?”
She smiles like a giddy school girl and waves me off. “I’m fine. Better for having you here though.” She pouts. “Nadine!” She shouts. The maid, Nadine pops her head around the door. “Put dinner on the table, would you, dear?” Nadine nods. “Thank you.”
I offer Penelope my arm and she takes it, allowing me to guide her towards the dining room. “Now, tell me how you’ve been. How’s your PHD going?” Not many people know about my PHD. Certainly no one at the agency. I’m not sure why I have such a desire to keep it to myself, but I just do. I tell Pen because she’s smart. She worked as a nurse in Africa, back when that was about as safe as bare backing a five-dollar hooker. And honestly, she’s more a friend than a client, despite how uncomfortable the entire notion of her giving me money makes me.
“It’s good.” I pull out her chair for her and push it in behind her. “Hard work.”
I take the seat at the end of the enormous table, sitting to her left. “You youngsters. Don’t know what hard work is.” She rolls her eyes and I laugh. “My second husband Tommy used to work twelve hour days, six days a week. Still found the energy to fuck his secretary every night.” She cackles to herself. “Come to think of it, that sixth day might have been more fucking, less working.” Nadine comes into the room, shaking her head as she catches the tail end of the conversation. She puts a bottle of beer down in front of me and pours a glass of wine for Penelope.
“What happened to Tommy?” I ask.
“Oh, I divorced him.” She bobs her head. “Not before a vast amount of money was drained from several illegal offshore accounts though.” She shrugs. “He died a few years back.”
I laugh, lifting the bottle of beer to my lips. Penelope Preston is a woman with a serious history. She also has a wealth of knowledge and experience on pretty much everything. I often feel guilty that she pays me. It feels like it should be the other way round sometimes. I tried to ask Thor if he’d discount the rate seeing as she doesn’t want anything, well…naked. Ever the businessman though, he refused.
Nadine brings out a chicken liver pate starter, and honestly, the woman may just be one of the best chefs in this city.
“Thank you.” I smile and wink at her. Pen swats at me with her napkin. “What?”
“You’d charm the birds out of the sky.”
“Well it is my job.”
She sighs. “Ah, if I were a few years younger.” I chuckle, picking up my knife and fork. “I think I’d throw a hip out these days.” She always says that and I always reply with the same thing.
“I would.” She swats at me again and I laugh, listening to her cackle. She’s one in a million, and honestly, of all the women in my life, this lady is the one I respect the most.
We do what we always do on a Thursday evening, talk, laugh, eat and Pen drinks wine. By the end of the night she’s drunk and laughing like a schoolgirl. Nadine has to help her up the stairs to bed. I leave her house the same way I always do, with a smile on my face.
I hop in the car and head back to my apartment. It’s nearly midnight, and I have rounds again tomorrow, b
ut hey, that’s what coffee is for, right?
As I drive through the London streets I see people my age spilling out of student bars, drunk and carefree. When did I become so far removed from that? When I think about it, it’s kind of crazy. Still, I make more money in a week than half of them will make in a year once they leave university.
I was afforded an opportunity and I took it. No matter how hard the balancing act is, I will never regret that decision.
When I get home, there are a few people in the apartment. I’m usually really laid back about that kind of shit, but I’m really not in the mood tonight.
“Hey! You’re home.” Ethan grins, looking up from his video game. Some guy I don’t know has the other remote and shouts loudly when he obviously takes Ethan out.
“Yeah, I’m home.” I try not to sound like an arse, I really do.
“Hey Kaden.” I turn in the direction of the voice and see Lacey standing in the kitchen doorway wearing daisy dukes and a tank top that’s practically hanging off her chest, showing her bra. Melissa is next to her, but she flashes me a wry smile before pushing off the wall and moving over to the sofa. A couple of other people are lounging about in the front room, drinking beer.
“Hey, Lacey.” I say and have to squeeze past her to get into the kitchen. I set the coffee machine on timer and tidy away the few empty bottles that are littering the side. I’m not that guy, but I’m just burnt out right now and can’t find the energy to be Ethan’s wingman. I chuck a bottle in the recycle bin and still when I feel fingers trace between my shoulder blades.
“Lacey…” I know it’s her without even looking.
“You seem tense, Kaden.” Oh, boy.
I turn to face her and step back out of her reach. But of course I can’t be an arsehole so I smile. “I just have a headache. It was a really long day at the hospital.”
Before I can do anything or react, she presses her body against mine and pushes up on tiptoes, trying to kiss me. I grip her shoulders, holding her away from me with a frown. She has the slightly glazed over eyes of someone who’s had too much to drink. The sways slightly and takes a step back. I wait for her to say something, but she doesn’t. Instead she ducks her head and scoops a strand of dark hair behind her ear, looking as though she’s hurt. Fuck this. I have tried the whole dating thing, but honestly, being an escort and trying to date… the two just do not go together. Let’s be honest, no girl is going to want to date a guy who fucks women for a living, which leaves you with lying. So what’s the point? Admittedly, that leaves room for a casual fuck, but why? Why the hell would I want to sleep with some random girl when I get paid to do that exact thing?
“You should go home, Lacey. Sleep it off.”
A frown line mars her features and she glares at me. “What, you’re too good for me now? You’ve had a taste and you’re done.”
Honestly, I’m tired and bored. I’m not going to sit here and explain myself to her. Instead I just walk out of the kitchen, heading straight for my room.
“Dude! Where are you going?” Ethan calls at me as I walk past the group in the living room.
“Bed. I have an early day again tomorrow.” I offer as explanation before opening the door into the hallway. I get the expected grumbling and people calling me a pussy. I don’t care. In the last year my life has gone from parties, university and easy sex, to working more hours than should be physically possible, earning more money than most people dream of, and seeing sex as work, rather than play. My idea of down time is an early night, or a good gym session. Oh, how times change.
I go to the reception desk of the hotel and give them my name as instructed. The girl on the desk types something on the computer and then smiles brightly before handing me the key.
“Take the elevator to the top floor, then take a left, it’s the door at the end of the hall. The junior suite.” I nod and listen, even though I know exactly where I’m going because this is the exact same place I’ve met Melanie the last three times I’ve seen her.
I take the lift up and when I’m standing outside the inconspicuous looking door I suddenly feel nervous. Melanie seems to get me like that and I don’t know why. I’ve never been nervous about a job, not even my very first one. I take a deep breath and swipe the card over the reader. The door clicks loudly and the little red dot on the handle turns green. I push the door open and step inside, sinking into the thick carpet.
Melanie is standing by the window again, looking out over the view of London, it’s lights twinkling below like fireflies.
“Kaden.” She says my name, but doesn’t turn around. It’s that cold indifference of hers that puts me so on edge.
“Melanie.” I shove my hands in the pockets of my suit trousers, trying to seem casual and decidedly more confident than I feel. She turns to face me, keeping her arms folded over her chest. Today she’s wearing a light grey dress which is perfectly tailored to every contour of her body. Her dark hair is loose and hanging over one shoulder.
Swinging her hips gracefully, she moves towards me. Her eyes roam over my body casually, surveying and studying everything.
“Take your jacket off.” She orders. I unfasten the two buttons and shrug out of the jacket, draping it over the back of the sofa. Instead of stopping in front of me, she starts to circle around behind me. I wait for her to touch me, but she never does. She just looks, keeping one arm over her chest and the other raised, allowing her to tap her index finger over her bright red lips. “Shirt.” She says it quietly, but still manages to make it an order.
I inhale deeply and loosen my tie, pulling it through my collar and putting it down next to my jacket. She watches intently as I remove my shirt. Still she circles, slowly, methodically. I imagine this is how a gazelle must feel when it senses the presence of a lion, wary, nervous. My senses seem ultra attuned, listening to the way her heels sink softly into the carpet when she’s in my blind spot. It’s ridiculous, I mean, what’s she going to do? But she just makes me uneasy. I remove my cufflinks and then the shirt, placing the cufflinks on the table and the shirt next to the jacket and tie. It’s all very controlled. I’m used to passion and spontaneity, not this. But this is her, this is what she does. This is how she does it.
She finally comes to a halt in front of me. Her fingers wrap around my belt, prying it from the buckle and roughly yanking it open. Well this is different. Every time I’ve come here it’s been the same, jacket and shirt off, tied to the bed while she rides my face. Would I choose it? No. It drives me fucking mad. But she’s the client, and she’s paying me to do a job. If that job involves eating pussy…for five grand, I’ll chow the fuck down.
Those dark eyes of hers fix on my face as she undoes the belt. Her expression remains completely impassive, like a statue. I stand there like her own personal doll, mute while she shoves my trousers and boxers down. I kick my shoes off and step out of my remaining clothes. I’m completely naked, while she’s still fully clothed. I square my shoulders and stand shamelessly in front of her. She’s a hard woman to read, but I feel as though I’m gradually starting to understand her. She likes power, pure and simple. The restraints, the orders, the ice cold demeanor. She wouldn’t be the first to get off on the thrill of power, and she sure as shit won’t be the last. If it’s dominion over me she wants, then while she’s paying me my five grand she can have at it. Plus, I have to admit, I’m curious what she has in store for me, because I’ve come to find her brand of torture alarmingly hot considering all she does is leave me with blue balls.
“Get on the bed. On your back, hands above your head.” She instructs. Same as before. She gets my tie and winds it around my wrists, securing me to the headboard. Again. When she yanks the material tight against my skin, my dick twitches, hardening against my stomach. She moves away and I’m expecting the strip tease from last time, but I don’t get it. She goes to her handbag and takes something out before walking back to my side. When she lifts her hand I see that it’s a silk scarf. Pulling it tight between her
hands she holds it in front of my face and cocks an eyebrow, a wordless question. She wants to blindfold me. I lift my head and she wraps the material around my face, tying it at the back of my head. I lay there on the bed, naked, bound and blindfolded. I listen for her footsteps, but they’re so muted by the carpet that I can’t work out where she is. I hear the hushed rustle of material, the lowering of a zip, something hitting the floor. My heartbeat rises as the anticipation builds. The bottom of the bed dips so I know she’s on here with me, but she makes no move to touch me. The first thing I feel is a warm breath, right across my cock. I tense, waiting. It’s long seconds before I feel the tentative brush of her tongue and my senses are so over alert that the small touch has my abs tensing like a steel band has been wrapped around me. I grit my teeth, panting through the sensation that has my entire body on edge, trembling desperately.
“When you deprive someone of one sense, their others become more attuned.” She says slowly, her voice husky. “They stop seeing and they start feeling.” I say nothing and feel the light scratch of her nails over my abs, then it’s gone. Again, I get the hint of her breath against my cock, before she swipes her tongue, root to tip. My arms tense, fighting the restraints. The more I fight though, the tighter they pull, cutting into my skin. Her fingers wrap around my ankles and push, until my legs are bent and spread with my feet flat on the mattress. And then my balls are in her mouth. Both. At the same time. She pulls and sucks, rolling them around in her mouth and dragging her tongue over the seam between them. I’ve had some serious blow jobs in my time, and ball sucking has never really done much for me, but all I can say is I’ve clearly never come across a woman who really knew how to suck some balls. She pulls away and my balls slip from between her lips, making me groan. Her tongue dips lower, flattening against my taint in a way that makes me clench and tremble. Jesus, the woman’s mouth is equal parts heaven and hell.
