Sasha took a deep breath. “Having sex with him doesn’t. But having a prostitute turn up sort of implies it…”
“No!” Kelly cried. Her ruby red lips formed a perfect ‘O’ of surprise. It was a gratuitous sort of surprise though.
Kelly flashed Sasha her tell-me-more expression.
Sasha felt incredibly uncomfortable, but she needed to get it off her chest, and there wasn’t exactly anyone else she could talk to. None of her friends back home would understand. If they couldn’t come to terms with why she broke up with gentle, charming Chris for a career of all things, they’d certainly never understand how she’d ended up face down in the Honeymoon suit of the Hilton whilst a man she’d met barely ten minutes earlier was thrusting inside of her.
Sasha’s pelvic floor clenched at the memory. It really had been fantastic sex. The highest high she’d ever experienced. Followed so quickly with the lowest low.
She gulped. “He had four interviews booked that day. If he was expecting Alicia, then that was at least one shag he was certain to get. Yet, he still booked a fuck with his escort. It was as though he couldn’t go even ten minutes between slots without…”
“Sticking it in a slot,” Kelly replied, crudely, a little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Sorry,” she added. “I couldn’t resist.”
Sasha sighed and shrugged. “Don’t apologize, you’re right.”
Kelly implored her to go on with raised eyebrows and a nod.
Sasha took another deep breath, feeling weirdly like she was in some kind of therapy session. “Okay, so this woman turned up while we were…you know…right in the middle of it. And he practically shoved me out the door.”
“My God.”
Kelly shook her perfectly coiffed hair. Although she was saying the right things, her expression was telling a completely different story. She was reveling in it, in the scandal, in the drama. In some ways, Sasha wasn’t sure why she’d expected anything different from the editor of a magazine like Atomic.
“She was so cheap looking,” Sasha added. “Hair peroxided to within an inch of its life. Breasts out here.” She cupped her arms in front of her chest to iterate the point.
“Let’s not bitch about the hooker,” Kelly said, coolly, while raising an eyebrow. “Your issue is with Thomas, not the woman he has to pay to fuck him.”
“You’re right,” Sasha said. “I’m just lashing out.” She began twiddling her thumbs. “The thing is, Kelly, I’ve only ever slept with one other man.”
Kelly laughed hard. “Are you joking? Oh, Sasha, this would be hilarious if it wasn’t so tragic.”
“I’m glad my pain entertains you.”
Kelly pointed to the printout of the article that sat between them on the table. “Look, you really need to think about this before it goes to print. The press will look into it. They’ll probably interview this other woman. You’re putting yourself at risk with this piece.” She paused, and a wry smile spread across her face. “That said, you’ve written a kick ass bit of journalism here.”
Despite the day she’d had, Sasha felt a little surge of relief. A fragment of the confidence she’d felt before Thomas had crushed her spirit seemed to return.
Kelly consulted her watch. “It’s late. We should go.” She stood, pushing back the cream-colored leather chair. “Sleep on it and let me know in the morning.” She pulled on her jacket. Fur, of course. “Any plans for the evening?”
Sasha thought about her empty flat. She’d been so focused on her studies during college that she’d never really made any great friends. Then she’d headed off for Chicago alone. It hadn’t bothered her before, but now something had changed. Her liaison with Thomas had shown her a whole world she’d been missing out on—one of companionship and intimacy. For the first time in a long time she felt incredibly lonely.
Well, she could do something about that, couldn’t she? Because if there was any positive to be taken from the whole sordid affair, being with Thomas had taught her something important about herself—she could have casual sexual encounters, she could have one-night stands, and she could get what she wanted. And right now, she wanted to fill the void that Thomas’s betrayal had opened inside of her.
“I’m going out,” she said with resolve. “Dancing.”
“Great,” Kelly replied. “Have a fab time. I’m just going home to drink wine and hang out with my cat.” She laughed, wryly. “Oh, I envy the young.” She flashed Sasha a smile. “Let me know in the morning what you want to do.” With that, she left Sasha alone.
Sasha collected her things. I suppose it’s time to get my glad rags on, she thought.
***
An hour later, Sasha was standing awkwardly at the bar in a too-tight dress and too-tall heels, stirring a cranberry and vodka. She hadn’t yet taken a sip but had already been there long enough for the ice cubes to melt.
The lights were dim and the music loud—the perfect cocktail of ingredients for finding a quick fuck. Not that she’d had any luck so far. Maybe what had happened with Thomas had been a fluke? Maybe she wasn’t good at this at all?
Just then, the barman came over and leaned towards her, his elbows resting on the bar. “Been stood up?” he said.
He had a goatee and a sharp, angular jaw. His eyes were dark and slanted, making him appear almost feline-like.
Sasha laughed and stirred the drink with her straw. “Ha. That would imply there was a date to start with.”
“I see,” the barman replied. He looked over his shoulder at the clock. “Well, I have a ten minute break coming up and I know a pretty secluded alley we could go to...”
Sasha’s eyes darted up, alarmed by his blasé attitude. But then, what had she expected? It wasn’t like she was going to meet a Thomas Lloyd every time she wanted a fuck. The average man in a bar didn’t have passionately smoldering eyes, an effortless talent for coercion, millions of dollars in the bank, and a plush hotel room at his disposal. Her stomach dropped, as she realized that the average man wasn’t Thomas Lloyd. That she would never meet anyone with the same magnetism as him. That the best sex of her life had been earlier that day, and she’d never again reach those dizzying heights. Wasn’t Kelly proof of that? She’d been in the business a good thirty years but was alone, with just a cat and bottle of wine to keep her company.
The barman’s hand was resting on hers. “So, what do you say? Ten minutes, then I’ll take you to heaven and back.”
Sasha moved her hand out from under his and let out a little huff. “Does that line ever actually work?”
The barman gave her a look. “Sure.” Then his tone turned hostile. “With the ones who can tell I’m punching below my weight for them....”
“Excuse me?” Sasha said.
The barman shrugged. “You’re hardly a supermodel, lady. And the guys aren’t exactly fighting each other for your ass. Do you want it or not?”
“I think I’ll have to decline your offer,” she said with a sarcastic smile.
“Your loss. And if you want some advice, you could try smiling. No one wants to screw Debby Downer.” He smirked and walked away.
Sasha was fuming, and not just with the barman. She’d been a fool to think she could replicate her experience from this morning. That had been a once in a lifetime moment, something that she would never get to feel again. If it was earth-shattering orgasms she wanted, she certainly wasn’t going to get them hanging around in dingy clubs. And she’d tried the whole being pathetically in love thing, and even that hadn’t come close to the ecstasy of Thomas inside of her.
She decided to go home and turned, leaving her vodka and cranberry sitting on the bar. She wound through the crowd of drunk men and women, coupled up and embracing one another, with roving hands squeezing each other’s flesh and slobbering, desperate mouths. It was such a departure from what she’d had with Thomas—where everything aligned, where their bodies had yielded to each other in perfect symmetry—that she couldn’t help feeling a little sick at the sight.
Thomas had left Sasha aching for sex. Yearning for it. But it turned out that she didn’t want any kind of sex with any kind of person. It had to be him. It had to be his cock she felt inside of her.
Just then, her phone started ringing. She didn’t recognize the number. Probably a stupid sales call.
“What?” she said with a huff.
“Intern.”
She stood stock still. Her heart seemed to leap right into her throat. “Thomas?”
“Yes.”
His voice sent shivers of desire running through her.
“Intern, I—”
“Don’t call me that,” she interrupted.
“Sorry.” He sounded different on the phone. Less cock-sure. “I need to see you.”
Sasha paused. The throbbing desire between her legs was telling her to run to him, but her brain was screaming no. This was a dangerous game. Thomas Lloyd was a drug that she craved. He would get her hooked then leave her with nothing.
“I...” she began, but words failed her. What on earth could she say to the multi-million-dollar actor who, out of all the A-listers in the world he could have called, had decided to call her? Who had just said he needed to see her. Just that word alone made her body spasm with pleasure. “Why?” she finally said.
“I’ll explain later. Are you free?”
Sasha couldn’t help but note the distracted tone he spoke in. An image popped into her mind of a naked Thomas lying on a silk-sheeted, four-poster bed with the skanky Crystal draped across him nibbling his earlobe. She could picture him getting his kicks from arranging his next fuck with a gullible woman while another was already riding him.
Sasha’s resolve kicked into gear. “No,” she replied tersely. “I’m not free. And last time I checked, neither were you.”
He sighed. “I’ve upset you. You’re going to have to give me a clue.”
Though Sasha knew she should end the call there and then, she couldn’t help but keep him on the line. His voice—the soothing, lulling English accent—was arousing her as successfully as his tongue on her clitoris had earlier that morning. Speaking to him was like foreplay. She needed him, even if it was just his voice, just a fraction of what she’d had that morning. Maybe if she kept him on the line, her body would get the dose of Thomas Lloyd it needed in order to satisfy the cravings, to stop the unpleasant yearning of cold turkey.
“A clue?” she said, hoping he couldn’t hear the breathlessness in her voice as she spoke. “You can’t work it out?”
“No,” came his harried, clipped answer. “Can’t you just tell me? I don’t like guessing games.”
A little gasp escaped from Sasha’s mouth. Her insides clenched. The commanding tone of his voice reminded her of earlier that day when he’d demanded she remove her bra. She wanted to talk dirty to him there and then. She wanted to run to that secluded alley the barman had told her about and touch herself to the dulcet tones of Thomas Lloyd’s voice.
But the logical part of her brain was still working. And it kept reminding her that Thomas Lloyd was a player. It kept questioning his motives. Why was he bothering with her at all? Surely, his queue of woman hadn’t run dry on him? Surely, a sex addict like him would have an escort agency on speed dial?
She strode into a dark corner of the club and sat down in the red leather booth. A couple were making out beside her. The girl had ripped fishnet tights, and one leg hitched up across the man’s lap. Platinum blonde hair. Bright red manicured nails. The sight of her reminded Sasha why she had to turn down Thomas Lloyd.
“Crystal,” she said at last.
There was a pause. Then, with an exhalation, Thomas said, “What did she say to you?”
So he wasn’t even going to deny it. “It’s not what she said, Thomas. It’s what she is.”
There was another long pause. Finally, Thomas said, “So you do know how to use Google after all.”
Sasha frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“My sister. The junky porn star. You’ve found out about her and you’re running a mile. I can’t say I blame you….”
“Sister?” Sasha said. “You have a sister? Called Crystal?”
“Yes…Well, no, I have a sister called Olivia, but she goes by Crystal these days.”
Sasha pressed her back against the booth, making the leather squeak. Beside her, the woman straddled the man and the two began dry humping.
But Sasha was paying about as little attention to them as they were to her. She was gob-smacked by Thomas’s revelation. If true, it meant that everything she thought about him was wrong. There was no queue of women. No hookers on speed dial. No sex addiction. But without that, what was she left with? A sexy man who knew how to pleasure her like no one ever had or ever could—who was telling her, of all people, that he needed her…?
She had to get to the bottom of it. She owed her swelling clit that much.
“If she was your sister, why would she tell me she was your escort?”
There was silence on the other end of the phone. “Escort?” Thomas muttered. “That’s a new one.” He sighed audibly. “I shouldn’t be surprised, really. My sister has issues. Well, of course, you can tell she has issues.”
“But what was she doing at your hotel? Didn’t she know you had interviews all day?”
“Crystal doesn’t care about my schedule. When she needs money, she’ll do anything.” His tone had become drenched in anguish. She could hear the pain in it. Crystal turning up at his hotel room had shaken him up as much as it had her.
Beside her, the humping couple had reached a bit of a fever pitch. Sasha realized that they were going to full on start shagging, right there in the dark corner of the night club. The whole thing was throwing her body into overdrive. Thomas’s voice on one end of the phone arousing her, reminding her of his hot breath in her ear, his hard cock inside of her…the revelation that she’d been wrong about him adding a whole new level of wanton desire…the undulating bodies beside her…it was all too much.
She needed sex. She needed Thomas. And now.
“So?” Thomas said. “Will you meet me?”
Sasha bit her bottom lip. “I…”
“... have somewhere better to be?”
She glanced round at the dingy club, at all the people sharing passionate embraces. Then her gaze fell to the barman. He was cleaning a glass, and his angry eyes were fixed on her. It was a dangerous look. He pointed to the clock and sneered. It was time for his break.
“No,” she said finally. “I can meet you.”
“Dinner?”
“Dinner sounds good.”
He gave her an address. “I’m…looking forward to seeing you again,” he finished.
“You, too,” Sasha replied, but her voice was a girlish squeak.
The phone went dead, and she let out a deep breath of air. Then she stood, finding her legs wobbly and barely able to hold her weight. Every nerve was alive with anticipation.
She pushed her way past the bodies of people towards the exit of the club. Just as she started to ascend the steps, a person sidled up to her. The barman.
“Changed your mind?”
She gave him a look. “Not in a million years.”
He glared at her, his face filled with hatred. “Stuck up bitch. Good luck getting laid.”
She swirled out of the club, a smile on her lips. That same Thomas Lloyd magnetism that had led her to his bed was pulling her towards him once again. And if her body had any say in the matter, this night was not going to end at just dinner.
Chapter Three
“I didn’t think I’d hear from you again,” Sasha said, twiddling the fork in front of her.
Across the other side of the table, Thomas’s penetrating gaze was locked on her. It made her feel naked. It made her want to be naked. Sitting through dinner with Thomas was going to be an exercise in self-restraint. It was already taking all her power not to fling herself across the table at him, and they’d only just taken their seats in
the ridiculously posh restaurant.
“Why not?” Thomas said. “I told you I’d call, didn’t I?”
Sasha squirmed in her seat. “I suppose I didn’t believe you.” Because I thought you were a sex addict who used women then tossed them aside. “I mean, it ended rather abruptly earlier,” she said aloud.
A small smile flitted across Thomas’s face. “Yes. Crystal. She has a knack for timing.” He reached out and touched Sasha’s fingers. “She spoiled the momentum. I had so many more things that I wanted to do to you.”
Electricity raced up Sasha’s arm, reminding her of the feeling of Thomas inside of her. She tried to force her blush away and calm her ragged breath. She moved her hand out from under his and picked up her glass.
“Some water would be nice,” she said, craning her head round and looking for a waiter, looking anywhere but at the man who made desire thrum in her breasts.
“You Americans have no patience,” Thomas said. Then he leaned forward and lowered his voice. “We’re not in a rush to get anywhere. Are we?”
Just your bed, Sasha thought.
The waiter arrived with a bottle of water in an ice bucket, and Thomas leaned back, creating some breathing space between them. Sasha took a deep breath. She was feeling suddenly oxygen deprived.
“Thank you,” Thomas said to the waiter. As the waiter left, Thomas poured Sasha a drink. “You really thought I was the kind of man who’d pay for sex?” he said. “You can’t think much of me.”
“I didn’t. At the time.” She thought shamefully of the vitriolic article sitting on Kelly’s desk in the Atomic office.
“And now?”
“Now…well, now that I know you don’t schedule your women for sex, I feel a little warmer towards you.”
Thomas let out a bark of a laugh. He swilled his water in his glass like it was a fine whisky. “So your opinion of me has improved somewhat. That’s good to hear. How can I make you feel more than just luke warm towards me? Because earlier today I would say you were scolding hot. Tepid is a bit of a step down.”
CHASED (A Standalone Billionaire Romance Novel) Page 21
