There is no doubt in my mind that Finn probably has a barrage of women at his disposal, but he’s here, approaching me without knowing how much I hate him and everything that he stands for. He has the life that people like me can only dream about. Even with the money he’s offering I’ll never be on his level.
“You’ll want sex?” I ask, knowing the answer, but I want to hear it.
“Of course. I’m attracted to you and you’ll be paid very well.”
“I find it hard to believe you have to pay for sex.”
He laughs and adjusts the way he’s sitting. “You’re right, but I know that at the end of the week you’ll leave. It’s like a paid guarantee that you won’t call me next week, asking to hook up.”
The compliment is backhanded, but he’s right. I won’t call him. After this week he’ll regret offering me the money.
“I really don’t like you,” I tell him so he knows what he’s getting himself into.
“That’s fine, I don’t much like you or your profession. But you’re pretty and have a rocking body. I can use that to my advantage when I’m meeting with potential investors. And like I said, no strings. So we can hate on each other, fuck like rabbits and we’ll both benefit on the financial end.”
“Thirty thousand.”
“Done.” He sticks his hand out and I shake it as my stomach rolls. I sold my body and pride for thirty K. I guess everyone does have a price.
6
Finn
I’m emotionless as she follows me out of the room. When I blurted out that I had a proposition for her earlier, sex never crossed my mind. I simply wanted to help her because she looked so lost after losing the money, and judging by the way she was dressed, she could’ve used the cash. I won’t deny that I’m attracted to her. Hell, half the men in the room were watching her. She’s a beautiful woman, despite her profession. I can’t imagine what she’d look like if she were dressed in something more flattering and not a fucking thong.
But, the moment I saw her tits, visions of my dick fucking them flooded my mind. I could easily see her with her chocolate-colored hair and copper skin spread out on my white sheets with sweat pebbling her skin as her back arched off the mattress due to the work my tongue was doing on her pussy. I would do things to her that I never even knew existed when I was eighteen.
And now I’m going to make sure that little fantasy plays out because there is no way in hell I’m going to be able to sit in the same room, limo or space as her and not want to know how she’d feel wrapped around my dick. Screwing her when I was eighteen and inexperienced seems like a speed bump now that I’ve seen her again.
“Wear that robe out of here. I don’t want anyone else looking at you.”
She blanches, but I don’t give a fuck. As of right now I own her. I pull my phone out, reading through the messages Lamar sent me while I was busy negotiating the deal. He’s cleaned out her locker and paid her fee for the night, clearing the way for her to leave with me. I let him know we’re coming out, but more important, he has to get some information from her, like her fucking name, because for the life of me I can’t remember it.
She’s in. I need her name.
I pocket my phone, not interested in seeing his response. I’d like to see him name every person he’s ever met or slept with. My bet is that he can’t, nor would he even try.
Lamar sees us coming toward him and stands. I’m tall, but this fucker is taller. He follows us out and into the waiting limo.
“I need to get my things,” she says, taking the seat farthest away from me.
“Lamar already took care of that.”
Her mouth drops open and she tries to act like she has some bit of authority here by saying, “What?”
I ignore her, not willing to engage in trivial bullshit about what few belongings she had in her locker.
“Where do you live?”
“I’m staying off the Strip.” She states the address and Lamar has the driver head toward there. I don’t know why I assumed she lived here, but the fact that she doesn’t makes this deal even sweeter. Once she leaves, all ties will be severed and I won’t have to worry about running into her.
“Fill these out.” Lamar hands her a nondisclosure agreement to sign. It’s standard, but also something that I don’t usually have a lot of the women I date sign. This situation calls for it, though. The last thing I want is the negative publicity I’d receive if she were to go to the papers. No one needs to know that I’m paying for sex or for dates when they all know I don’t need to. And I have no doubt she’d forget to tell the press the exact reason why I offered her what I did to begin with.