by Nolon King
That honesty got easier. Not because of the wine, but because he actually listened, unlike Ryan. At first I was worried that I shouldn’t be talking about my family, or the many problems in my marriage, despite the fact that he asked.
But it didn’t take long before the box was open, and all of my grievances came spilling out.
And he understood. While emptying the remaining Château des Rêves into our glasses, Bennett said, “Sharing your thoughts and feelings is a vulnerable moment for you, and when your husband refuses to give you his full attention, it leaves you feeling rejected. So it’s not your fault when you pull back. That’s instinct, to avoid more rejection. Honestly, it sounds like it’s his fault for letting you recoil, rather than pulling you into his arms, looking into your eyes, and letting you know that he’s there to listen. If he did that, I imagine you wouldn’t be here with me now.”
And that was all it took to get me wet.
When was the last time I had felt like this? So sexy and desired, even though he had yet to lay a finger on me.
“I want you to get undressed now …”
I hadn’t been wearing much under my coat. Now I was wearing even less. Just the thinnest gossamer blush-colored slip up top, and matching panties below. But for some reason, I was no longer worried about those few extra pounds.
How could I be, the way that one of the most famous movie stars in the world was eyeing me?
Like he wanted to devour every inch of my body.
I looked down at myself. Yes, I’d had two children, but I still looked good.
Even better, I felt good.
Lit by a genuine spark. Confident. Self-assured.
More like myself than I had felt in a long, long time.
Maybe it was the wine; maybe it was Bennett’s seemingly genuine sympathy.
Or maybe it was all the times I’d fantasized about Bennett while I was fucking Ryan.
Except that in my fantasies, I wasn’t his whore.
We were forty-one minutes into our hour, according to the gorgeous Perigold wall clock I kept trying not to look at. Was I supposed to make the first move, or was I supposed to wait for him to?
My body had been warmed on a molecular level. I felt like I could come from the sound of his voice alone. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was going to feel like with him inside me.
And I couldn’t believe that I was going to have the chance to find out.
Or that my first time getting paid to fuck would be with one of the world’s biggest movie stars, a man I couldn’t have even imagined as a john just a few days before.
At least not a john for a Plain Jane like me.
I reached over and touched his face, stroked his cheek with my thumb. I’m not sure why I started there. It just felt right. I wanted to kiss him long and hard on the mouth. Forget Julia Roberts and what she said in Pretty Woman, I wanted to taste him. But maybe she was right, because that didn’t feel quite right either.
My fingers fell to his lap, then to his zipper.
But then his hand fell on top of mine, and I looked up to see Bennett shaking his head.
“You first.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I couldn’t let him know that, so I said, “But I want to taste you.”
He let me take his cock out of his pants.
It was hot in my hand.
I tightened my grip.
“Kiss the tip,” he told me. “Then put him away.”
Put him away?
But I kissed the tip, with a little sweep of my tongue around the top, then down and back up his shaft. It was more than what he told me to do, but I was really wet. That’s probably why I went back to the top, pursed my lips at the top, and slowly lowered my mouth all the way down the base, before sliding back off of the top.
Bennett groaned. Then he murmured, “Put him away. It’s your turn.”
And then I got it.
I thought.
He wanted to watch me pleasure myself.
But I couldn’t do that.
This was supposed to be a duet, not a solo. I was frozen.
How was I supposed to perform with stage fright?
I finished putting Bennett’s cock back into his pants. It wasn’t easy, with him being so hard. I wondered if he was in pain, and if maybe that was part of the pleasure.
“I want you to make yourself come.”
I wanted him to make me come — in my fantasies, he made all the moves.
But the customer is always right, especially when that customer is Bennett Cole.
Blushing and hoping that he didn’t notice, I leaned back on the sofa, peeled off my panties, and dropped them onto the polished hardwood floor.
Then I spread my legs, imagining Bennett inside me, and using my fingers to play pretend.
He smiled, still so obviously hard in his pants, but made no move to touch me.
That was hot too. I was starting to understand the appeal of this wanting to watch thing. Ryan and I had never done it, probably because Ryan wanted to get in and get off as soon as he could. Even when we first fell in love, Ryan had never appreciated looking at me the way Bennett seemed to.
Bennett said, “Put them inside you.”
I assumed he meant my already-glistening fingers. “How many?”
“Two,” he said.
I slipped a pair inside myself, made a little hook, and moved it around, my legs spreading wider, eyes rolling back into my head, toes curling.
Then just like that, and totally unexpected, I came, surprisingly hard.
“Good job,” he said.
I held my two fingers in front of his face. “Do you want to taste me?”
He did. But Bennett swatted my hand away, and went for the real thing.
It was even better than in my fantasies. It took everything inside me not to scream.
I wondered if maybe I was supposed to. I moaned, and he got more enthusiastic.
Then I did scream a little.
Bennett stood and slowly undressed, starting with his shirt to reveal his chest. Next came his belt, and his pants falling to the floor. No underwear, just that impressive cock.
No condom.
And Olivia in my head: For the money they spend, most of them aren’t going to want a condom. Technically, you can refuse.
I reminded myself that this was why I was here, to give him whatever he wanted.
I wasn’t sure where to look.
Part of me wanted to watch him enter me, but the other part wanted to stare right into his eyes.
Did he want that? Or would it be too intimate?
He slid inside me.
The sensation was wrong, and delicious — all the more so, I realized with shock, because of how very wrong it was.
Apparently my vagina has muscle memory, and it could tell that the penis inside me wasn’t Ryan’s.
It was better.
“You feel amazing,” Bennett said. Ryan never talked once he’d gotten inside me.
I wondered what Ryan would think if he saw me now.
That was even hotter.
Fuck you, Ryan.
Bennett started to thrust.
With one orgasm already behind me, the second one followed fast.
This time I did look into his eyes.
And Bennett stared back.
His breathing became heavier as he moved faster. Beads of sweat formed on his lean chest.
He stopped and ordered me to turn around then get on all fours.
So I did.
And then I did everything else after that.
We went over our time but I didn’t care.
I wanted to stay as long as he’d have me.
“I’m going to cum in your mouth,” he groaned.
I nodded, and he pulled out.
I dutifully put his cock in my mouth.
I ran my fingers over my clit, then two fingers in to fill the emptiness he’d left behind.
I felt my own pleasure rise to the precipice yet
again as he finished.
I didn’t remember swallowing.
I couldn’t believe that I was getting paid for this trip to nirvana.
The bed felt like heaven. I leaned back and looked over toward the bar and another unopened bottle of Château des Rêves.
But reality was a bitch.
“That was wonderful, thank you. There’s an envelope on the counter.” Then Bennett pointed vaguely toward the door.
Ouch. It was like being doused in ice water.
But what was I expecting? That because I’d been in lust with Bennett for years, he’d spend a couple hours with me and fall in love?
He just paid you to fuck him; he’s not looking to fall in love.
I dressed, took the money, and left without a word.
I needed to be more careful. I couldn’t afford to let my emotions get tangled up in this. I’d gotten lucky. My first job had been a man I was already attracted to, and he’d turned out to be the kind of lover who gets off on his partner’s pleasure. The next client wouldn’t be Bennett Cole.
But at least now I knew I could do this. And now I knew my way out of the mess that Ryan had made of my life.
One down, nine to go.
Chapter Seven
Friday Morning …
MELINDA
The future of Blush was sitting right in front of me. I was certain of it.
“Thank you again, Mrs. Shelly—”
“Melinda. Please,” I said.
Seriously. How many times did I have to tell this one? His earnestness was endearing, but I only wanted true subordinates to call me Mrs. Shelly. I wanted Ryan Monroe on board as a partner.
“Sorry. Melinda. I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am for the opportunity to work with Shellter this year. You have no idea how much you guys have helped me and my family.”
“I think I might have some idea. The operative word is family. I’m sure you can see that even though we don’t have children of our own, Dominic and I treat Shellter as our family. That’s why we’re having this meeting here, rather than in our offices.”
I gestured around our yard to remind him, sweeping my hand across the back of the house, from the patio where we were sitting to the infinity pool with a view butting up against a sprawling view of the city below.
Ryan had a lot going for him, which means he had a lot going for us. He didn’t quite understand the power of his natural gifts, but Dominic and I would help Ryan to know himself better, nurture those gifts for our mutual benefit.
He had the unique ability to see people. He knew how to look into the heart of their truths, to understand their secrets, and interpret the DNA of their character.
“Really, Ryan, buying you out of your debts to Conquest and Dr. Ambrose was the best decision we ever made.”
That was my cue to give the man what he had been waiting for.
I reached into my purse and grabbed my wallet, then withdrew the check, neatly folded for this very moment.
I slid it across the table.
Ryan picked it up, then unfolded it and read the number. His face flushed with relief.
He folded it back up and slipped it into his jacket pocket, breaking into a laugh as he did.
“I’m officially debt-free for the first time since I was twenty!” This was followed by another long and hearty laugh. “I’ll never take another loan — especially from an employer — again.”
I’d met Ryan last year when Conquest sent him to do some assessments for Dominic and me during a hiring spree. I’d seen his potential and invited him to have a drink. It didn’t take me long to learn all I needed to know, that he was in hock up to his elbows to his former boss Ambrose a dozen years ago. He’d started working for the man right out of college, and after struggling to support his new family, he’d needed a helping hand. His debt to Ambrose had been snowballing for a decade. It was easy to see how he had fallen into the trap, and even easier to see how Ambrose had laid it.
By the time I had my first conversation with Ryan, he owed Conquest just over a million dollars.
But he was worth at least ten times that to us.
His work on contracts for Shellter since the beginning of the year had been exceptional. Now, with the fallout from the Rosebud scandal clearing a path for Blush, I wanted him to stay on permanently.
It had been a piece of cake, making that scandal happen.
All we’d needed was a couple of moles within the Rosebud organization, paying them to feed us information. Getting their stories onto Hollywood Hunted was simple, especially since Ellis Hunter was always looking for new ways to rouse the Hollywood rabble, and like a fool, he believed that his identity behind the blog was a secret.
These weren’t exactly the days of Heidi Fleiss. The world was different, and so was the industry. Sex itself was practically different. In the ‘90s, Fleiss had run a premium ring that catered to the rich and famous. She’d made more than a million dollars in her first four months, and at her peak, was generating nearly a hundred grand in commissions per night.
We were going to make Fleiss look like an amateur.
Ryan understood none of this. But he knew a good deal when he saw one. One year of work for Shellter, and we’d pay everything he owed.
“Your contract work over the last year has been exceptional. We would be thrilled if you were interested in making a permanent home here at Shellter.”
As expected, it wasn’t an immediate home run.
Fine with me. Dominic liked his fish to gobble the bait, but sometimes I preferred a slower reel.
I would get my man either way. Ryan’s method was revolutionary, steeped in meticulous research. Who cared if it skirted the lines of traditional ethics? And who cared if it cost millions to make this happen? It would be worth the risk, and the cost, in the long run.
“Has your work in this last year fulfilled you?” I asked.
He brightened immediately. “Oh, absolutely. The best of my professional career.”
“So you liked working with us here at Shellter better than with Conquest?”
“Oh yes, absolutely.”
“Why is that?”
“Autonomy. You guys told me what you needed, then let me figure out the best way to do it. I was able to try new things, and that allowed me to more deliberately develop the method.”
“Exactly,” I said. “That’s exactly the kind of thinking we need. Can you tell me what you didn’t like about working with us?”
“Oh, there’s nothing like that … Shellter is great. But I don’t know how much longer I can keep it secret from my wife. If she knew I’d slept with some of the subjects—”
“But the buyout from Ambrose made it all worth it?”
Ryan smiled. “Absolutely.”
“Yet you’re not sure if that’s the life you would like to continue?”
“Right.” Ryan nodded, still smiling.
“I assume that you are open to hearing our offer? You’re not opposed to working with Shellter again?”
“No, not opposed. And yes, I’m definitely curious.”
“Let me just ask you a few more questions. I’d love to understand where you’re coming from so that I can refine our offer. Will that be okay?”
Ryan said yes, but squirmed in his seat.
Good.
“I can tell from the things you say that family is important, but I’d like to get a little more specific there. Is it being the provider that’s the most painful thing for you? Or maybe not painful exactly, but would you say that’s one of the biggest sources of pressure?”
“Absolutely.”
He answered immediately, almost involuntarily, like a cough.
I could see it on his face — it had been a long time since anyone had acknowledged his sacrifice. I was seeing both the comfort of being understood, and the pain of its rarity. I imagined his wife. Ungrateful. Spoiled. Ruined.
Ryan might need a lesson in unanswered prayers.
Leaving his wife might b
e a blessing. With his looks and his brain, he could have a better life than he was pursuing right now.
“So, I’m trying to understand your objection. I just cleared a year’s worth of debt, and invited you to do it again, but better than the first time. What is it that doesn’t appeal to you?”
“I told you, I’m not comfortable with all the lies. This last year has been a means to an end.”
“What about the next year?”
“I don’t need the money now.” He laughed uncomfortably.
“We all need money. I’m sure your wife likes a lot of nice things -- a million dollars is a lot to owe at your age, and I really doubt that you spent all that money by yourself, Ryan.”
He reddened. That hit home. I’d bet they fought about money all the time.
“Sure, you could be an independent consultant,” I continued. “But that’s a lot of shit travel and hunting around for work, when you could make five times as much for a quarter of the effort with Shellter.”
I let that sink in. There was a long thirty seconds where Ryan didn’t know what to say. I used every one to study him. Yes, I was willing to pay, but I needed to know he would follow through on his commitments once a permanent part of the team. Blush was a crucial piece in the larger game.
“Would you like another twenty-four hours?”
Ryan shook his head. A pained, conflicting look appeared on his face.
“I don’t think I need the twenty-four hours. I’m not going to take the job.”
I laughed, wanting him to feel small so that he might need to feel bigger. “You’ll never get an easier job for less hours and more money in your life.”
“I know,” the pained lines in his face deepened. “But I have a wife. And kids. Helping you to staff a lineup for Blush would require me to go too far.”
I laughed louder, and harder. “Haven’t you already crossed that line helping us out with all the other assessments? For the last year?”
“Well, yes, that’s true” Ryan said, shifting in his seat as though he had an army of worms in his pants. “But only when it was absolutely necessary.”
I crossed my arms, looking at Ryan across the table and trying to figure him out.
Was he playing me for more money like Dominic had warned me he might? Or was he earnest like I’d argued?