Elicit: (Decadence After Dark Book 5)

by M. Never

  The coy smile she arrived with never leaves her plump lips. “No.” She chuckles discreetly, almost to herself.

  “Did I say something that amused you?”

  “Not really. You just sound like Sasha.”

  “Yes, well, we share many of the same viewpoints and run very similar operations.”

  “Yours seems to be quite a bit more substantial.”

  “Only because we have different endgames.”

  “I see.” She shifts in her seat uncomfortably. Maybe that answer was a little too cryptic. It’s not exactly like I can come right out and tell her Mansion is a cover for a covert operation.

  “London.” Her unique name rolls off my tongue. “You will always be safe here.” I want to put her mind at ease. She’s in a new place, with a new boss, about to embark on a whole new occupational journey. Sasha captains one cruise ship; I command an entire fleet. “I understand the enormity of what this job entails. Of how much of yourself you have to give. It’s not taken for granted nor does it go unrecognized. The girls in this house are treated with respect. They’re the celebrity attraction and catered to as such. Do you understand?”

  With wide, attentive eyes, she nods.

  “Good. Now the formalities.” I pick up the ballpoint pen. “First and last name?”

  “London Erickson,” she replies quietly. Almost timidly.

  I scribble as she speaks.

  “Age?”

  “Twenty-six.”

  “Last time you were tested?”

  “Right before I left LA.”

  “Everything negative?” I flick my eyes up from the paper.

  “Yes. I have the results in my bag.”

  I nod, appeased.

  “Do you have any issues with having sex with a woman?”

  “No.”

  “A threesome?”

  “No.”

  “Foursome?”

  “No.”

  “Orgy?”

  “No.”

  “Submission or bondage?”

  Again, she shifts in her seat, but her voice is firm. “No.”

  “Anal sex?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Very good.” I check off all the boxes, with vivid images of fucking her while she goes down on another woman. The pen starts to slide through my sweaty palm. I haven’t been this tuned up over a woman since God knows when. Now that I think about it, probably never.

  “All your earnings will go into an interest-bearing account. You won’t need much money while you’re here. Everything you need will be provided to you. Food, clothes, amenities. No cell phones, though. If you have family you want to keep in touch with, we have a line designated for that. We’re discreet. No exceptions.”

  “That’s fine. I don’t have any family.”

  Most of these girls don’t.

  “One last thing. I like every girl to educate themselves or have a hobby. Some are working toward their GEDs; most are taking college courses online”—

  “I have a college level education.”

  The way she speaks and carries herself that doesn’t surprise me.

  “Okay. A hobby, then? Maybe something new you’d like to learn?”

  London cocks her head contemplatively. It’s as if I’ve asked her the square root of three million and three.

  “I’m not sure, to be honest.”

  I surmise by her response no one has ever asked her what she likes or what her interests are. Yet she has a college degree? She comes off as a confident woman, but I can see there’s more to this little red robin than meets the eye. Every girl who walks into this house has a story, and London is no different.

  “Well, there must be something that interests you? Music? Painting?”

  She shakes her head and bites her lip, worry surfacing on her sharp features.

  “Learning another language, maybe? French? Spanish?” I toss another idea out there. She glances out the window right before she pauses thoughtfully.

  “Pictures. I’ve always wanted to learn how to take pictures.”

  “Pictures?” I repeat.

  She straightens defensively in her seat, awaiting my what? By her anxious energy, I would guess my criticism. But she won’t get it. Never from me.

  I soften my voice. “Pictures. Okay. That’s a new one. But okay.” I make a note. Research cameras and online photography courses.

  Her tension eases, a beholden look in her eyes.

  “There is one more thing.” I clear my throat and close her file. “I assess each girl.”

  “Assess?”

  “Yes. I need to know their sexual skill level so I can match them with the right clients. Some girls need training.”

  Her stare sharpens. “Okay.” She gives me no objections. “When does that happen?”

  I glance at my watch. Right now? Right this fucking second.

  “Why don’t we introduce you to the other girls, get you settled, and then do the assessment,” I suggest like the calm and rational man I wish I were at the moment. Maybe on the outside. Inside, I’m balancing on my unsteady control to keep from ripping her clothes off and fucking her like a savage right on my desk.

  Her eyebrow arches perceptively. Does she see through my smokescreen? If she does, my poker face needs some extensive work.

  “Just tell me where and when.” She has no issue rising to the challenge. Strong, beautiful, confident, feminine, fierce. She’s the perfect sex object in the making.

  Your perfect sex object. Your perfect soul mate in the making.

  I ignore my meddlesome subconscious. Now is not the time to be staking claims. A romantic distraction is the last thing anyone needs. Not with Kayne in Mexico and Alistair gone. I’m the only one left to keep this household together.

  It’s my job. It’s my commitment. To myself, my organization, and these girls.

  I show London to her room first. It’s a corner suite in the east wing. Light, airy, with a canopy bed draped in sparkly organza and a sitting room overlooking the pool.

  Mansion is set up in two main sections. The east and west wing. The east wing is where the girls, Kayne, Alistair, and I reside. It’s strictly off-limits to the clientele unless one of the girls invites them back to her room. That’s their personal space. They decide who comes and who goes. And it’s never a good sign when a client waltzes in and out of an east wing bedroom like he owns it. Because it usually means he does. When that starts to happen, it’s a telltale sign I’m losing an employee. I’m already down two girls as it is. London couldn’t have shown up at a better time. Especially with a social tonight.

  I show her the common room. Or the “backstage” as the girls affectionately call it. I had it specially designed, combining two bedrooms into one large one. I wanted it to feel inviting and luxurious.

  The spacious area is draped with light pink satin window treatments. The wood floor is covered with soft white throw rugs, several vanities with antique mirrors line the walls, and huge tufted ottomans are situated all around. Every drawer is stocked with enough makeup and hair products to run a high traffic salon, and the walk-in closets are filled to the brim with everything from ball gowns to bondage leather. Fantasy is the name of the game. What the client wants, he gets. And I’ve made sure to cover all my bases.

  London meanders slowly through the room, taking in the lavish decor. She has a bewildered look on her stunning face, and it’s one I understand. Most women in her line of work aren’t afforded such luxuries. But the way I see it, a happy employee is a productive employee. And what makes women happier than playing dress up? Than having expensive clothes and costume jewelry and men throwing themselves at their feet? From my experience, not much.

  London stalls in front of the antique trifold mirror in the corner. Her elegant form reflecting all around her. She stares at herself with a ghost-like expression. Right then, I realize there is so much more to this woman than meets the eye. I come to stand behind her, gently placing my hand on her waist. Her dark bl
ue gaze lifts to meet mine. A moment of heavy silence passes. I give her the time she needs. Everything is new. I’m certain it’s not the first time her whole world has changed.

  “Good?” I ask her reflection.

  “Yes.” Her voice is soft but strong.

  “I know it’s a lot to take in, but whatever you need to feel comfortable, I’ll give it to you.”

  London takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. I interpret she’s coming to terms with her new surroundings and acclimating herself one small step at a time. She turns to face me. She’s tall, five-foot-eight at least. Her nose comes just level with my chin. Her long burgundy hair cascades down her back in loose waves, and her smell—dear god, her smell—is like the beach. A pleasant reminder of home.

  “When does my assessment start?” she inquires mildly yet seductively. Fucking hell. This woman has an aura about her I can’t deny. She owns the room without even trying. Before I can even think, I’m uttering the words, “Right now.”

  With dark, encompassing eyes, she touches my chest, and I’m zapped with an electric shock of arousal. She runs her hands over my pecs and then down my arms, lowering herself onto her knees as she goes. That one small gesture makes me instantly hard. With confident fingers, she unbuttons my pants, skims her fingers over the bulge behind my zipper, then keeps moving south until she’s bowing at my feet. My insides go off like a fire alarm. A submissive. My heart beats against my chest as I drink in our two forms reflecting around us in the three-sided mirror.

  Fuck, she was breathtaking when she walked into my house, but now, forehead pressed to the ground at my feet, she’s a goddess. Something unexpectedly shifts inside me. I have women at my beck and call at all times, but it’s been ages since I’ve really wanted one. Yearned for the person as much as the pleasure. In my line of work, emotion is a commodity you can’t dole out lightly. And I don’t. I care as much as I can without crossing a line, but with this woman, there might not even be a line. It may never have existed.

  “Up,” I command her, and she rises to a sitting position on her knees. I take her chin between my fingers, tilting her face up. “I have a feeling you’re a very experienced girl”—I run my thumb along her bottom lip wantonly—“so show me what that pretty mouth can do.”

  With just a bat of her eyes, she reaches for my zipper, and finishes what she started, removing both my jeans and underwear with one strong tug. Through the mirror, I watch my cock spring free directly in front of her mouth. I can see all angles of our position from the multiple reflections. London wraps her hand around my shaft and drops her head, drawing both my balls into her mouth. The unexpected sensation charges through my body. I lift onto my toes for a split second as she juggles the sensitive sac with her tongue. My broken attention jumps between the reflection in the mirror and the live event happening before me. The combination is a heady turn-on. After several elongated minutes of her worshiping my balls with her mouth and my cock with her hand, she shifts, releasing my scrotum before swallowing the entire length of my rock-hard length in one breath. I gasp as the head of my cock literally slides past her tonsils. Holy fucking shit. I latch onto her hair just to keep from falling forward as she deep throats me over and over again. Her lips kissing the skin at the base of my cock every single time. Watching, feeling, experiencing is over the top. I usually have expert control, but the unstoppable urge she’s bringing forth has an agenda of its own. To come right down her throat. To own this woman, this beautiful, majestic woman revering my cock boldly on her knees.

  I huff as her head bobs in the mirror, and her mouth engulfs my throbbing erection continuously until I can’t see straight anymore. Every cell swimming through my body feels like a microscopic fireball.

  “London,” my voice strains as I tighten my grip on her hair and thrust my hips brutally. She reads my signs, hollowing her cheeks as she sucks me into oblivion. My arm, thigh, and stomach muscles spasm as liquid fire shoots down my spine and snakes around my tailbone. She takes me deep one last time, shattering all my restraint. I spy in the reflection, through my hazy vision, her nails digging into my skin and her jaw stretched wide as I feed her my come. She’s the perfect fucking blend of beauty, ferocity, and obedience. A deadly combination for me. I hold her steadfastly as my cock twitches fitfully in her snug, hot mouth.

  We’re both wheezing heavily by the time I allow her to unlatch herself from my softening dick. She drops submissively to her hands and knees panting, as I lean against the mirror and catch my breath. I can’t tear my eyes off her. I can’t stop thinking about the unfathomable way she awakened something dormant inside me with just the power of her mouth.

  “How do I rank?” She lifts her head slightly, so only her eyes are visible.

  I crack a smile. “Expert.”

  I pull my pants up and refasten the button before I permit London off the floor. I could stare at her in that submissive position all goddamn day.

  Crazy images of her naked body dressed up in a sexy leather playsuit, high heels, and a collar overrun my thoughts. Crawling to me acquiescently. Needy, lovesick, and aroused as I entice her with a soft voice and promises of dirty things to come.

  “Stand up,” I order as I tower over her.

  She rises gracefully to her feet. Once at her full height, I clutch her chin and scan over her swollen lips.

  “Did I hurt you?” Her eyes widen as if the question is preposterous. As if no one had ever asked her that before. I wait patiently for my answer. Intuitively, I believe I’m going to need a lot of patience when it comes to London, although I’m not sure why yet.

  She comes off confident, but the insecurity in her gaze gives all her secrets away.

  “I’m fine.” She musters a reply.

  “That’s not what I asked. I want to know if I hurt that unbelievably gorgeous and talented mouth.” I trace the outline of her lips with the tip of my index finger.

  “No,” she utters softly.

  “Good.” I fight the urge to kiss her. Now isn’t the time or the place. Although, soon, I’ll have her beneath me. Tied up and dripping wet. I’ll make her forget about the past, present, and future. There will only be me—us—and the deafening sound of ecstasy.

  DID HE HURT ME? NOT even close. That blowjob was a drop in the bucket compared to the things I’ve done and the abuse I’ve been subjected to. Maybe if I was normal, I might have found it erotic or even arousing. But sex is my job. It has been since I was sixteen.

  Jett is everything Sasha told me he would be. Gorgeous, sexy, seductive, considerate. Sometimes dominant men intimidate me, but Jett has made me feel at ease. Not an easy feat for any human being.

  He cups my face, moving it at his will as he looks over my features with his alight turquoise eyes. They’re the most beautiful shade of blue I’ve ever seen.

  “Go back to your room and rest. Take a shower then be back here at six thirty. The other girls will help you get ready for tonight.”

  I nod. Right, the social. This should be interesting.

  He holds my face, as if he wants to say more, but only silence clouds around us. Why is he looking at me like that? Like he’s mesmerized. Like he’s captivated.

  I don’t say a word. He’s my boss, and I need this job. I need the hideout. So I’ll let him stare at me all goddamn day if he wants.

  He finally releases me, my heart fluttering.

  “Go.” He sends me on my way with a jerk of his blond head.

  I take a few steps backward before I turn and walk out of the lavish room. This house is unbelievable. It reminds me of a life I once knew. When I was innocent. Expensive furnishings, crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and extravagant décor. Ostentatious and over the top is how I would describe it.

  I find my way back to my room and disappear inside. It, too, is plush and over the top. Extremely feminine and warm with its white accents and antique-looking furniture. It’s a space I would decorate myself if I ever had such a luxury.

  I climb into
bed and collapse on the rich comforter with the baroque pattern scrawled across the top.

  I close my eyes and wish for sleep, but I know it won’t come. There are too many horrors when I close my eyes, so I just rest my body and try to adjust to my new surroundings. To my new boss and the idea of the new men I’ll meet tonight.

  I’m safe, I assure myself.

  At this moment, I’m safe. I curl into a ball.

  I’m safe.

  A knock and someone calling my name startles me awake. Did I actually fall asleep? I look around the strange room disoriented. It takes me a moment to remember where I am.

  I’m safe, I remind myself as I look up at the sparkly organza draped over my bed.

  “London?” Another knock and a woman’s voice.

  “Coming!” I rub my eyes and rush to the door. I open it to find a tall brunette with striking features on the other side.

  “Hi.” She smiles warmly. “Sorry to wake you, but Jett said we were supposed to help get you ready for tonight.”

  “Tonight? What time is it?”

  “Six forty-five.”

  Oh no. Shit, I’m late. “I’m sorry.” I stumble out into the hallway. “I fell asleep. Jetlag,” I lie. And insomnia.

  “It’s fine.” She grabs me by the arms to steady me. “I figured. But let’s go so we can get you dressed.”

  “I didn’t shower,” I confess.

  “Don’t worry. You can wash off in the dressing room. Everyone is dying to meet you. I’m Amber.” She puts her hand out.

  “Nice to meet you.” We shake.

  Before I know it, I’m walking back into the extravagant dressing room. This time, it’s bustling with females. I freeze in the doorway as multiple heads turn in my direction. They’re sizing me up, no doubt. I’m the new girl and that never usually bodes well. New blood, new competition.

  “Everyone, this is London,” Amber announces. A moment of silence passes before I’m met with a warm reception. A shockingly warm reception. Several half-naked girls surround me to introduce themselves.