Sold to Him

by Cassandra Dee

  But the voice came again.

  “No need, little girl,” it rumbled. “No need to get on your hands and knees, unless that pretty pussy is flashing.”

  I stiffened. How could this asshole talk about my private parts? How rude! I was mad, but kept my head down. A job is a job, I reminded myself again. No need to get mad, just keep going.

  But this time, a pair of wingtips appeared in my sightline. Even in the darkness of the club, I could tell they were expensive. Soft, Italian leather, shiny without being gaudy, the kind that only rich guys wore.

  So I took a deep breath, preparing to be insulted once more. Rich guys really were the worst, they felt like their money let them say whatever they wanted. I gulped, preparing myself for some nasty words, but instead, I was gripped by my waist and lifted into the air.

  The air whooshed from my chest. Holy shit, I’m a big girl and not everyone can lift me up. It takes a lot of muscle, but this guy managed it like it was no problem. I was a feather in his arms, as light as a down pillow and an involuntary sigh escaped from my lungs.

  “Oh!” came my cry.

  The big man merely chuckled, chest rumbling. God, it felt so good to be pressed close to him, to feel that hard muscle against my boobs. And the strange man liked it too.

  “I see you got a nice pair,” he rumbled. “Soft and white like cream.”

  Oh my god, why were men always talking about my body? This time, I opened my mouth to yell at him, but the words died on my lips because I got my first good look at the alpha, and he was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. Dark, almost black hair hung over one eye, with a straight nose and chiseled jaw. Those eyes were a piercing blue, making me go weak inside.

  “Oh um, hi,” I whispered weakly, heart fluttering like a bird.

  The man quirked an eyebrow.

  “Hi?” he ground out, amused. “One second you were Cinderella on the floor there, picking up glass with your hands. Now it’s ‘hi’ for your savior? Nothing more?”

  I stammered.

  “Um- um, thank you?”

  The alpha tossed his head back and laughed, showing off perfect white teeth. The column of his throat was bronzed, thick and strong. I fought the urge to kiss him there, to run my tongue up and down that perfect line, tasting him. God, what was wrong with me? I’ve never been with a man before, and now I was thinking about seducing this guy? Down Kitty, down girl, my inner voice went.

  But the man didn’t give me time to answer because with long steps, he strode across the club floor like he owned it. I caught a glimpse of Morty as we passed and tried to signal, tried to make like this wasn’t my idea, but it was useless. I was caught in this strange man’s arms, unable to move, pinned to that hard chest. Besides, I’d caught a look at Morty’s face, and my boss’s tongue had been hanging out, as surprised as me. Serves him right. He was so mean to his waitresses that now one was being abducted.

  But when we exited the dark floor, I began squirming.

  “Hey!” I proclaimed. “I have a job! I can’t just take off, I’m gonna be fired!”

  The man didn’t even acknowledge me.

  “Shh, pretty girl,” he rumbled. “Shhhh, kitty kitty.”

  What was that supposed to mean? We went down a dark hallway, turning a corner, all of it deserted and I began to panic.

  “Hey, where are you taking me?” I asked, trying to push away from that hard chest. “What’s going on?”

  But the big man still ignored me, gripping my curves tight, striding even faster.

  “Stop, stop!” I shrieked. “This is crazy!”

  Finally we entered an office. Or office is too normal of a word, because the space was huge, with double height ceilings and windows all around.

  “What in the world?” I squealed. “Where are we?”

  The man dropped me unceremoniously on my feet, and I stumbled for a moment in the stilettos.

  “Where are we? I have to get back!” I yelped again, steadying myself against a plush leather couch.

  But the man strode to one window, flicking a switch, and suddenly it was obvious where we were. Because the pane went dark for a moment before going light, and suddenly we were looking over Club Milano, people gyrating on the floor, colored lights flashing crazily.

  “Where is this?” I whispered, eyes drawn to the crowd. “Where is this place?”

  By now, the big man had dropped to sit on a deep blue sofa, folding those long legs.

  “My office,” he rumbled deep in his chest, blue eyes amused. “Where else?”

  I swallowed thickly.

  “Your office? But why? I have to get back, my boss is gonna be pissed.”

  Even as the words came out, I caught a glimpse of Morty through the glass. Yep, it was him in that purple velvet suit, but instead of his usual scowl, he looked sweaty, nervous and jittery. I blinked. Maybe it was my imagination. Had to be. Morty’s always been so mean, there was no way he was nervous.

  But the man in the couch chuckled again deeply.

  “Mortimer? Naw, loser’s not pissed, trust me.”

  I whirled to face him.

  “How do you know? I just got this job,” I choked. “I really need it, and I’m gonna be fired now.”

  The dark man looked at me wryly.

  “I know because Morty works for me,” he tossed out casually. “Grayson Channing at your service.”

  And suddenly I realized why those blue eyes looked so familiar, why there was an aura of command around him. Because this was the owner of the Milano, Mr. Channing himself. I’d seen that mug in dozens of magazines, always with a pretty girl hanging off his arm, if not two or three. I was here with the most powerful man on the Strip, and my body went weak, mind hazy.

  “Um, Mr. Channing,” I mumbled. “Why am I here? I’m a good employee, I swear,” I began. “I swear, tonight’s my first night but I’m usually much better. I don’t know why I spilled those drinks, I’m sorry I ruined your carpet …” the words came babbling out.

  But the big man wasn’t interested.

  “Naw, it’s not that,” he rumbled. “You’re here for a reason.”

  I gulped.

  “Do you need a drink?” I said quickly. “I’m happy to serve you. Here, let me just find the bar,” I spun around, looking for a liquor cabinet.

  But the big man rumbled deep in his throat.

  “Naw, I brought you here for another reason. The Milano’s filled with pretty girls, but you’re the prettiest,” he tossed off casually. “And I want to see a private show.”

  My breath stopped in my chest.

  “What do you mean, a private show?”

  He shrugged.

  “I wanna see you work it a little, you know, dance.”

  Okay that was too much. He might be the owner of this casino, he might be an alpha billionaire, but you can’t just force girls to do what you want.

  “I’m a waitress,” I stammered, cheeks flushing hotly. “I’m a waitress at your hotel, not a stripper.”

  Mr. Channing merely looked at me amused.

  “What was your name again?” he drawled.

  I swallowed thickly.

  “Kitty- Katherine,” I muttered. God, even though I’d just been propositioned rudely, for some reason, instead of being offended, I was titillated. Deep inside somewhere, I wanted to dance for him, I wanted to be someone else for a change, letting my hair down and going wild. I wanted the alpha male to look at me and devour my curves.

  And like he could read my mind, the billionaire grinned wolfishly.

  “Well, if you want to keep your job, then you’re gonna dance,” he tossed off casually, like it was no big deal. “You can do it.”

  I shook my head slowly.

  “But I don’t know how,” I whispered, eyes pleading. “Please don’t make me do this.”

  The gleam in his eyes deepened.

  “You wanna keep your job?” he asked.

  I nodded silently. Oh god, was he going to fire me unless I obeyed? Oh g
od, oh god.

  “You wanna make good money?” he asked again.

  I nodded, brown curls bobbling up and down. Yes, I needed the money, I needed this job so that I could stay in school.

  “Please Mr. Channing, please,” I whispered. “Don’t fire me.”

  The man grinned again, this time his hand reaching down. My eyes were immediately drawn to the bulge in his pants, that big, fat tent. Oh shit, he was huge. Even in the dim light, I could see a ridge, a thick hose that wrapped around his waist, and my mouth went dry.

  Seeing my gaze, the big man chuckled deeply, this time a hoarse rasp. And he grinned again, pulling something out from his pocket.

  “How much do you need?” he asked casually, opening the money clip.

  I gasped. There were so many bills that I could hardly believe my eyes. The roll of cash was as fat as my fist, making my heart race. I could live off that money for six months minimum, if not a year. But there was no sense in giving it all away, so I pretended to be cool.

  “I’m sorry?” I murmured. “I’m sorry?”

  The alpha shot me another glance.

  “Like I said, Katherine, how much do you need?”

  My eyes met those blue ones from across the way. Because holy cow, this was beyond my wildest dreams. A rich man was offering to pay me to dance, offering to give me cash if I shimmied in front of him. But the thing was, could I do it? My choices ran before my eyes.

  On the one hand, I could refuse. I could say again that I was a cocktail waitress, hired only to serve drinks. For sure, I’d be booted back downstairs and fired immediately.

  On the other, I could say yes. I could prance a little, wiggle my ass and then this gorgeous man would pay me. And after it was all over, I could go downstairs and keep my job, complete with big tips.

  The choice was clear. Actually, it wasn’t even a choice. If I wanted to stay in school, if I wanted to keep going to college, I was going to have to dance. Tuition was due next week, the fifteen thousand dollar statement taunting me from the top of my dresser.

  So I took a deep breath.

  “How much are you offering?”

  The big man smiled wolfishly then.

  “How much do you need?”

  I decided to go for it.

  “More than what you got there,” I purred. “Lots more.”

  His eyebrows rose, amused.

  “Try me,” he growled. “I’m a rich man.”

  I took another deep breath.

  “Fifteen thousand. I need fifteen thousand to dance, otherwise it’s not worth my time.”

  As soon as the words came out, I regretted them. The truth was that I’d dance for a lot less, maybe two hundred, three hundred bucks. Even one hundred was a lot to me, I could buy books, maybe pay my electricity bill which was currently four months late.

  But Mr. Channing didn’t hesitate. He flicked open the money clip and began counting, shuffling the cash until fifteen green ones were lined up on the table.

  “There you go,” he rumbled. “Fifteen g’s, isn’t that what you wanted?”

  My eyes almost shot out of my head. Oh my god. Those weren’t twenties, they weren’t even one hundred dollar bills. They were thousand dollar bills, and now there were fifteen of them lined up on the glass table, beckoning to me, almost calling my name. Kitty, Kitty, Kitty, the money chanted. You need us.

  Taking a deep breath, I met Mr. Channing’s eyes.

  “You promise?” I breathed. “You promise those are mine if I dance for you?”

  He nodded nonchalantly.

  “It’s all yours. Make this big boy happy and it’s all yours.”

  Suddenly, I realized what he meant by dance. Everything clicked into place like puzzle pieces fitting together. Because sure, Grayson wanted me to gyrate around this space, to shimmy and wiggle. But no man pays fifteen thousand to see a curvy girl prance around. The money was to get him hot and bothered, to make him aroused until he spurted.

  I swallowed thickly, meeting those blue eyes. But there was no mercy, the alpha knew what he wanted and stared right back, capturing my gaze.

  “The choice is yours,” he rumbled.

  I flushed again, boobs vibrating. Because again, there were no options. With so much money on the table, I could buy my freedom for a semester, pay my tuition in full, but god knows what would happen after that.

  A thrill ran through my soul, making me start. Because deep inside, I wanted to, I wanted to let go and experiment. Despite his reputation as an asshole who fucked women over, Grayson Channing was as good-looking as sin. That big body was huge, looming and muscled, perfectly symmetrical. As I watched, his nostrils flared slightly and suddenly I realized that he was attracted to me too. Sure, he wasn’t busting out yet, that cock was still in his pants, but this alpha was drawn to me on a much more basic level. He liked my curves, they were sassy and sexy to him, and that’s what pushed me over the edge. All my doubts evaporated because I wanted to feel sexy and desirable. I wanted to dance, and the money was just a cherry on top.

  So I took a deep breath.

  “I’ll do it,” I murmured, boobs rising and falling softly. “But don’t you want some music?”

  He shook his head.

  “Naw, I’m sure you have the music inside of you. Or just dance to the music from the club,” he rumbled.

  That was true, I could hear the thump of the drumbeat through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  “Okay,” I nodded. “But can’t those folks see me below? Should I pull the curtains or something?”

  Grayson smiled wolfishly. He flicked his wrist, and suddenly the windows went dark, leaving just the two of us in the privacy of the room.

  “They couldn’t see you to begin with,” he rasped. “These are one-way glass windows. But you better start baby girl, because I’m not waiting.”

  I was stock still for a moment. That deep voice was commanding, making me tremble, making me melt at the very sound. And slowly swaying my hips, our eye contact electric, I began to dance.

  Oh god, this was so wrong. I’m usually a wallflower, the girl leftover in the corner, drinking punch by herself. So I’m not at good at moving to the music, it’s not like I have a ton of practice or know what I’m doing.

  But somehow with Grayson, it didn’t matter. Somehow all that mattered was that this man’s eyes were on me, that he found me desirable, and that we’d entered into a transaction that titillated. I wanted to be sexy, I wanted him to want me, and slowly, I moaned.

  “Mmmm,” came the soft mewl. “Mmm.”

  The alpha’s blue eyes were glued to my curves.

  “Keep going,” he growled. “Keep going, baby girl.”

  I shimmed to the left, then went to the right, twirling my hips sensuously. Was this the way to do it? A momentary shaft of panic coursed through my body. Maybe he didn’t like it, maybe I really was the fat girl acting like a clown. Maybe I was going to be humiliated later on, same as always.

  But the big man merely looked at me hungrily, devouring my curves with those eyes.

  “Keep going,” he rumbled. “Keep going.”

  And my courage surged back then, flooding me with confidence. Oh yeah, the alpha wanted it. This billionaire, who could get any woman he wanted, was currently in the room with me, male body rock hard with anticipation.

  I smiled at him sweetly.

  “Good,” I murmured. “Because you’re gonna get it big boy.”

  And with that, I let my internal rhythm take over. Closing my eyes, I began swaying, working my shoulders, taking small steps. Slowly, I ran my hands up and down over my body sensuously, cupping my breasts, stroking my hips.

  “Mmm,” I purred. “Mmmm.”

  But I wasn’t done yet. My palms rose until they squeezed my tits, those huge pendulous Double Ds, and I stroked the flesh sensuously.

  “Daddy want to see?” I purred again. “Daddy want?”

  The answer was instantaneous.

  “Fuck yeah,” Grayson rumbled.
“Fuck yeah, give me a look.”

  Giggling a little, I pulled down on my décolletage, letting my right boob spill out. Holy shit, was I really doing this? Was I really taking off my clothes in front of a man, dancing seductively for him? Was I really here with Grayson Channing, King of the Strip, baring my boobies for him to see?

  But the answer was a resounding yes. Because I wanted it. The way his eyes were glued to my tits felt good, the way his mouth literally dropped open with hunger. My pink crest was hard, stiff and aching, and I plucked at it teasingly.

  “Daddy like?” I cooed. “Daddy like?”

  The big man’s only answer was to swallow thickly.

  “Fuck,” came his grunt. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

  I squeezed and massaged my breast even more, leaning forward so it dangled appetizingly.

  “Oh look,” I giggled once more. “My tit’s moving in time to the music.”

  And it was true. My big boobs were swinging to the left, and then to the right, like they could hear the sensuous samba playing outside.

  But I wasn’t done yet because with a quick flick of my wrist, I popped my other breast out, this time both gazongas hanging pendulously.