The Deception

by Chris Taylor

  Savannah gasped. When he finally pulled his finger away, she was almost mesmerized with need. With his gaze intent upon hers, he brought it to his mouth and licked it. “Mm, you taste good, too.”

  The heat from his gaze seared her. With quick movements, he tugged off his shoes and socks and tossed them to the floor. She sat up and pressed her breasts against his back, reaching around to run her hands over the bronzed muscles of his chest. Her fingers brushed across his nipples and found them hard.

  He sucked in a breath and turned to kiss her. His lips moved over her mouth, tasting, sipping, licking, sucking, driving her wild.

  Her hands wandered lower. Taking hold of his belt, she freed it from his trousers. His stomach muscles tensed. Undeterred, she undid the button and slid the zipper down slowly over his erection.

  Sliding her hand inside his suit pants, she caressed his cock through his boxer shorts. The satiny fabric of his underwear slid easily over his hardened flesh. The tip of his cock peeked out above the waistband. It was shiny with fluid.

  With her finger, she touched it, spreading the moisture over the head of his cock. Holding his gaze, she leaned back against the pillows and brought her finger up to her mouth. Her tongue stole out and licked it.

  Will swore and threw off his trousers and underwear. He pressed her down into the bed, his weight fully upon her.

  “You really know how to turn me on.” His voice was rough with need. Lowering his head, he took her mouth in another mind-numbing kiss.

  She kissed him back with a passion that consumed her. His cock pressed between her legs and she moved restlessly against him.

  “I want you to fuck me.” The words fell out of her mouth, shocking her in their crudity.

  “Oh, I’m going to fuck you all right, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to fuck you from the first moment I saw you.”

  Leaning over the side of the bed, he grabbed his trousers off the floor and fished inside the pocket. Taking a condom out of his wallet, he tore it open with his teeth and quickly sheathed his cock.

  He pushed her thighs open and settled himself between them. His cock pressed against her entrance. She pushed her bottom upwards, silently urging him to enter her.

  Needing no further encouragement, Will plunged into her, gasping as he was fully sheathed within her warmth. Savannah grabbed hold of his shoulders and pulled him down hard on top of her. Meeting the drive of his hips with fierce thrusts of her own, she clung to him, her arms and legs taut around him as she urged him even closer.

  Within minutes, she was on the edge of an orgasm and squeezed him tight. “Don’t stop.” Her voice was a ragged whisper of need. “I’m going to come.”

  His thrusts increased. She reached the pinnacle and cried out. Her orgasm washed over her. She moaned and clung to him while he continued to plunge into her. Moments later, he tensed above her. His face stilled in the dim light and then, he too, reached fulfilment.

  Collapsing on top of her, his breath came in harsh pants. A few moments later, he moved his weight off her and shifted to lie onto his back.

  Savannah stared up at the ceiling and heaved a sigh. She’d never before experienced such ravishment. And ravished was the only way to describe what had just happened. One night stands had suddenly gone a long way up in her estimation.

  Stealing a glance at Will, she caught her breath in surprise at the intensity of his gaze. His expression was unreadable. Unsure of the etiquette of their situation and totally out of her depth, she blushed furiously at the thought of her wantonness.

  At least he hadn’t recognized her. With a little bit of luck, she’d be able to escape his hotel room with a casual “fare thee well” and be on her way. Steeling herself to come up with a suitable exit line, she took a deep breath and turned on her side to face him.

  “So tell me, are you just a prostitute on the weekends, or is it a full time job?” His casual tone belied the steel in his eyes.

  The air whooshed out of her lungs in an avalanche of shock. Coughing and wheezing, she tried desperately to catch her breath.

  Oh, God! When had he recognized her?

  She couldn’t believe it. She had to get out of there—just as soon as she could breathe.

  With a muttered oath, he bent her forward and gave her a hearty thump on the back. Coughing loudly now, Savannah drew some much-needed air into her lungs. Frantically, she tried to think of a suitable response.

  She couldn’t tell him the truth. What if he was involved in the illegal activities going on at the brothel?

  “Cat got your tongue, Red?”

  Her gaze shot up and caught the wicked glint of humor in his eyes. Swallowing hard, she returned his grin with reluctance. It was clear she couldn’t deny he’d met her at the brothel, but how was she going to explain her presence there?

  She took another breath. “Look, you don’t understand. I-I’m not… It’s not what you think.”

  “And what do I think, Red?” Taking her chin in his hand, he looked directly into her eyes. “Is it that I think you’re a hot-looking woman, a fantastic fuck and a girl who takes money for sex? I tell you what, even though I’m not usually into fucking prostitutes, I’d damn well be happy to pay for what we just shared.”

  Savannah gasped in shock and outrage, her face burning with fury and embarrassment. She pushed away from him.

  “How dare you? Who the hell do you think you are, speaking to me like that? I’m not some common trollop—”

  “Whoa, there! Calm down, Red.” He offered an unapologetic smile. “I’m sorry if I was too vulgar. You didn’t seem to mind a few moments ago.”

  Another wave of heat seared her cheeks. She needed no reminder of her uninhibited behavior. He reached out for her again, but she moved away, dragging the sheet with her as she tried to gather her thoughts.

  Maybe she should just tell him? “The truth is,” she hesitated. “I’m actually a journalist doing research for a story.”

  “Bullshit!” Will bounded up out of the bed and turned to face her, his expression now hard. “There’s no way any sane, normal girl would put herself in the situation you were in on Saturday night for the sake of a story. You might be a good fuck, sweetheart, but you sure as hell need some work on telling lies.”

  Savannah was aghast. How could he not believe her? But then again, why should he? After all, the few things he knew about her hardly reflected well on her character.

  Dancing nearly naked in a brothel and then having fast and furious sex with an almost stranger were not exactly things that sparkled on the resume of a decent, upstanding young woman. She tried again.

  “Look, I don’t know what I can say to convince you I’m telling the truth. I’m not a prostitute or-or anything like that. I’d never even been inside a brothel until last Saturday night.”

  Will paced the floor in front of her, seemingly oblivious to his nakedness. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you went into a brothel, danced half-naked in front of a group of drunk and disorderly men who were all looking for a bit of ass and took the risk that none of them would want to fuck you—all for the sake of a story?”

  “But it’s true.” Her protest sounded weak, even to her ears.

  “You might’ve just tried to bonk my brains out, Red, but believe me, they’re still working just fine. You’d better come up with something a bit more believable than that.”

  Savannah sat up higher in the bed, yanking the sheet up around her neck. She wished she was confident enough to get up and pull her clothes back on, but she wasn’t used to parading naked in front of men she barely knew—or any man, for that matter—despite what Will thought.

  From the closed look on his face, nothing she said right now was going to change his mind. “You know what? I don’t care if you believe me. It’s the truth and I don’t have to explain myself any further to you. But if I were you, I’d be careful about fraternizing in one of the city’s most notorious brothels. You never know who might see you.” Anger made her reckless. “I
bet there would be plenty of tabloids that would pay good money to hear about a story like that, a man of your social standing and all.”

  He halted abruptly beside the bed and stared at her, his eyes widening in shock. “You little bitch. Now I get it. You planned this all along, didn’t you?” Snatching his trousers off the floor, he jerked them up around his hips, fury radiating off every taut line of his body.

  “Fuck! How could I have been so stupid? Of course you knew who I was. You’ve known right from the start. Right from the first moment you saw me near the stage. You recognized me and saw a meal ticket. I don’t know what game you were playing the other night, but I can see it clearly now. You’re trying to blackmail me, aren’t you?”

  He leaned down and shoved his face close to hers, a menacing glint in his eyes. “You’ve lucked out, sweetheart. I don’t know how the fuck you managed to find out I’d be here tonight, but somehow you did and you made damn sure I noticed you.”

  He sneered. “Well, congratulations. I noticed you all right. And I was happy to fuck you like you wanted. But I’m not going to fall for the little scam you’ve cooked up in that pretty little head of yours. Too bad for you, I couldn’t care less what the tabloids print about me—the juicier the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

  He bent and picked up his shirt off the floor and yanked it on. “I’m afraid your little extortion scheme is about to fall apart. Take your story wherever you like, I couldn’t give a fuck. You sure as hell won’t see a dollar out of me.”

  In stunned silence, Savannah watched as he finished dressing, shoving his boxer shorts and bow tie into the pocket of his jacket. She felt sick to her stomach.

  When he reached the door, he turned back to the bed and raked his scathing gaze over her body.

  “Thanks for the evening, Red. It was real fun for a while, especially since you managed to get over your inclination to knee me in the balls. Too bad you know how to use your body better than your brains.”

  Savannah reeled back against the pillows as if he’d struck her. Shock and disbelief paralyzed her. The door to the hotel room closed behind him. The sound of the quiet click echoed long after he’d gone.

  CHAPTER 7

  Tuesday morning

  Savannah pushed the hair off her face and stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes were puffy and red. In contrast, her skin looked deathly pale. With her mouth as dry as sandpaper and a lingering headache pressing behind her eyes, the last thing she wanted to do was head into work, but she had no choice. If she didn’t turn up, she didn’t get paid.

  Unless she called in sick. It didn’t seem like half a bad idea, except she tried to save her sick days for the times when Dylan needed her. Lately, that had been more times than she cared to admit. She only hoped that this time around, her brother would stick with his rehab program and finally get on top of his addiction.

  A soft, silky body slid between her ankles. She looked down and spied Milo. The cat’s long golden hair felt like warmed custard against her skin. Bending down, she gave him a quick scratch between his ears. He meowed in protest when she stopped and a slight smile tugged at her lips. It was already seven-thirty. If she didn’t get her butt moving, she’d be late for work.

  Of their own volition, her thoughts flew back to the night before. She couldn’t believe she’d been so-so… Loose was the only word that came to mind.

  It was one thing to toy with the idea of picking a guy up and spending the night with him, but to actually go ahead and do it! And she couldn’t just pick up any guy. Oh no, she had to pick up Will Rutledge, the multi-millionaire advertising tycoon who frequented brothels and no doubt had scores of conquests. Now she could add herself to his list.

  Turning on the shower, she stepped into the glass cubicle and let the hot water pound onto her head and shoulders. Squeezing shampoo into her palm, she lathered her hair briskly, wishing she could wash away her memories from last night as easily.

  After Will left the hotel room, it had taken her nearly an hour to get herself together enough to dress and leave. She’d never dreamed he wouldn’t believe her—or that he would jump to such a wild conclusion. The mere thought of her trying to blackmail him was beyond ludicrous.

  The thought of returning to the ball had been abhorrent, so she’d gone straight down to the lobby and had slipped out unnoticed through the double glass doors. Her friends thought she’d headed home earlier, anyway. The night had still been relatively young when she’d collapsed into her bed, but she’d been completely drained.

  As tired as she’d been, her mind had refused to shut down and she’d spent the night tossing and turning, replaying the last few scenes with Will over and over in her head.

  Turning off the shower, she stepped out and briskly toweled herself dry. Wrapping a second towel around her head, she padded into her bedroom and opened the doors to her built-in closet.

  It was a luxury she appreciated every time she swung open the doors. She and her brother had previously rented a tiny bed-sit on the edge of Bondi, where the only available closet space had consisted of a miniscule cupboard with no more than a foot of hanging space. The majority of her clothes and all of Dylan’s had spent most of their time lying in open suitcases on the floor, where she’d cursed every time she’d stubbed her toe on them.

  Her mother and father, for all their impressive achievements in the academic world, hadn’t seen fit to ensure adequate provision for their offspring in the event of their untimely deaths. Savannah could still hear the somber voice of the family’s lawyer, a day after her parents had been interned at the North Sydney Crematorium, informing her that after the debts had been paid, there would only be a very modest amount left over for her and Dylan.

  She’d been all of twenty-two. Her brother had just turned thirteen.

  With an impatient shake of her head, Savannah pushed those memories away. It didn’t ever do any good to think about “what ifs” and she didn’t have the time or energy to indulge in a bout of self pity.

  With quick efficiency, she selected a black-and-white striped cotton sleeveless slip dress and pulled it off its hanger. Formal enough for work, it was also cool enough to get her through what promised to be another hot day. Already, she felt the heat of the sun where it shone through her bedroom window.

  Foregoing pantyhose, she slipped her feet into her favorite pair of yellow patent leather high-heel sandals. Although they weren’t Manolo Blahniks—she was still saving up for those—they were comfortable and stylish and added another three inches to her five-foot-ten-and-a-half. Carrie Bradshaw she wasn’t, but she was still pleased with the overall look.

  Walking back into the bathroom, she pulled the hair dryer out of the vanity and plugged it in. Combing her fingers through her long hair, she couldn’t help but remember the feel of Will’s hands as he’d massaged her scalp while he’d pressed kisses all over her lips and cheeks and nose and eyelids, moaning about how beautiful she was and how he wanted to taste her all over.

  Her pulse leaped in response to the memory. Whatever else he might be, there was no doubt Will Rutledge was a damned fine lover and she was kidding herself if she thought she’d be able to forget about him. It infuriated her that, despite his hurtful accusations, if he called and suggested another night of scorching sex, she’d be all but dragging him to the nearest bed.

  The fact that he’d left believing the worst of her was unfortunate, but what could she do? She could hardly telephone Rutledge Advertising and ask to speak with him. He probably wouldn’t even take her call. Besides, she still didn’t know where he fit in as far as the illegal activities at the brothel were concerned. He was a friend of Pete’s, but that didn’t necessarily prove him innocent. It hadn’t seemed to matter while she’d been in the throes of the best sex she’d ever experienced, but now, in the harsh and unforgiving light of day, she couldn’t deny the possibility of his criminality, however slight, concerned her.

  Pushing the thoughts aside, Savannah appli
ed her makeup with the speed of an expert. A few dabs of concealer and some foundation went a long way to covering up the dark circles under her eyes. After applying blusher to her pale cheeks, a touch of mascara to her eyelashes and a slash of chocolaty-brown lipstick, she felt confident no one would be any the wiser about her sleepless night.

  She left the bedroom and walked into the compact kitchen. With no time for breakfast, she picked up her second hand black leather Oroton handbag off the table—a lucky eBay find—and slung it over her shoulder. Pulling open the front door, she closed it firmly behind her.

  With a silent vow to put into action her plan to return to the Black Opal as soon as possible, she headed toward the train station. She owed it to herself to get to the bottom of what was happening at the brothel before she allowed herself to get any more familiar with the delectable William Rutledge.

  * * *

  Max O’Connor had heartburn. Pain twisted in his chest and burned with white-hot heat. He groaned in agony. Despite his pleasantly cool, temperature-controlled office, sweat gathered on his upper lip and pooled under his arms. Another groan escaped his clenched lips. Oblivious to Max’s suffering, the man on the other end of the phone continued his tirade.

  “What the fuck is goin’ on Max? I pick up the paper and find a front page story about my own fuckin’ brothel. How the fuck did that happen, Max?”

  Max wheezed and tried to breathe through another attack. “I know, Vince. I know. Mate, what can I say? I told the little twit to give me something sensational and she came back with this. I was talking about finding one of those soapy stars with their pants down, not this kind of shit. I had no idea—”

  “Bullshit, Max! Don’t try that shit with me. I know how it works. You’re the fuckin’ editor! Nothin’ in that paper gets printed without your say-so.”