My chest tightens and I chew the inside of my lip. Maybe dating is a bad idea, but he keeps me feeling wholesome and happy and doesn't demand a lot. He's like that laidback friend who just happens to be a boyfriend at the same time.
He's my sense of normalcy.
Just as we're about to make our way down the subway stairs and part ways, I see a young, skittish girl leaning against a dirty wall with a Styrofoam cup next to her.
I feel bad for her. She can't be more than seventeen.
Stopping a few feet from her, I reach into my purse and take out a couple of bills. I hope she uses the money to get a hot meal or maybe find a place to sleep, but judging by her looks, her first stop might be to score some drugs.
As I close my bag, Daniel places a hand over mine. He turns toward me and I look up at him and meet hard eyes.
"Don't give her money," he says firmly.
My brows furrow and I'm instantly annoyed at being told what not to do. Exhaling through my nose, I try not to overreact. I understand why he's against giving cash to the homeless. It's drilled into our heads at a young age to never give money to the needy on the streets, but I can't help it. I've always done it when I could, and now I try to do even more.
"I always give money back."
"That's not giving money back, Aubrey, that's feeding an addiction. She's just going to run and get high. If you want to give it back, donate to a church."
My eyes lower. "I don't donate to churches. They're corrupt."
"Then give to a homeless shelter, not the riffraff on the streets. At least the money is being used honestly in shelters."
"What if I can be the one to change her mind?"
He shakes his head, his voice hard. "You won't be, and you know I'm right."
He could be right, but I still have to try.
Daniel exhales a strenuous breath and concedes. "I won't tell you what to do with your money, but I wish you wouldn't do this. She's young enough to get a job. She's just lazy."
Stepping around him, I bunch the money up in my hand and walk up to the girl with wild hair dressed in all black. No one knows what she's doing or thinking, but maybe she isn't going to get high. Maybe she won't run back to a pimp and give it to him. Maybe she's collecting it to get a bus ride out of New York, the city that will eat you alive if you don't know how to fight back.
Our eyes meet and she looks at me with anxious, brown orbs. I instantly feel worried for her because she doesn’t seem like the typical homeless who sleep on the street and are hooked on drugs, and because she's so young and impressionable. She has a chance. I've never lived on the streets, but Grammy came awfully close to being evicted a few times. I guess I have a soft heart and don't wish a hard life on anyone, especially young kids.
I get close enough and reach out, her hand already open. I place a few hundred dollars in her dirty palm, but she won't know that until I leave because she sure as shit isn't going to count her money in public.
"You're better than this," I say softly. She nods, and I sense she knows I’m right. At least I hope she does.
Stepping back, I take Daniel's hand and we walk down the stairs to catch the trains going our separate ways. It smells like urine underground and there's even more homeless in here who are just trying to stay warm and make it to the next day. I'm not naive. I know most are hooked on drugs and will run to get their next fix if given a few hundred dollars. I sigh inwardly. While I understand why he's against it, it rubs me the wrong way that he would try and stop me from giving money to a young girl. It wasn't like I was trying to give cash to an obvious meth head. I try to find the ones who look like they still have a fighting chance, or the ones who truly have no other option than to be on the streets. Besides, it’s nobody’s business but my own what I do with my money.
Thirty
"Shit. Shit. Shit," I say, barging into my apartment. I drop everything on the counter and run to my room in a panic.
"What's wrong?" Natalie says, walking into my room.
I turn around and look her up and down. "You're here?"
She grimaces. "I woke up feeling like shit, so I skipped classes today. I really wasn't in the mood to trek through the snow either. Why aren't you in class right now? This is so unlike you."
I start shuffling through my pint-size closet, shoving clothes back and forth.
"Christine texted me in the middle of class. She's offering fifteen thousand for a new client."
Natalie frowns. "That seems like an awful lot for just one guy."
"I thought so too, but I didn't ask. I never do. I figured he's got some weird ass kink. I've never gotten paid this much for one job before. How could I say no? Nat, I could take Grammy on a Caribbean cruise and get her out of the cold for a couple of weeks. Maybe that will help clear up her cough. I’ll tell her I won a trip or something."
She chuckles and my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. I grab it and read a text from Daniel.
"Shit."
"What's wrong now?"
"It's Daniel. He's confirming our date, but I need to cancel. What do I—"
"Grammy emergency," Nat offers.
I text it out and drop my phone, not waiting for a response. I look at Natalie, and she's already standing beside me peering into my closet.
"So tell me, what do you need help with?"
I pull out a black two-piece—a lacy push-up bra with matching bikini panties. I decide I'll wear thigh high lace stockings and garters. I look at her and place my ensemble on my bed.
"If you're feeling sick, you can lie down."
"Shut up and tell me."
"Do my hair while I do my makeup?"
Just under two hours later, I'm in Midtown walking into Baccart Hotel, and taking the elevator up to the penthouse suite. I'm being paid for the next four hours. I've yet to do a job this long, not counting James, and get paid fifteen grand for it. I’m a little edgy not knowing what to expect. I just know I don't want to fuck up.
Coconut oil. Throat spray. Percocet. Vodka.
I'm good to go.
What every working girl's arsenal requires.
Exhaling a slow breath, I try to remain calm as the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open. I pull off my gloves and fold them into my purse, then walk to the end of the hall. Christine told me the door would be unlocked and to walk right in.
I step into the massive suite that's cloaked in darkness. The blinds are at half-mast and the lights from the surrounding skyscrapers create an elegant glamour that lures me in. The aroma of vanilla coats the room, and there are orchids on every counter. Large white tiles, white bed sheets with a dramatic canopy, and a stunning crystal chandelier hang in the center of the room. I can hear the shower running and decide to pour a drink and wait for my new client.
Stepping up three stairs, I walk into the lounge room and come to a halt.
My heart drops and I gasp quietly. There's someone already sitting in the corner with a drink in his hand. He twirls it, and the ice clinks against the glass. I can't see his face, but his legs are crossed and his black shoes gleam in the dark. There's a subtle sent of cologne that's so alluring I feel the attraction in my chest.
"You're a hard woman to track down, Valentina," the voice says, sending an all-consuming shiver down my spine.
James.
I swallow hard and walk over to him, trying to steady my racing heart. I'm both impatient for his touch but uneasy by how it will make me feel.
Stepping closer, light from the window casts a soft glow over his handsome face, and our eyes meet. He's wearing a slate gray crisp dress shirt that oddly accentuates his matured age.
My lips part with a sigh and I sober up as much as I can, even though my body immediately stirs with hunger each step I take closer to him.
"James. A pleasure to see you."
"Yes, it sure is a fucking pleasure," he says, raking a heated gaze up the length of my body. "Tell me, why have you refused to see me?"
I blink, clearing away my Au
"What do I have to pay to be your only client?"
I bite the inside of my lip and walk back over to him in my four-inch heels. I place my glass down on the table between his chair and mine. Unbuckling my belt, I remove my coat and place it over the arm of the chair. His eyes flare then lower, and he unwinds and leans back, all the while staring at me like I’m a five-star meal and he’s a starving man. I melt a little inside, loving how he stares at me.
"Getting right to the point?" I smirk and sit down.
He seems so relaxed and calm, but I can feel his tension, his desire, and yet he's as smooth as the jazz softly playing in the background.
"Since you hid from me, yes. Give me a number and it's yours. I want you, Valentina. For my own. I'm willing to pay any amount. Want to do it privately and not through Sanctuary Cove? Even better. Name your terms and I'll sign a contract. I’ll draw up the papers myself. You want a monthly stipend? A condo in SoHo? The rest of your tuition paid for? Name it. There's nothing I can't make happen when I want something, and God, do I want you."
My heart skips a beat. I take a deep sip and look at him over the rim, allowing the pungent alcohol smell and taste to coat my throat. His words get to me, but I remember this is an illusion we give each other and nothing more. Still, I love that he wants me so bad. I love that he's willing to do whatever it takes to keep me. I love that we've yet to have sex and I've seduced him to his knees.
"Who else is here?" I ask casually. At least I tried to.
"A partner from my firm, a good friend of mine. He's the one who introduced me to Sanctuary Cove over the summer. When Christine kept telling me you were unavailable, I had him call soon after and try to schedule you. Imagine my shock when he books you on the same date I was told you had filled."
"You're slick," I say, and he puts his hands out, as if to say he’ll resort to any means necessary to get what he wants.
He's proud and I can't fault him for that. I stare at him for a moment, trying to decide which angle to go with his statement. He's aggravated that his friend got through and he didn't.
"So we're having a three-way," I state. Wouldn’t be my first time, but now it would be as Valentina.
"No, sweetheart, we're not," he says, and I frown and angle my head. "I'm going to watch you."
My lips part with a small gasp and his words heat the blood in my veins. My cheeks flame with want. I've never done that before, but the thought alone excites me.
"You're going to watch me fuck your friend?"
His eyes darken. James likes the idea. I just hope his friend is as attractive as James or otherwise it might be difficult for me to stay in the moment.
"Do you have a problem with that?" he asks, challenging me.
I shake my head. "You know I don't. So you're not going to touch me at all?"
"I didn't say that." He downs the rest of his drink and places it on the table. His gleaming wedding band catches my eye and I wonder why he wears it on appointments like this. "Come here."
My heart drops but I stand and take a few steps until I'm in front of him. Without waiting for him to tell me what he wants, I take the lead and climb onto his lap, pressing my body to his, kissing him hard. I knew James wouldn't be able to refuse me, and he doesn't. He fists my hair and grips my hips hard. I taste the expensive liquor on his tongue and suck his lips a little harder. His hips thrust, forcing me to grind into him.
This is exactly what I was trying to stay away from, this intensity between us, the way he holds me with fierce passion, how I moan into his mouth, how his touch paints my body with craving. How I can't seem to concentrate when I'm with him. I don't have to guess if James feels the same way. It's clear that he does.
He breaks our kiss, breathing hard into me. I'll have to tell Christine after this night that James can’t be my client ever again. I'll have to give up everything he's offering, but I'm okay with that.
"Why do you want me so bad?" I ask, short of breath.
"A few reasons. I think you're the type who needs a man to take the wheel and fuck you the right way. I can tell you think too much. Sex has always been an effort for you, and it's the one place it shouldn't be. Outside, on the streets, you're a woman with no filter who can hold herself up to anyone, which I fucking love, but in bed, I think you need someone to make you forget your name. I can do that. I want to be that man for you. Between the sheets, you should be saying, 'Yes, please, more, harder'—my fucking name and nothing else."
"Should I say, ’Yes, Daddy,’ too?" I ask innocently with doe eyes.
He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back, and I smile.
"See? This is why I want you. Little shit like that gets to me. You get to me, Val. You make me feel good."
I avert my gaze and look down. I'm feeling a little shy with the way he looks at me. All I did was act like myself, and he doesn't mind. Not even Daniel sees this side of me.
I hear the shower turn off and the nervousness is back. Leaning down, I place a gentle kiss just under his ear. His hand holds the back of my head as he sinks a little deeper into his chair. A door opens and his friend steps out of the bathroom.
"Thanks for getting me warmed up," I whisper. "Sometimes the vodka and Percs aren't enough. But you, James, will always be enough," I say, then turn around to sit on his lap, feeling his obvious erection against my ass.
Thirty-One
I’m purposely swiveling my hips seductively slow on James’s lap. He grabs me, digging his fingers into my flesh and pushing me down hard on his cock. I sigh inwardly, my body already so hot with need. I know he said we aren't having sex—and I'm glad we're not—but I still want to make him feel good.
I take that back. It's not just about making him feel good. I want him to crave me. I want to seduce him until he's the one begging for me.
Really, I want to tease the fuck out of him. The thought of doing so fills me with adrenaline.
"So, this is the girl you've been raving about?" James’s friend says eagerly as he walks over to us with just a towel around his hips.
He's not unattractive, but he's definitely not the man behind me. I don't ask his name, it's irrelevant really, and I stand up to greet him.
"I hope all good things," I say cheekily.
James’s hands find my hips. Fingers pressing into me again, he leans in and gives me the softest kiss above my ass.
"Only the kind of things a man wants to hear."
I'm not sure what that means, but since I've only given James a blowie, I assume that's what he means. Reaching forward, I move his hand and unravel the towel, allowing it to drop in a heap to the floor. I look down at his length already covered with a condom and make a face of wow with my lips. Men, they're so easy to understand.
He's not huge, thankfully, but a really good size. At least I'll be able to walk tomorrow.
"You ready for tonight? James is going to instruct me on what to do, and you're going to listen."
I feign a purr in the back of my throat. "Ready as I'll ever be. You guys do this often? Tag team?"
He doesn't answer. He threads his fingers through my hair and pulls me in for a kiss. The kiss is a bit sloppy, but I think it's because I can taste some type of liquor on his tongue.
I reach for him, stroking his already hardened length. He thickens in my palm and I rub him a little harder, his hips surging forward. He palms my breasts that are barely covered by my demi bra and steps closer. I tease him with my tongue, my kiss, the fake moan I unleash on him. Behind me, I feel James stand. I hear his belt come undone and the button of his pants.
Much to my surprise, his hand slips around my hip to my sex and his cock nudges my ass cheeks. His body is radiating heat through his clothes and I want so badly to lean back into him, to feel him, but I don't. He drags my hair to the side and his mouth is on the curve of my neck, kissing me softly, lapping his tongue in a sensual circle.
I've had threesomes before, but doing them while being Valentina is proving to be difficult. I know I need to make sure the clients come first, but I’m already hot and bothered from having these two men—having James—touching me.
I forget I’m kissing his friend as James’s hand slides into the front of my panties and finds my clit. The cuff link on his shirt is cool and it shocks my skin as he rubs my pussy. I shift in my stance, giving him access, which is a huge mistake. His fingers slide through my bare seam and feels my wetness. I moan, then gasp loud enough for them both to hear me. Teeth score my flesh and I stroke his friend harder, faster, trying not to focus on James’s attentive fingers.
"She's fuckin' soaked, Reece," James says.
Now I have a name to put with the cock.
James slides two fingers into my wet pussy and I flex around them, my back arching and my ass rearing into his hot waiting cock. There's barely any place to move with how close we're standing. James’s thumb circles my clit and I quickly feel an orgasm rising. I panic because I can't come yet, and I don't know how to stop him when a thought pops into my head.
Reaching behind me, I grip his thick cock and give it a nice squeeze. James groans under his breath. He's as hard as steel and hot as a flame. His fingers stop and his forehead drops to the back of my neck and he breathes hot air across my skin. James slaps my hand away and breaks my kiss with Reece to kiss me.
I lean back, angling my face toward James, as Reece reaches behind my back and undoes my bra with skilled fingers.
My breasts spill over and it feels so good, freeing. I purposely bought a smaller bra to appear bigger, not that I really needed to with my full Cs.
Reece leans down and tugs a nipple into his mouth and I release a real sigh, my back bowing. He sucks hard enough to leave a bruise and I like it. Soft touches are too tame for me, and now my head is a hazy mess of lust because all I can focus on is Reece’s tongue twirling circles around my sensitive bud. I don't know who's palming my other breast and who's playing with my clit and fingering me. All I know is that I'm sandwiched between two men and falling into a dark cavernous pit of pleasure, lust, and sinful desires. I'm so focused on where they're touching me that my mind simmers to rest and I'm left with nothing but feeling.
-->
