When we both came, we’d stared into each other eyes. I’d thought we shared a connection. She was mine.
It had been one hell of a good night. I loved how she rode my face and how she felt when my cock was inside her. It had never felt so right before, like she was made just for me. Her pussy was warm and tight and the memory of it made me hard. Too bad the bitch on my lap thought she was the reason.
“Hey, lover.” The brunette stroked my cock through my jeans. Dressed in a pair of tiny denim shorts and a black bra, her body was gorgeous. I ran my hand down her spray-tanned leg. “You wanna go upstairs?”
Her eyes were glassy and unfocused; she was probably high on something. But she was straight and to the point. I liked that. Yeah, I wanted to go upstairs.
I wanted someone to suck my dick so I didn’t have to jack it myself. Getting rid of my erection with my hand while I stared at the ceiling and thought about Krista and my own stupidity was not nearly as inviting.
“Yeah. But I want a whiskey first.”
Yup, I was going to be a class A motherfuckin’ asshole. The whore and I walked up to the bar. I wanted Krista to see me with this bitch. I wanted her to see what she had lost. I knew Krista didn’t love me. But I wanted her to at least feel disappointment that she had played me and lost. She had lost out on my fucking wallet and I wanted to rub it in her face.
Krista was standing near the taps when we walked up. She still wore her gray sweatshirt and jeans, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. The woman who was hanging off me and rubbing my stomach looked like a troll compared to Krista.
“Whiskey. Double.” I turned to the brunette, waiting for her order.
The woman smiled. “If you’re buying, I’ll have a double too.”
Krista didn’t look at me as she poured our whiskey. Her hands shook as she held the bottle.
Fuck. She wanted me to say something and I didn’t know what should come out of my fucking mouth. When Tina had sold me out, I knew exactly what to yell. But Krista wasn’t pissed off like Tina. I had expected Krista to be angry that her stupid little plan didn’t work.
But she wasn’t pissed at all. She was sad, broken. If I let her explain, I would just take her back and give her another chance to play me. I couldn’t do it. I was up here to work and instead I had fucking fallen in love. I needed to pull my head out of my ass and do my job.
When I reached for my drink, her hand closed over mine. “Please.” Her eyes were red and swollen, as though she had been crying all night. Fucking good. “Let me explain.”
“I’m sure he knows how it works, sweetheart.” The brunette had broken through her fog and grinned at Krista.
Krista flinched at the woman’s comment and snatched her hand away. She stared at me, waiting.
“There’s nothing left to explain.” I shrugged. “There’s just nothing left. Come on, lover.” I made a mockery of those words as I said them to the brunette. “Let’s go.”
I led the dark-haired bitch up the stairs and into my room. It wasn’t much, a queen-sized bed and a single dresser, but it would do.
I didn’t even negotiate when the whore named her price. I didn’t give a shit. I just didn’t want to be alone and thinking about Krista. I took off my cut and draped it over a chair. Sitting on the bed, I let the brunette grind out a lap dance.
For a man, pretty much any attempt at seduction by a hot woman was going to be fucking hot. But not this girl, because she wasn’t Krista. Fuck.
The brunette rubbed her tits on my cock and licked her own fucking nipples, but I was losing interest, fast. “You had too much whiskey, lover?”
“Yeah, baby. Maybe your mouth can fix that for me?”
The last time I had whiskey dick was before I graduated high school. The reason I was practically limp was downstairs serving drinks to a bunch of horny bikers who wanted to fuck her.
The whore unbuttoned my pants and went to work with her mouth. I closed my eyes and it was easier to imagine a blond ponytail bobbing up and down. I imagined grabbing her neck and setting her pace for her while she looked up at me, with tears running down her cheeks.
Fuck.
I pushed the brunette off my cock.
“I can’t do this. Sorry.” I stuffed my shit back into my pants and handed her a wad of money. “Look, it’s all here. Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”
She nodded and stuffed the money into her bra. “Sure, lover. Whatever you want. You mind if I pass out here for a while?”
Chapter Nineteen
Krista
I shoved a plastic cup and paper plate into the garbage bag when I heard footsteps on the stairs. It wasn’t the soft thud of boots on the wooden stairs, but rather the hard click of heels. Acrylic heels.
Asia. At least that’s what she called herself. Her name should be Iowa. Her hair was dyed black, but her accent was straight out of the Midwest. I remembered working with her at the strip club.
She’d disappeared with Colt while I was trying to hold my shit together behind the bar. That was four hours ago and now her hair was matted to one side and her eye makeup was smudged all to hell. She’d been asleep in Colt’s bed.
“Hey, Krista, has a cab pulled up yet?” She sniffed and rubbed her nose. She was still on coke.
“I haven’t heard anyone honking.” I shrugged and continued my cleaning.
Asia flopped on one of the couches and took her shoes off. I sympathized with her. I often took off my tall shoes when I was behind the bar. Of course, then I remembered that she had just fucked Colt. At least he had paid her and I knew it didn’t mean anything. I’d always have that one night with him, unpaid.
“He didn’t know you turned tricks, huh?”
I shrugged. There was no point in playing dumb. “Guess it doesn’t really matter now, does it?”
A taxi horn honked. Thank god she was leaving. The absolute last thing I wanted to do tonight was talk to the woman who had just screwed my man. The universe was cruel. The man I loved wanted a whore, but not me. He may be a fucking hypocrite, but I still wanted him.
“It could still work, ya know. You and him.”
I wanted to ask Asia how she knew that. Did he say something while they were together? Did he ask about me? Did he cry out my name while she was making him come?
She put on her shoes and stood. “You screwed up, but you guys can make it work. Carrie’s guy lets her still turn tricks—he just keeps a little bit of the earn.”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s not my pimp.” I went back to shoving cups full of stale beer into my black plastic bag. “Your cab is waiting. You’d better get out there before your ride wakes the guys up.”
A longer car horn blared, and Asia turned to leave.
The guys were always talking about trust. Their logo had something Latin about never betraying a brother’s trust. I hadn’t been in the biker world long, but I knew Colt felt the same way. Betrayal was death, and I had just killed our budding relationship. Then he had given up and betrayed me, what we had.
I finished cleaning. It was time to go home, see my kid. This job as a hooker, it was just temporary. I didn’t belong here, and I sure as hell didn’t belong with Colt or anyone else wearing a black leather cut.
I was going to make something of myself. I didn’t need this shit. I had some money stashed. Becky and I could make it for a little while.
Grabbing a blank sheet of paper off Tate’s printer, I wrote him a note and left it on the big meeting table.
Tate—
I quit. 2 weeks notice starts today. Can’t do it anymore.
Krista
Tate knew I was planning on leaving, so two weeks’ notice wasn’t going to be a hardship for him. He could easily find someone else.
My car was cold. The icy vinyl seat felt good as I put my
forehead on the steering wheel. I had a bit of money in the bank, enough for Becky and me to get through a couple of months with no job. We would be okay. I’d have to cancel the dance lessons, but we would survive. I had my degree now, I could find a job. Time to ratchet up the search.
I’d cried at the club. Any time I could steal away, I ended up in the storage room where I cried so fucking hard that I had to gulp for air. Then I would take some deep breaths and go back to the bar. The guys all thought I had some nasty allergies. Yeah, I was allergic to being dumped.
No one ever made me feel the way Colt did. I wanted to be with him, not just for more amazing sex, but also just to have dinner, make Becky’s lunch. I wanted to share my grandma’s tiny crackerjack house with him. It would have been perfect.
Except I had screwed up my perfect life before it had even started.
* * *
Becky and I walked to school as usual. It was pouring, so we didn’t stop to save the worms. They had to save themselves as we ran through the puddles in an effort to get to school on time.
Once Becky was settled, I headed over to the bank. Rent was due and it was always easier to pay with a cashier’s check. That way I knew the money had already been taken out and there was no waiting for the check to clear. I stood in line and made it up to the counter.
“I’m sorry, miss, there’s nothing in either account.”
The teller must be new. I wrote down my account number again and handed it to her on a slip of paper.
“It’s this account. There’s a savings account and a checking account.”
“Yes, miss.” The girl was being disturbingly polite. “I looked up the account and it looks like Mr. Tracten removed all of the cash yesterday.”
My heart stopped. No one called Robby “Mr. Tracten.”
“There are two names on the account, yours and his. It was his choice to remove all of the money yesterday.”
I grabbed the counter so I wouldn’t fall over. When we split up, I stole his debit card from him so he couldn’t clean me out. I didn’t think to remove his name from the account. Damn it.
“I have no money.” My heart thumped hard as it resumed beating. “How do I get it back?”
The teller blinked at me and then answered, “His name was legally on the account. He was allowed to take out as much as he wanted.”
Somehow I stumbled from the bank out to my car. Rubbing my hands over my sore eyes, I tried to think of what to do. Fuck. I couldn’t go demand Robby give back the money. Whatever shit he was into was deep and would end up killing him. I didn’t want it to kill me too.
I had no choice—there was only one thing to do. I would have to turn tricks until my two weeks were up.
Last night I had decided that I couldn’t turn tricks anymore and it wasn’t because my ass was getting too big or because I was getting wrinkles. It was because having sex for money hurt. I wanted to have sex for love.
Sex and love and caring, it was all wrapped up together. Colt might hate me, but two nights ago he didn’t, and we made love. It wasn’t sex, it wasn’t a quick fuck. It was the physical act of love.
The world is so fucking unfair. After being married, having a kid, and being a whore, I finally knew what it was to love and be loved and make love. But now I had to go back to quickies in the back room when I could no longer separate love and sex.
I cranked the Honda to life and drove home. Staring at my closet, I planned out my outfit for work. Becky was gone, so I cried some more and stared at the goddamn dominatrix outfit I had laid out. I wanted to tear the fucking thing up. I didn’t want to be someone’s fantasy—I wanted to be someone’s reality.
I couldn’t tear up the stupid vinyl dress because I needed it to work, so I threw it. Against the wall, against the dresser, against the closet door, back to the wall. That dress made a lot of trips across the bedroom, each one ending in a loud thwack as the vinyl and grommets hit the wall.
After picking up Becky, we practiced her dance routine. We read a couple of books and ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner. It was a typical night, but inside I felt like a hurricane. The winds and rain and lightning blew my emotions everywhere. Becky was six, so she didn’t really notice. I was able to keep my face in check as we played, but the inside of me was a level-four disaster.
After our evening ended, I took Becky over to Señora Lopez’s. I should have told the elderly woman that our arrangement was going to be changing pretty soon, but I just didn’t have the courage to do it. I needed every ounce of courage and confidence for tonight, because I needed to make money. Fast.
Chapter Twenty
Krista
I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my little room at the clubhouse. The skirt on my red vinyl dress was sticking out oddly to one side, probably from being thrown around the room earlier. I rummaged through the dresser, looking for another outfit.
Really, I was stalling. I didn’t want to go down to the party and I sure as hell didn’t want to have sex with anyone. Well, anyone except Colt.
My reflection still looked the same, but I was different on the inside. Would it be like my first time again? My first time turning a trick had been pretty awful. I started crying halfway through, but it turned out the guy liked that. Got him off faster when he knew I didn’t want to be there. I cringed.
Things were so different with Colt. He wanted to be with me, and not just the me that I presented to the world in my slutty getups. He wanted to talk to me and have sex with me. He wanted to love me.
Or at least he had before he discovered I was a whore.
Fuck him. I squared my shoulders. If he couldn’t deal with the truth, then he was no better than the other johns. I was still me, no matter who had been between my legs.
Staring at myself in the mirror one last time, I nodded. The red would be fine. I could do this.
Someone knocked on my door.
Clint stood in the hallway. “Hey, baby.” I smiled and leaned on the doorjamb. “You looking for a date tonight?”
Clint wasn’t a regular, but he’d come around a few times. Enough times that I’d learned what he liked. I didn’t let him kiss me, but he liked it when I pretended to be in love with him and enjoy myself.
We negotiated a bit on price, but finally settled just above the going rate.
“You have a room for the night?” I asked, running my hand down his body.
Nothing, I felt nothing. If I ran my hand down Colt’s body, I would have reacted. But I was cold. I didn’t need arousal to have sex, though. I had some lube and was ready to go.
He shook his head and whispered, “I thought we could do it here. In the hall?”
Damn. Public settings were usually more money. If the guys wanted the pool table or the couch downstairs, they had to pay for the privilege. I bit my lip. I didn’t think he’d go for it if I upped my price, and I couldn’t afford to lose the cash.
I looked around. The hallway was empty. At least I could get through it fast. There would be no pretense; I wouldn’t have to pretend I loved him.
“All right.” I nodded and slipped my arms around his shoulders.
We did a little bump and grind up against the wall before we moved over to a tiny table that usually held extra towels. Really, though, it was my sex table. It was damn hard having sex up against a wall, and just that little support under my ass made it easier. I had a few tables for just that purpose stashed around the clubhouse.
When he was ready, I handed him a condom. I’d lathered up with lube in my room, like a prostitute’s version of a Boy Scout: be prepared. He popped his dick in and started to go.
Business as usual. I could do this.
I moaned a couple of times and caressed Clint’s neck and chest. “Do you like that?” he asked.
“Oh yeah
,” I lied. “So much, baby.”
No, I didn’t like it. I wanted to cry out. I wanted his hands, his mouth, his dick to all belong to another man. I wanted Colt. I wanted to feel like I did the other night—loved. Cherished. Needed.
I heard a faint click in the distance. Clint’s eyes were closed as he pumped away, so I scanned the hall. If we had a watcher, I might end up with another client later.
There was someone standing in a doorway, watching. Colt.
Our eyes met and my world went upside down. It was Colt pumping against me in the shitty hallway of the clubhouse. His gray eyes held mine as he stroked in and out of my body. Little bits of fire shot up from between my legs to my lower back.
Tearing my eyes away from his, I leaned my head against the wall and let my orgasm build. He reached up and pinched my nipple. My eyes flew open again and Colt held my gaze as I let myself go. He jerked against me as we went over the cliff.
I stopped panting and opened my eyes, looking for him. But he was gone. The door to his room was closed and I was sitting on the little table in the hallway, with Clint.
I sat up and adjusted my skirt, looking up and down the hall. Had Colt really been there? Or was I just imagining him to get through fucking Clint? I wasn’t sure.
Clint stuffed his now limp dick back in his pants and leaned against the wall. “Hey, do I get a discount since you liked it so much?”
I rolled my eyes. I’d heard that about a zillion times; I was pretty good at faking an orgasm. Except this one wasn’t fake. In my fucked-up head, I had been with Colt and my body had responded.
“Sorry, baby.” I held my hand out for the cash.
Clint grinned. “Gotta try.”
I counted the bills and stuffed them into my bra. Clint said goodbye and headed downstairs, leaving me sitting on the little table. I climbed down and walked over to Colt’s room. The door was closed and the lights off. Had he been there? I raised my hand to the knob. Did I really want to know?
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