by Kira Blakely
Well, damn, that’s interesting. “A fake fiancé for Christmas? What for?”
She shifted from one foot to the other, her kitten heels digging into the carpet. “It’s complicated. I’d rather discuss it with Dick or my chosen, uh, my chosen escort.”
“Do you want me?” I asked and sucked my bottom lip, real slow, dragging my teeth across it. It was the single movement that dropped panties so hard they shook the earth when they hit the floor. The only ‘move’ in my repertoire.
Blair narrowed her eyes at me. “Can you act?”
Apparently, I’d just found the one woman impervious to my ‘move.’ That didn’t work for me.
“I’ll do whatever you need me to. I need more information, or I won’t be much use. Why for Christmas weekend?”
Blair looked left and right at the empty entrance hall and the exit. It was early still and most of the regulars had filtered in way earlier. This was as private as it would get without me giving the game away and pulling her into my office for a chat.
“I’m quitting school,” she said. “I don’t want my mother to know, and the only way she’ll let me drop out is if I’ve got prospects.”
“Prospects in the form of a husband?”
“Exactly. It’s either law school or a fiancé.”
“And you don’t want either?”
“No,” she replied. “I want to be an artist, but that’s beside the point. I need someone to fake it, and I’ll pay you half of my tuition from Harvard to make it happen. Half of the tuition for this year, I mean. Do you agree?” It came out in a rush.
I fingered my chin, and the stubble rasped beneath my fingertips. “Interesting,” I said and considered her again.
“What?” That chin lifted even higher. “Look, I came to find someone who can help me, and if you can’t, I’m wasting my time here. You’re either in or you’re out. Or you could, uh, take me to another guy who’ll be in.”
And here I’d been thinking she was timid. She was anything but. One problem: I was the one who doled out orders and commands around here. “And what will you do if I say no?”
“Like I said, I’ll find someone else,” she said, in that clear, melodic voice. “Simple.”
I withheld mirth. I wasn’t laughing at her, just at this strange situation.
A beautiful woman in a strip club, looking for an escort instead, and having stumbled upon me. In truth, I probably didn’t have time for this. I had several clubs to run, but lately life had been so… boring.
Endless streams of auditions, meetings, and women who threw themselves at me willfully. They wanted me and part of it was the money, part of it was my status, the other part were the rumors about the size of my dick.
Boring. So fucking boring.
“Look, are you going to answer me or not? I’ll find someone else,” she said.
“No, you won’t,” I replied. No one else will touch her.
“Then you’ll do it?” Her eyes widened, a flicker of hope, and she inhaled, pressing those sumptuous breasts outward.
“You’ve come to the right place,” I said. “Christmas is in two days, Blair. We’ll have to discuss this in more detail before we start.”
“Yes.” She took a step toward me, not stumbling but totally sure. I liked that. Sure of herself, sure of her decision. She drew another card out of her pocket; this one had been scribbled on in looping handwriting. “This is my number. You’ll meet me at my dorm room tomorrow at 12 p.m. sharp.”
Another command. Interesting. I played along, smiling. “Your dorm room. That should be fun.” I stepped in real close, close enough to catch the scent of her hair – coconut – and scraped my finger down the front of her throat.
“No,” she said, and gulped. Her gaze chased over my face, rested on my lips for a second. “No, it’s not going to be fun. This is all business. You’re hired to play a part, and that’s it. There won’t be any of the other stuff.”
“Sex,” I said, and ran my finger from her throat down to her collar bone, lower, lower, a little lower. Her skin prickled beneath my touch. “That stuff?”
“None of that,” she breathed, and scrambled back a step, a blush creeping up her throat. “J-just a business meeting. All right? All right. Thanks for your time. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Blair skedaddled for the door, her tight ass swaying from side to side.
She didn’t walk like any other woman I’d met. There were all types – stripper walks, exaggerated model walks – but Blair’s gait was sinuous, yet sure. She halted in front of the paneled front doors and looked back over her shoulder. “Wait, what’s your name? I didn’t catch your name. I – isn’t there some procedure for all of this. Do I need to sign paperwork? Or pay you upfront or –?”
“Samson Barnes,” I replied. “And let’s just say, we’re not a fan of paperwork around here. You’ll pay me when the job’s done, and I’ll tell Big Dick all about it.” She can count on that.
She frowned, and her nose screwed up, too – adorable wrinkling around the eyes. “That doesn’t sound like a – never mind. That’s fine. Don’t be late, please.”
“I always come on time,” I replied.
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