by Chloe Adler
“Oh, wow,” his voice is husky, “you are, without question, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
My ass, he means. It is a pretty nice ass, and it should be after all the squats I’ve endured. I wriggle it and move my hand down between my legs to finger myself. Truth is, this man turns me on far more than I’d like to admit and since he isn’t touching me—well, someone’s got to.
“Please,” he rasps. “Stop.”
Stop? Stop what? Touching myself? Wriggling my ass? I know from prior experience that this man can hold his semen if need be. I don’t want to show him my face but I glance over my shoulder anyway.
He’s stroking his cock and licking his lips. His eyes are glazed as he stares at my hand moving against my clit. There we go. He just needed a little incentive without my beat-up face getting in the way. I turn back and squeeze my eyes shut. I have to think of something other than that image of him behind me, his muscles rippling as he strokes himself. I can’t orgasm with anyone. But this isn’t really the same thing, is it? I mean, he’s not touching me. He’s just watching. I’ve done that before, masturbated for men and for women. Dozens of times. The difference between those times and now is that I’ve always faked it and this time I’m having trouble not coming.
“Sydney, please stop,” he growls but his breathing, his panting, shallow breaths say otherwise. “I . . . can’t think . . . with you doing that.”
“You’re not supposed to think,” I purr. “Pump that hard cock for me. I want you to cover my ass with your come.”
“I . . . want . . . to . . . talk.” He’s close, and that turns me on in a way I’ve never experienced with a john before.
“Talk later, come on me. Or better yet, fuck me and come inside my pussy.” I waggle my ass at him again.
“Oh Sydney, I want to touch you. Can I touch you?”
“Yes, please, fuck me!” I scream.
He puts both of his hands on my ass and I move my hand away. “No, put your hand back, keep playing with yourself.”
Shit. I do as he says reluctantly. I want to come but I can’t let myself. I clear my mind and turn it toward what I need to in order to keep from having an orgasm. Pushing myself out of my body and into my mind is the easy part; it’s staying there that becomes challenging. I’m able to enter the lockbox I keep deep inside and focus on math problems, old video games and the rotten smells I’ve collected throughout my life.
These thoughts, these hidden places have never failed me before.
Niall presses his face in between my ass cheeks and inhales. Is he a rimmer? I wouldn’t have pegged him as one. But instead of tonguing my anus, he breathes out heavily, loudly, making a humming sound that vibrates my pussy and almost pushes me over the edge. The sounds of him pumping himself again excite me even more and all thought, all common sense, all my years of training fly right out the brothel window.
“Come for me,” he snarls and slaps my ass.
I bite it back, clenching my pussy. Then there’s the sound of a condom wrapper tearing open, and a second later his cock presses into my opening. “Let me in,” he commands and I can’t help loosening my pussy for him. “Put your hand back and touch your clit for me. You will come for me.”
I do as he says, even though I know I shouldn’t. Everything inside my brain is screaming for me to stop but I can’t. His cock teases my entrance without pressing in his full length. Just the tip and then back out again, exactly the way I like it. The way I touch myself when I want to come. He uses his hand to circle his member around my wet entrance and up over my clit. I make a move to grab his cock but he circles my waist with his other hand and slaps mine away, bringing my hand back to my clit like he’s my master and I can’t defy his command.
“Niall, please . . .” I pant.
“Please what?” he grunts. “Please make you come?”
Oh fuck me. “Yes.” No!
He moves my hand faster while his cock keeps up its maddening tease, pressing in and out a mere inch. It’s obvious he’s frigged many women before me and the moment before I’m about to burst, he shoves himself all the way inside of me. My orgasm explodes, harder and stronger than any I’ve ever given to myself. It races like napalm through my nerves as each one fires again and again. I am ravaged by the sensations, completely unfamiliar and yet oddly comforting, as if this is exactly what I needed to finally relax. To get off the merry-go-round of pretend and make-believe that is my life. To stop performing and, for the first time ever, start living instead. I shake my head once to clear these dangerous thoughts.
Niall pulls himself out of my pulsing snatch without finishing himself and drops to my side, bringing my fingers to his mouth and sucking on them. His eyes are locked on mine and I’m sure I look a mess, panting and drooling with a black-and-blue face, but the way he’s looking at me I can almost forget how hideous I am. He moves up to my face and cradles it. I want to move away but I’m too stunned to do much else than fuck the air with my ass.
16
Niall
I have no idea what I’m even doing. This is an unchartered course. She was very explicit with her rules. No kissing, no orgasms. Why then was I so intent on breaking one? And now I want to break the other, but I won’t. For this moment, I stare deeply into her eyes. Unblinking, we fall into each other’s pupils. Crashing through the depths of a thousand wounds, heartbreaks and pain, but neither of us look away. It’s as though the earth has stopped spinning and time stands still, with the only two people in existence mirrored in the eyes of the other.
Our bodies shift together and in moments she’s no longer on all fours, she’s nestled safely in my arms. I hold her like she’s the last woman I will ever touch before I hit a brick wall driving two hundred miles an hour.
Her hands clutch at my back, fingernails raking against my skin. My own tangle in her thick brown hair. We fall onto the bed, our bodies melding. This isn’t lust. It’s something else—primal need. The exact thing I’ve denied myself for as long as I can remember, the touch of another person. True intimacy. And even though I’ve paid for her, she’s giving me something that’s not on the menu and I’m taking it. If I can fill myself up on her, maybe I won’t need to do this again with anyone else, ever.
She pushes me onto my back and climbs on top of me. I can no longer see her bruises or her battered and bandaged face. All I see are her shining green eyes and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever beheld. I’m glad I didn’t insist on feeding her my blood to heal her earlier. She would have been hurt, thinking I was only doing it because I wanted to fuck her when she was pretty and that couldn’t be farther from reality. In this moment, she’s absolutely perfect just the way she is.
She leans forward, guiding my cock into her drenched pussy. Her breath is shallow as she grinds against me, into me, using my cock for her pleasure. This is no whore putting on a show for a good tip. This is a woman lost in the moment, something I sense she’s never allowed herself to do before. With anyone.
My hands sink into her hips and I pull her closer. There are so many things I want to tell her. Things I want to promise her. In this moment, I think I may love her. That’s the lust talking, Niall. Shut the fuck up, brain, and let me enjoy this moment.
Sydney’s body tenses and I push into her, grinding my cock up to hit her clit at the same time. My hands frame her face and I keep my eyes on her luscious, plump lips. It takes every ounce of self-control not to kiss them. I want to nibble them, taste them, force my tongue inside of every cavity, every orifice. Her eyes spring open and our gazes lock. I dare not speak. Her lips twitch and her body begins to spasm. Her second orgasm spurs my own. The pressure of her heat around my cock, the sharp contractions of her pussy send me plummeting over a steep edge into an abyss of pure pleasure. Her spasms are urgent and hot, her tender folds milking me with the same urgency. Before my brain can catch up, white-hot fluid leaves my cock and pumps into the condom, but instead I imagine filling her up, shooting my seed deep inside of her, c
laiming her as my own.
Sydney throws back her head and roars, loud and long. Guttural and without control. I grab her tits and squeeze them while she continues to ride me, pushing onto my cock, taking me deeper. The apex of my own orgasm revs through me as she brings her head back down, her eyes rolling back. I stop holding back and let out my own roar. She screams again and bucks harder as a third orgasm rips through her. She claws at my chest, lost to her lust. Even when I feel a small trickle of blood flow down one nipple, I don’t stop her. But I do watch her, hair flailing, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open and even more beautiful than I could ever imagine. Her beauty is so blinding it could make a monk give up his vows. No wonder she made me give up mine.
She bites her lip and keeps moving on my cock, slower now, in little circles while she moans. Her eyes are still closed and she clutches at my bloodstained chest, then moves her own hands up to touch her breasts. I move mine out of the way and hold on to her waist. Tweaking and kneading her nipples, she moves her hands up and up. Lost in the moment, she brings them to her mouth and sucks in a finger. Her eyes fly open and she looks down at me, slack-jawed. I’m sure my own nipple is dotted with drying blood.
“Oh my God.” She leaps off the bed. “I’m so sorry.” She runs into the bathroom and turns on the water, wetting towels.
I chuckle and roll onto my side, facing the bathroom door. “Sydney, don’t bother, I’m a vampire.”
Her head peeks around the frame. “So?”
“So I’ll heal quickly without a scar. Come back to bed.”
She returns with a damp cloth and runs it over the tiny wound she inflicted. I take the cloth from her and toss it onto the nightstand. Her brow creases and I pull her into me.
“Would you like to lick the wound? It’s completely up to you.”
“What?” Her face pales. “Oh.”
“I’m only offering because . . .” I jut my chin toward her but she furrows her brows. Reaching around her to the nightstand, I yank open a drawer to draw out a handheld mirror. Miss Cheryl keeps them in all the rooms, where they often come in handy. Once Sydney catches sight of what’s in my hand, she covers her face, trying to hide her injuries. I hold the mirror up and gently loosen her fingers so she can see that the bruises around her eyes have lightened.
She gasps and snatches the mirror from me. “This is from your blood?”
I nod.
Her nose crinkles like a bunny and I resist leaning forward to kiss it. “Are you clean?”
“Hell no. Your juices are still all over me and I’d rather not shower.” I wink.
She barks out a chuckle. “I meant from diseases.”
I point to my bloody chest. “Vampire. We’re immune.”
“Ah, well, then thank you for wearing a condom even though you didn’t have to.”
“A favor to both you and Miss Cheryl. Makes cleanup easier for you and the staff.” I waggle my brows and look down at the stipple of blood dotting my chest.
She follows my gaze down and then back up to my face. “What if I don’t want to?” She collapses on her side next to me with a hand propping up her head.
I roll toward her and prop my head up with a hand too. “Then you don’t have to. But I do have to tell you . . .”
“What?” Her postcoital voice is sultry and sweet.
“Vampire blood is best for healing fresh wounds. If you wait too long . . .” I squeeze my eyes shut to keep myself from forcing my blood into her. “It may not work at all.”
When I pry my eyes open again, she’s sucking in the sides of her cheeks, nodding, but she makes no move toward me.
I reach out a hand and cup the side of her ravaged face, at a complete loss for words. Or maybe I actually care. My blackened heart cares about a whore who may never love me back.
17
Kaden
I hop from one foot to the other, standing in the foyer of Ichor. I’ve never been here before and I couldn’t be more uncomfortable.
“Kaden.” Cheryl approaches. “What brings you here? Checking up on Eleanor?”
“Actually, no.” I avoid her cold, hard gaze. “You have a new hire here . . .” I lick my lips, which are suddenly cracked and dry. “A woman by the name of Sydney?”
Cheryl rubs her palms together. “You’re in luck, she wasn’t supposed to work tonight.”
“But she’s here?” I bite my tongue to hide my excitement.
“Yes, she was called in. Quite a popular little kitten that one and currently with a customer, but I’d be happy to bring her to you next.” She smiles up at me. “After she showers, of course. Or if you’d like to sample something else . . .” She makes a sweeping gesture with her hand around the open room, where every type of male, female and non-binary morsel lounges. “You can have your pick of another. The ones available to go upstairs are wearing black ribbons around one wrist.”
I follow her movements with my head, pretending to search for someone who strikes my fancy.
“I just added that addition so everyone’s clear on who does what, or who...” she winks at me.
Normally I’m a forthright man, but I’ve dealt with Cheryl enough in the past to know what motivates the woman. I wrinkle my nose and shake my head. “Nothing here catches my eye tonight. I’d like to wait for Sydney.”
Her smile is so huge it looks like her Botoxed face may crack. “Well, she is an expert and, from what I’ve heard, very good at what she does.” She winks. “Let’s go negotiate in my office.” She turns with a swish of her oversized red taffeta skirt and I follow her to the back of the vectum.
On our way Eleanor rushes by, carrying a brown doctor’s bag. When she sees me, she pulls up short. “Doctor, I didn’t expect you tonight. I was going to drop the tests off at the hospital after my shift. Is there something you needed to tell me?”
I cover my mouth with a hand, trying to hide the color flaming my face. “No, Eleanor. I have some business with . . . Cheryl.”
Cheryl waits off to the side discreetly, her hands folded over her bosom. That woman knows when not to blow a client’s cover, like the practiced pimp—madam she is.
“Oh.” Eleanor looks between us and then turns back to me and leans in. “I’m actually glad I ran into you. My daughter . . .”
“Maggie? Is she okay?”
“Oh yes, yes.” She bats a hand in front of her face. “She’s just fine.”
“I saw her last night. That girl has a giant heart.”
“That she does.” Eleanor leans in and places her free hand on my arm. “And it just so happens, Doctor . . . Kaden, that she’s on the market again.”
Wow, I was not expecting that! “I thought that she and Jerome were getting married. Did something happen?”
“Oh something happened, all right.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at the same time. “Or more like someone. Between his legs, if you know what I mean.”
I pull my collar away from my neck. “I’ve never met the guy but from what Maggie’s said, that surprises me.”
“Yes, well, I always said he wasn’t good enough for my daughter, but you know young women. They often pick a mate just to upset their mothers.”
I draw my brows together. From what I know of Maggie, she wouldn’t do that.
“Subconsciously, of course,” Eleanor adds. “Anyway, I’ll let you two get on with your meeting, but maybe you could ask Mags out. You know, cheer her up?” She blinks up at me, her dark brown eyes filled with concern.
She’s trying to set us up? Awkward. “Yes . . . of course.” I smile but keep my lips pulled over my teeth. “I’ll call her after I’m done here.” I’m saying the words to appease her. I care about Maggie, but not in that way.
“Aren’t you a doll.” She puts her hand back on my arm. “If it’s not too late, you could drop by. I know how much she trusts you, and the poor thing could really use a friend right now.”
That’s an understatement if she just found out her fiancé was cheating on her. “Anything I can d
o to help.”
“Thank you, Kaden. She thinks the world of you.” Then her eyes rake down my body and flash in a way that would frighten me if I hadn’t worked with this woman for the past two years. “Miss Cheryl.” She nods her head once to the proprietress and hurries along.
Cheryl and I walk a bit farther to her office door. If Eleanor weren’t so hell-bent on playing matchmaker, I’d stop and ask her why she started working here in the first place. I thought she was perfectly happy with her shifts at the hospital, but when Cheryl put an ad in our staff newsletter, Eleanor leaped on it. I would have thought her sensibilities were too moralistic to work at a whorehouse. Obviously I’m the one who’s judgmental.
We enter her office, a lavish space decorated with an abundance of dark wood and even more fleur-de-lis than in the parlor. I sit in a spindly visitor’s chair upholstered in blood-red velvet.
“Now, for Sydney’s fee.” Cheryl opens a ledger lined with rows of tiny writing. She slides her finger down one side and clucks to herself. “The girl only started here two months ago and already she’s commanding quite a high price.”
“Name it.” I lean forward in the chair.
“Most girls are 750 for a full night.”
I hold up a hand and shake my head. “I don’t care about most girls. How much for an hour with Sydney?”
“Ah, an hour, yes.” She looks over her book again and then leans back in her chair, her gaze holding mine. “Five hundred for an hour.”
“Done.” I pull my wallet from my pocket, count out five hundred dollar bills and push them across the desk at her.
She snags the money like a snake striking at a mouse and shoves it inside her tight bodice. Nice cash register. Then she rattles off Sydney’s “rules.” “Any questions?”
Luckily, there’s a knock at the door and I’m saved from making more awkward small talk. Cheryl stands. “You can wait in the parlor. I’ll let you know where to go once she’s . . . cleaned up.”