Her voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “The woman in the poem…” she muses. “Was she being coy or careful? Many people toss caution to the wind, surrender to passion, and regret it later.”
I couldn’t care less about Marvell’s mistress. I’m fighting the urge to pick this girl up, carry her over my shoulder to the nearest bed, and bury myself inside her. I can’t remember the last time, if ever, a woman got me this hot without even a touch.
Calm down. “You’re absolutely right,” I reply. “Though only my brother would find a hooker who talks poetry on the job.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, she chokes on her drink. Momentarily setting aside my desire, I hurry to the bar and return with a glass of water. “Here.” I take her brandy and give her the water. “Drink this.”
She takes a few sips without looking at me. Why is she so quiet? I know little about hookers, but the women who usually share my bed go out of their way to show me how intelligent and sophisticated they are. I watch her for a moment as she looks everywhere but at me, then I reach down and take her free hand in mine. It’s small and soft, and at the contact, there’s that jolt again.
“Are you okay?”
She wets her lips with a quick flick of her tongue, and I can barely stop myself from groaning.
“I’m fine.” A small, humorous smile touches her lips. “I drank it too fast, but I’m fine.”
“Good.” I take the water from her and set it down on the coffee table. “What’s your name?”
“Rachel.”
Rachel, I repeat in my mind. It suits her. “I’m Landon.”
She gives me another smile, and a tiny dimple dances on her right cheek. It’s insanely cute, and I resist the urge to brush it with my fingers.
“Did Aidan tell you it was my birthday?”
There’s a pause. “Yes.”
“What are your rates?”
She hesitates again, and I understand why. It’s bad manners to ask the value of a gift, after all, but I’d like to know.
“It’s…um, it’s already been taken care of.”
“Of course, but tell me anyway.”
She does, and it’s an impressive sum. “My brother is being very generous,” I say with a chuckle. My eyes roam over her face, the luminous eyes, full lips, and smooth skin. She’s almost too perfect. I breathe. “So…what do I get for that?”
“The whole night,” she replies.
My fingertips tingle in anticipation. “Anything I want?”
Her voice is a whisper. “Anything you want.”
Perfect. I get to my feet, unable to wait any longer. “Follow me.”
I head up the stairs to one of the guest bedrooms. It’s not until we’re already there that I realize how ill-equipped I am for an encounter with a prostitute. I usually keep my rendezvous with women away from this apartment, mainly because of the memories it holds. What that means, is that if she doesn’t have condoms, I’ll end up having sex with my hand.
I turn to her. “You have condoms?”
At first, I think she’ll say no. Disappointment floods my insides, but then she retrieves a roll from her purse and hands them to me.
I toss them on the bed before lowering myself into an armchair by the dresser. I’m trying my best to stay cool, but I’m aching to tear off her clothes and fuck her till my lust is sated.
She’s still waiting by the door, and I motion for her to come inside. When she’s a few feet from me, I raise a hand to stop her.
“Take off your clothes.”
Slowly, she unzips her dress while my whole body tightens in anticipation. Under the dress are panties and a black lace bra. Her breasts are full, her belly flat. Her legs in her high heels are long and perfectly shaped, and I can already imagine them wrapped around my waist.