Sizzle Page 2

  “Elegant Escorts, how may I help you?” a sexy voice answers. Reanna sounds nothing like she looks. She weighs about three hundred pounds, but her voice is pure wet dream material. She’s also very good with matching men to the perfect lady. Even so, I prefer to go through Madison because it irks her, and right now I need a little cheer in my day.

  “This is Gomez. Would you please connect me with Madison?”

  “Yes, Mr. Gomez. One moment,” she replies dripping sensuality.

  It’s about twenty seconds before Madison answers. “Mak here.”

  “Hi, Mad, how’s it hangin’?”

  Her irritated sigh heightens the smile on my face. “Mad is worse than Madison and you know it. I need to start calling you Gom.”

  “You know I won’t call you Mak, so get over yourself,” I tease. Mak is a badass name for a badass woman who’s an ex-cop. I won’t deny that Kick-ass should be her middle name. Pushing her buttons is too much fun, though. “I’m cutting your tantrum short, sweet cheeks. I’m heading to the Lincoln and I’d like you to arrange some company.”

  She doesn’t hesitate. “The other matter is settled, then?”

  She’s asking about the tail and knows there’s always a chance her business phones are tapped. She’ll need to talk to Moon in person for details, but I can at least answer this part. “Yea, but nothing has changed’ we’re still on alert.”

  “Okay.” She doesn’t speak for a minute and I’m wondering what else she wants to ask. “I have a new hire and I’m not sure about her. I need some inside feedback. Would you do this one as a favor?”

  The last thing I need when I’m in my current mood is a newbie, but it doesn’t change my answer. “Sure, Mad, anything for my little sister.”

  She laughs. “You’re a cad and you know damn good and well your sister would kill you if she knew what you were asking for.”

  I ignore most of her comment. “I believe you used the word ‘cad.’ You’re not reading Thomas Harding again are you?”

  Her laugh rings even louder in my ear. “Literary thugs should be against the law.”

  “No worries, I made that up. Never read Harding in my life.” I actually tried to but thought him quite boring. “I need you to hurry with my request if you get my drift. We’re pulling into the Lincoln parking lot right now.”

  “One hour,” she tells me.

  We end the conversation, and I step out of the Caddy and make my way to the front desk with a small overnight bag. I take a suite for the night, though I’ll only be staying until my dick and balls are sucked. That’s what I prefer from an escort. I pay them good money to choke on my cock.

  Chapter Two

  Celina

  I’M A NERVOUS WRECK and my palms are sweaty. That should go over quite well with a client. Not! Madison Moon, or Mak, as she prefers to be called, saw through my bravado. I left the interview at Elegant Escorts with little hope that I’d land the job. It shows how far my life has sunk into a steaming pile of manure that I cried when she called and asked me when I could start. I need this job desperately, and now I’m on my way to my first experience as a paid whore.

  I’m dressed in a conservative business suit with a black pencil skirt that goes to my knees. The cut of the jacket is tailored to my shape; it’s the same one I wore to the job interview a few days ago. It’s also the only suit I own. I got lucky at a local thrift store and bought it for twenty bucks. It’s short sleeved, the necessary choice for an Arizona summer. The white silk blouse beneath is buttoned to my throat and not the greatest for the heat. I was told to wear office business attire so I wouldn’t attract attention in one of Phoenix’s oldest hotels.

  My cheap heels click against the shiny tile as I make my way to the front desk.

  “I have an appointment to meet with Mr. Gomez,” I tell the desk clerk.

  “Your name?” she asks with a flick of her head that whips her hair over her shoulder. She’s a pretty girl with an average job that wouldn’t come close to producing the amount of money I need. I envy her.

  “Celina,” I say because I’m suddenly embarrassed to give her my decided-upon escort name of Ce Ce. So very stupid that I didn’t think about what I would tell her in advance.

  “And a last name?”

  “Celina, just Celina,” I tell her stupidly.

  She raises her eyebrows but otherwise remains professional. She clicks away on the computer in front of her before glancing at me again for a closer inspection. “One moment and I’ll ring the room.”

  She picks up the phone and presses several numbers. “Mr. Gomez, I have a woman here to see you. Her name is Celina, no last name given.” Her eyes swipe my body once more. “Yes, sir, I’ll send her up.” Now she looks me directly in the eyes. “Fourteenth floor and you need this pin number in the elevator. She writes the pin and room number on a piece of hotel stationery and holds it out to me.

  I have no doubt she knows precisely why I’m here. Pink suffuses my cheeks as I take the paper from her hand. “Thank you,” I say before turning away and heading to the elevator that she pointed to. Maybe in the next weeks I’ll grow accustomed to feeling like a hooker. It most definitely won’t be today.

  I’m twenty-four years old and I’ve had sex with exactly two men in my life. I was a very late bloomer, and my high school years were spent feeling awkward and out of place. The first guy I slept with was during my freshman year at State College. Our on-again, off-again relationship lasted halfway into my sophomore year. The next man came along my junior year and lasted until a few months ago. We were engaged until I caught him having “ride ’em cowboy” sex with my roommate. She was doing the riding. He’s a class A loser and I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out.

  The elevator doors close with a low ping after I enter the code into the electronic panel. I inhale slowly and try to soothe my nerves. The interior is mirrored, and after a quick glance at myself, I determine I look as scared as I feel. I suck in a few deep breaths to settle my nerves, though the information I have on Mr. Gomez isn’t exactly calming.

  Oral only

  Likes it dirty and rough

  Demanding

  Control freak

  And the list goes on. The other escorts seemed to enjoy their time with him if the number of requests to be called when he wants a hook up are correct. Chances are good he won’t be an old geezer and for that I’m relieved. Mak warned me that the billionaire club has an intravenous connection to Viagra. She also told me whatever happens after the door closes with me and a client is my business. My fifty percent cut of the hourly fee is based on companionship only. Negotiations for more than that fall squarely on my shoulders, though the service handles all credit card transactions. I also have permission to leave if I’m asked to do something I can’t handle.

  Not likely. This is all about the money. A picture of my three-year-old niece, Kiley, flashes through my mind. Her curly red hair and her cherub downturned lips strengthen my resolve. This is for her. I need a lot of money and I need it within the next thirty days. Escorting is the only job that will get it for me in time to save her.

  The elevator makes another soft ping before the doors open, and then I walk out and look at the numbers on each set of double doors. This isn’t a cheap room in some shady motel, and the money I make today will be a good start to fixing my problems. I locate the room, close my eyes for several seconds before opening them, and knock briskly. It’s time to get this over with. Anger will get me through. Anger at my brother, who’s dead and has no idea of the pain he left behind. Anger at David, my ex, who could have helped if he weren’t screwing my roommate and a bit of anger at the man who is currently opening the door.

  Holy mother of God.

  I didn’t expect an old man, but I also didn’t expect this.

  He’s huge—tall, wide, muscular. I’m five seven and usually don’t look up more than a few inches at people. His jawline is strong and neatly shaven. He has an angular nose that’s been broken before.
I know because my dad’s looks the same way. I can’t hold his dark, almost black eyes because of their intensity and I glance down. He’s wearing dark gray suit pants and a white dress shirt with the buttons undone. It hangs partially open showing hairless, light brown skin and defined abs that ripple as he moves to allow me in. He’s barefoot and for some reason it suits him. My eyes slowly lift to his face and he appears to be laughing at me. It doesn’t reach his eyes, though. They are such a dark brown, they’re almost black. There is such sadness and pain in the depths of his gaze that I want to wrap him in my arms and comfort him.

  So very strange.

  He puts out his hand. “I’m Alex and you must be… Ce Ce?” His lips tilt up a bit more. “Or is it Celina?”

  He hides the pain well. I wonder if anyone else takes the time to notice it. Maybe I do because during this past week I see the same when I gaze into a mirror.

  I place my hand in his and feel an instant spark of horniness, which has never happened to me before. Is it because I know what’s going to happen in this room? I can’t help wondering why the hell he needs to pay for sex. These thoughts race through my head as I try to find words.

  “Umm, I prefer Ce Ce,” I tell him breathlessly. His smile is killer, his teeth perfectly straight and white. Remember to breathe, I think to myself without it doing any good whatsoever. He releases my hand and the sudden removal of warmth enables me to inhale much needed oxygen. The hum sizzling across my skin doesn’t fade. His musky wild scent fills the room. This is the scent that alerted Little Red Riding Hood when the wolf was near. It has told every woman who comes within a few feet to run or spread her legs. It’s telling me to stick my breasts out, wiggle my ass, and attract the alpha male.

  Holy fuck, I don’t know if I can handle him.

  He closes the door and slowly runs his gaze over my body before looking me in the eyes. His proposition is straightforward and leaves no doubt what he wants. “Your services will be required for the next three hours. I’ll pay you three grand on top of the hourly rate.”

  Three thousand dollars. I didn’t expect that much even for three hours. The agency charges a thousand dollars an hour and I receive fifty percent. One hundred percent of tips are mine. I stand in place with my purse on my arm and my fidgety fingers sliding up and down the strap. “Yes, sure, that sounds great.” God, I sound like a teenager. His eyes go to my hand and my cheeks burn. His cock will take the place of the vinyl strap shortly.

  He flashes another sexy grin and I swear he’s reading my mind. “Remove all your clothing in the bathroom. Leave them on the counter and return here,” he looks down at my feet before slowly running his gaze up my body again and meeting my eyes, “in only the heels.”

  He’s making it clear that my services are for more than platonic companionship. This is happening. I want to run. I want to find a large rock to hide under. God, I want to fuck this man too. What woman wouldn’t?

  This is so wrong.

  He takes another step back and motions toward the bedroom. I cross the luxurious living area, complete with a full bar, and enter the bedroom. The place drips class—nothing like the motel room I’m currently calling home. I try not to stare at the bed and do my best to walk seductively into the bathroom. I feel his eyes on me and shimmering awareness slides over my skin. This entire scenario is way out of my league. I remind myself that this is a business transaction. My body for his money. That’s all it is. He wouldn’t have made the offer if he hadn’t seen something he liked. I’ve never had body issues, but God, he’s Adonis to my girl next door with a nice rack.

  I close the bathroom door and open my purse. I remove the cell phone Madison issued me and send a text to Reanna. It’s part of the protocol. Reanna will call every thirty minutes now that I’ve made contact with the client. The almost immediate ping of an incoming text startles me and I jump.

  Have fun

  Reanna obviously knows something about the gorgeous man waiting on the other side of the door. I look in the mirror. This is the last time I’ll see the face of a woman who hasn’t sold her soul to the devil. My eyes burn and it’s nearly impossible to hold back tears. I reluctantly remove my jacket, fold it, and lay it on the vanity. I unzip my skirt and push it down over my curves. Three thousand dollars plus the additional fifteen hundred for three hours, I remind myself. Hopefully, the thought will get me through what lies ahead.

  I do my best to gather my confidence. I’m here because of this body. I should feel proud of what I have. Sadly, I’m ashamed because of what’s about to happen. I step out of the skirt and lift it from the floor. I place it on top of the jacket. He said naked and it’s much harder than I thought it would be. I unsnap the front catch of the pink bra I bought after I purchased the suit. I lay it on the skirt. He won’t see the pretty matching set that I wasted money to buy. My pink panties are all that’s left. I stare at them in the mirror and hook my thumbs in the side with shaking fingers.

  I can’t do it. Not this last strip of material that covers so very little.

  I lift my hands and bury my face in them. “Breathe,” I whisper into the quiet room. What the fuck am I doing? I manage to lift my head. The panties are staying on. If he asks me to leave, I will, but I can’t walk out there without this small bit of protection.

  I grasp the doorknob. It’s time to sell my body.

  Chapter Three

  Alex

  FROM THE SECOND I opened the door, my cock has been at full attention. What the hell would bring a woman like her to work as an escort? Not that I’ll complain from the standpoint of the man buying. But fuck me, she’s as innocent as they come.

  Her blue eyes are a strange shade—clear blue, almost crystal, and the horrors of this world haven’t descended on her and made her into one of the usual women I purchase for pleasure.

  I watch her walk away. The faint smell of her perfume and the sway of her hips causes my swollen dick to ache with a steady pulse of need. She’s terrified, and I understand why Madison had reservations. The woman might have all the right curves and a pretty face, but she drips innocence. Her shoulder-length blonde hair isn’t dyed. She’s the real deal without surgery or heavy makeup. She betrays how petrified she is in every nuance of expression. If it wasn’t for the reaction of my cock, I would send her away and tell Madison to fire her. Escorting isn’t the right line of work for someone as innocent as this woman appears.

  Do I do that? Hell no.

  She must be over twenty-one or Madison wouldn’t hire her. It’s that look of sweet pure terror which makes her appear younger. Her eyes grew larger as she checked me out, and I couldn’t help wondering what she would have done if I were a horny fat man in his sixties or seventies. I don’t want to think about her in the hands of some weathered old man, which is strange. Why do I even give a fuck? She’s here for a purpose. But, along with her sweet girl innocence, I noticed her sexual awareness of me. That and my stiff cock are why she’s still here.

  I follow behind her and stop at the entrance to the room and rest my hands on the door jamb to wait. I want to see if she does what I ask. I’ve played different scenarios a hundred times with escorts. It’s one of my kinks. I like them uncomfortable, and I enjoy keeping them off balance. I had Celina remove her clothing to do just that. If she were more seasoned, I would have handled things differently. I’ve had them crawl, put a vibrating butt plug in their ass, and blindfolded them. Whatever keeps them on edge. Their nervousness heightens the fun for me. I pay well enough to get what I ask for. I also know Madison’s girls gossip like old ladies, so mixing things up helps me keep them as unprepared as possible.

  All the air in my lungs expels when she exits the bathroom. I noticed her curves beneath the tight suit. Not this Goddess, though. Her breasts are full but don’t have the swollen, oversized look of fake ones that most of the escorts buy. Her skin is slightly tanned without tan lines. And fuck me but her nipples are the most delectable pink I’ve ever seen. They almost match the panties she hasn’
t removed.

  She stands frozen like prey, watching me as my eyes slowly skim her body. Her hands remain at her sides, but I can see the telltale signs of her nervousness because she has them fisted so tight her knuckles are blue. I walk forward and she stands her ground. She’s about six inches shorter than I am, and I usually like my women shorter than that. I’ll be damned if I complain. I lift my hand and glide the back of my fingers down her cheek. At contact, she jumps but doesn’t shy away. Her terrified eyes stay glued to mine—the fear in them palpable.

  “Relax,” I whisper. Her body remains tense, so I keep my voice low and steady. “I’ve ordered food for us. We will sit and enjoy a nice meal… first.” I can’t help running the backs of my fingers down over her shoulder. Her skin is hellishly soft. “Nothing happens that you don’t want to happen. Remember that.”

  I have no idea why I’m trying to talk her through this. I’m not generally nice to the escorts. Oh, I’m not violent by any means. I want what I want and I tell them straight up. Seldom do they even elicit smiles from me. That’s not the case this time. I’m afraid that if I tell her I plan to fuck her mouth until her jaw aches she’ll bolt. For some reason, I want to soothe this woman right up until I jam my cock down her throat.

  Her expression changes a small bit and maybe some of her fear recedes. Her eyes are so large it’s hard to tell. She starts to speak but clamps her lips shut. They are incredibly full, delectable lips. Waiting to have them wrapped around my hard dick is part of the game for me.

  “Say what’s on your mind,” I tell her with a little push in my voice. I drop my hand and step back to give her space. This isn’t like me either. I have no problem invading an escort’s personal space and keeping her off balance.