“And then in the morning, after your contract is complete, I’ll pay you the flat rate of ten thousand dollars.”
She sputters the wine and nearly chokes. “For one night?”
It’s more than twice what a typical escort gets paid, but something tells me she’s worth it.
“Yes, at the hourly rate of one thousand dollars per hour.”
“Oh my God,” she says, not even bothering to hide her shock. She downs the rest of her wine glass in one fell swoop. “When do we start?”
Good. Good girl.
“From the moment I first touched you,” I say, “by contract, which I’ll arrange shortly.” I glance at my watch. “So by my estimation, fifteen minutes ago.”
I check my email on my phone. The contract’s sitting right there, ready for our signatures.
“Read it.” I hold my phone to her. She squints, scrolls, then nods.
“Done and done,” she says.
I should be happy. I’m not. She could hurt herself being so reckless.
“You shouldn’t agree so readily,” I warn her. “What if I were a serial killer?”
I got what I wanted, so why the fuck am I arguing with her?
She blinks, and her cheeks flush pink. “Well I… the agency vets their clients, sir. Right?”
I grunt, scroll through the contract myself, and tap the signature line. It pops up for me to sign, which I do. The contract automatically gets sent to the agency. I shut off my phone.
“Don’t they?” she asks.
“Of course they do.” But what she doesn’t know is I’m rich enough to bypass any screening they have for me. Whatever they’d charge would be a rounding error.
I place my phone on the table and look her over. “More wine?”
She nods. “Please.” She giggles. A lightweight? I’ll take care to not let her drink too much.
I refill her glass and bring it back to her, but I slide it on the table in front of her. She reaches for it, but I cluck my tongue.
“Ah ah, little girl. You ask for permission.”
She bites her lip, and my need grows stronger. “Please, sir? May I?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
Her lower lip juts out, but I shake my head. “No pouting. Pouting is for naughty girls, and naughty girls get a spanking.”
Right over daddy’s lap.
Her nostrils flare and her eyes widen, but she steels herself with a deep breath. “That’s what you meant by permission.”
There’s nothing about her that’s pretense, nothing but honest responses. She doesn’t know it, but it’s so damn gratifying I’d give her anything she asked for right now.
“It is.”
Among other things.
I wait another moment before I give my next instruction.
“You may have your wine, but remember, Katie. You’re on my time now.”
She nods. “Tell me what to do, sir. I’m eager to please you.”
I want to reach for her, drag her onto my lap and kiss her lips until she melts into me, then lay her out and make her come until she arches her back and screams.
But I school myself. I gesture to the glass and nod. “You may have your wine, under one condition.”
“Sir?”
“You’ll drink it naked. Strip for me.”Chapter 3KatieNaked?
What did I expect as my first night as an escort? That I’d come up here and we’d play checkers while I remained fully clothed? That he’d be so enamored by my small talk, my company alone would fulfill any needs he may have?
This man is sex personified, all confidence and grace and power, and he’s even sort of... brooding and angry, like Beauty’s Beast. I want to kiss every inch of his golden skin, run my fingers along the silver that etches his hair and jaw, drag my tongue down—whoa. What am I doing?
My fingers shake as I reach for the glass. “Um… I can do that, let me just have a bit more, first.” A little liquid courage.
My hand freezes halfway across the table, hovering in the air, when I see the look on his face. He’s got one dark brow raised at me, his jaw is clenched, a muscle by his chin twitching with displeasure.
What have I done? Danger, my mind warns, even as my body heats.
I draw my hand back. “Er... or I can take my clothes off first?”
His lips twitch. “You’re learning quickly.”
Something in the way he stares at me, like I’m a prize to be won even though he’s already got me. It’s unnerving, and yet I find it extremely erotic. What luck to be seeking inspiration for my next novel, and to be called upon by this man, a man that oozes sex and power.
Am I crazy? I’ve gone from starving artist to insanity in the space of an evening.
But ten thousand dollars...
The alcohol’s doing its job. Somewhere, in the dim recesses of my mind, I know I should be more nervous than this. But the thought of stripping in front of those hungry eyes of his has my heart hammering and my body trembling with excitement.