by Mel Teshco
She didn’t need to pretend sex with this man was wonderful. Not when being with him felt all kinds of right. Not when her every nerve ending burned in his presence, and then exploded the moment they joined.
With his deliberately slow pumps in and out, she was already heading toward the place only Mackenzie knew how to take her. Then he abruptly pulled out, spun her around and leaned her against a huge table. A staff room table, she realized hazily.
His knee between her legs caused her to part them. Then he leaned over her and guided his cock once more between the petals of her labia. “Does your client make you feel this good?” he asked harshly.
She gasped as he entered her then in one long stroke, a hand bunching in her hair and bringing her head back.
“Does he know how you love being taken from behind? How you love your hair pulled just like this?”
“No.” Her voice cracked, and she felt his smirk, before his mouth latched onto the side of her neck and his strokes in and out increased until nothing could stop the freight train of an orgasm from ripping through her and tossing her high.
Mackenzie let out a guttural moan as her inner muscles clamped him tight, and he too came, her scalp burning as his hand tightened momentarily, before releasing her.
She was still sucking in breaths from her dizzying ride when he pulled free, disposed of the condom, and then turned her around to face him. “This isn’t the end between us, Scarlet,” he murmured huskily. His expression might be shadowed, but she sensed his intensity. “It’s just the beginning.”
Chapter Two
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Scarlet refastened her hair into its usual topknot as she walked back to the auditorium with Mackenzie by her side, his vanilla-and-spice cologne clinging to her skin. Her body hummed with sexual release, even as her emotions were tightly coiled.
They didn’t talk; words weren’t necessary after the intimacy they’d shared minutes earlier. They didn’t need speech to know there was a bond now between them, something that had shifted the boundaries.
It scared her more than ever.
The music pulsated, loud and seductive in the auditorium, with Amos crooning out a rock ballad that had his audience mesmerized.
Mackenzie placed a hand on her lower back to guide her past scattered groups of people who danced and swayed, and she shivered at his possessive touch. She might be jaded with other men, but with Mackenzie, every look and touch was exciting.
She took the seat she’d abandoned earlier, while Mackenzie took Amos’s seat, his arm curling around her shoulders and leaving no one in doubt just who she was with now.
He leaned close, so that she could hear him above the music. “Amos isn’t half bad,” he conceded.
She nodded, and he turned his ear to her mouth so she could answer without shouting. “He’s a celebrated music artist for a reason.”
He twisted to face her, a hand cupping her chin before he leaned forward. “You won’t be fucking him tonight.”
She glared. He didn’t need to know she wouldn’t be doing that with Amos anyway. That was her business, not his. “Amos is my client.”
“So replace him with me.”
She arched a brow. “And my other clients?”
He leaned closer. “You don’t need them. You only need me.”
Yearning filled her, even as she pushed the emotion away and refuted, “Hardly a long term solution.”
His dark eyes held hers, conveying his desire. His need. His obsession. “We’ll start short term. A weekend together. Then worry about long term later.”
She blew out a slow breath and shook her head. “My agency doesn’t do exclusive.”
It was his turn to cock a brow. “I paid two million for fifteen minutes of your time. Imagine what I’d be willing to pay your agency for a weekend.”
She bit her bottom lip, torn between excitement and fear at his proposition. She stood, all but shouting to make herself heard. “Talk to Maisey.” The woman not only had a mane of tawny hair like a lion’s, she ran the agency as though her workers were her pride. “If she agrees, then … you have me for the weekend.”
She ignored a sharp stab of despair, knowing that would never happen. Maisey wouldn’t agree to Mackenzie’s proposition. Maisey always did what was best for the agency, because in the escort business, reputation was everything.
He stood too. “Oh, she’ll agree.” He slid a glance at the singer on stage, whose tight leather pants and tousled, blond–brown hair left the ladies swooning. “Just … don’t be with that man tonight. Don’t be with any man.”
His demand was beyond arrogant, even ludicrous for someone of her profession. But she found herself nodding anyway, told herself it was because she could safely make that promise when she was with Amos. “Fine.”
He inclined his head, then reached out a hand and brushed his thumb beneath her jaw. Turning on his heel, he left the auditorium. Left the band not even halfway through the performance he’d paid a small fortune to hear.
Left her with yet another little piece of her heart going right along with him.
*
Mackenzie took the hotel’s private elevator to the top floor of his penthouse suite. Striding through the expansive living space, he opened the sliding glass door and stepped outside onto the balcony.
He needed some air. If only that same air wasn’t saturated with the incredible music from Frankenstein’s Blood, who still played eighteen floors below. He didn’t want to think about the lead singer being with Scarlet, didn’t want to imagine them in bed together.
If only his mind didn’t conjure up a naked Scarlet, her beautiful tits bouncing rhythmically, her upswept hair dragged free and framing her gorgeous face and body as she fucked the rock idol who possibly half the women on the planet lusted after.
His chest burned, his jaw aching with tension as he squeezed his eyes closed and dragged a hand over his face.
Though Mackenzie had never had trouble attracting the opposite sex, he knew whatever insecurities he might harbor were now exposed, a nerve deep inside that was damaged and raw. Revealing the boy who’d watched his father beat up his mother. The same boy knocked to the ground for trying to protect her.
A boy who’d been powerless and defenseless.
His hands curled around the balcony railing. He wasn’t that boy anymore. He’d grown up, burning with ambition and starving for control. Now he was one of Australia’s richest and most powerful men. People respected him, took notice of him.
Scarlet, on the other hand …
He barely noticed the twinkling lights of Sydney Harbour, the ferries and boats churning past. His hands tightened as he replayed the exquisite act of taking Scarlet in the hotel’s staff room. She’d been dynamite in his arms, responsive to his every touch, her body attuned to his in a way no other woman had ever been before.
God help him, even the smattering of freckles on her chest turned him on. He loved to lick her silky soft skin, before moving to her creamy, rose-tipped tits and suckling them until she arched against him with a gasp …
Get a grip, man. She’s trained to make you believe you’re the only man she wants.
His belly hardened as his mind flashed to the kiss Scarlet had shared with Amos. He sucked in a deep breath, forcing back control. He’d been ready to tear the couple apart so he could smash a fist into Amos’s face. Been prepared to do whatever it took to make sure the singer never kissed or touched Scarlet again.
Hypocrite.
He hadn’t exactly been celibate in the eighteen months since Scarlet had tossed him aside, as though his money and status meant nothing. He’d foolishly believed fucking his way through a dozen beautiful mistresses and call girls would help him to forget her.
Scarlet, with her intelligent green eyes, slender, toned body and gorgeous flame-red hair was nothing like the blonde, voluptuous women he’d once dated. Yet she filled his mind to breaking point. Perhaps it was the soul-deep recognition of vulnerability and strength that he al
so carried around inside himself. An attraction that couldn’t be denied no matter how much they tried.
His denial had finally been nipped in the bud when his last three sexual encounters had been with beautiful red-headed women. All of whom had made him feel nothing except an even deeper longing for Scarlet.
It was why he’d gone to great lengths to ensure tonight’s charity auction would be held at one of his hotels. Had taken even greater care to ensure he’d meet Scarlet tonight, even if that meant seeing her with the client who was the charity event’s main drawcard.
But would Scarlet be turned on or off knowing just how very far he was prepared to go to make her his own?
He pushed away from the rails. Pivoting on his heel, he headed to his fully stocked bar. He needed a drink, something double strength to ease the ache within. Then he’d make a phone call to the VIP Desire Agency and ensure Scarlet was his for the weekend.
He poured himself a good splash of whiskey and drank down the burning liquid, before he exhaled heavily. Yes, he’d make that phone call. And then he’d catch one last glimpse of Scarlet before he retired for the night and figured out how the hell he’d make theirs a permanent relationship.
*
Scarlet returned to her seat when Amos finished his hour-long performance and finally pushed his way through the admiring crowd.
He sat near her, deliberately facing away from anyone who might try and steal more of his time. “I hate to say it, but that man who bid on us definitely wasn’t a fan of mine.”
Heat flared up her neck. She delicately cleared her throat. “Why do you say that?”
He smiled. “He looked like a man who’d found his wife cheating on him. Is he a client of yours?”
She nodded. “Yes. Or at least, he used to be.”
Amos chuckled. “I’m thinking he will be again very soon, yes?”
She swallowed back denial. Amos might be paying her to be with him, but he didn’t pay her to lie. Not to mention he was a wonderful man, deserving of the truth. “Only if he finds a way to get past Maisey’s shrewd business sense.”
His smile faded as he searched her face. He seemed concerned for her well-being. “He looks like a man who gets what he wants. And he definitely wanted you.” He lifted a hand to curl a piece of her hair behind an ear. “Guess he’ll be happy to know our time was coming to an end anyway.”
She pushed away a raft of sadness. No client lasted forever. She’d do well to remember it. “Yes, I guess he will.” She blinked. “If you’re interested, I know someone in the agency who’d be perfect for you.”
*
Claire—she used the name Scarlet only when she was an escort—did some quick stretches, before she crouched and laced up her sneakers. Heading out the front door of her small three-bedroom home, she broke into a run.
She always enjoyed her early morning exercise. Staying active was as big a part of her routine as sleeping and eating. In her line of business she had to stay fit, had to be in shape for those men who enjoyed lying back while she did all the work.
She grinned. Paying outrageous sums of money gave her clients that privilege and then some. Unlike Mackenzie, who got off on giving her pleasure first. He was the only client who made her climax for real. She shivered. He was also the only man who gave her goose bumps just by thinking about him.
She turned left at a little quaint cottage with an overgrown garden. Mrs. Gracie was an elderly neighbor she often visited, a woman who’d known her mother, and who’d seen Claire and her sisters grow up. The same woman who’d raised her grandson, Bradley—one of Claire’s best friends—before he’d left to backpack around the world.
But Mrs. Gracie was getting old and frail now, and her garden was obviously too hard to maintain. Claire made a mental note to visit her again soon, and give her a helping hand.
She crossed the road to the next block, where Sydney suburban homes were giving way to chic apartments. On her income, she could afford something quite a bit nicer than the small, one-bathroom, red-brick home that was faded with age. But when that same home her mother had once rented had come up for sale three years earlier, Claire couldn’t give it up.
There’d been too many happy memories, too many birthdays and Christmases. Too much of her mother still lingering in the home to simply walk away from it all. It was also the home her sisters had grown up in, making it their one stability in life. Lord only knew Danni and Tina needed all the stability they could get.
Besides, the money she’d saved by not living a flashy lifestyle went into providing for her sisters’ futures. She hadn’t become an escort to live at the best address or eat the finest food. She enjoyed home-cooked meals made on her old electric stove as much as she did the latest and greatest cuisine she sampled all too often with her clients.
Mackenzie loved simple fare too. He’d often taken her to a local pub for dinner, where they’d enjoyed steak, chips and salad, or a good old-fashioned chicken schnitzel. She learned a lot about her clients from the places they went and the food and drinks they consumed.
She’d guarantee Mackenzie’s upbringing had been far simpler than the life he presently led.
She rounded a corner, nodding at a young woman who was speed-walking with a stroller from the other direction.
Claire slowed and pressed a hand to her belly, pushing away a sudden maternal urge. She didn’t want children. Bringing up hormonal teen girls had surely been enough.
Except an image of a little boy with Mackenzie’s sharp cheekbones and flashing, brilliant dark eyes, and a little girl with Mackenzie’s dark brown hair and long lashes, couldn’t be suppressed.
She grimaced. No. She wouldn’t even think about babies. Besides the fact it was undesirable in her line of work to have a baby, she’d never put herself in that position. Never give a man the ability to walk away from her or her child.
She’d learned that the hard way after watching her father walk away from his family.
Better to be single and independent. Better to never rely on anyone but herself.
She surged forward, pushing her legs hard. Pushing herself to not think about anything but deep, steady breaths as she ran.
She succeeded … to a point. Until she became aware of a gold-colored, late model sedan following her. Her pulse quickened, a knot of anxiety forming in her belly. The classy car screamed money, like something one of her clients would drive. She turned another corner and the car slowly followed.
Her throat dried. Had a client somehow learned her address? Or had someone nearby discovered what she did for a living? She’d done her utmost to conceal her profession and keep away potential crazies. Perhaps she hadn’t done enough.
She’d had a couple of clients in the past who’d been forceful and even a little hostile. The agency had firmly shown their asses out the door … but not before those same men had used her body to their satisfaction.
She locked those memories away into the back of her mind where they belonged. It was the biggest drawback to her profession, and yet another reason she never wanted her sisters to consider the option of sleeping with men for money. Once Danni and Tina had finished university and entered their chosen profession, she intended to leave the VIP Desire Agency, maybe even take up some kind of study herself.
The gold car pulled in front of her and drew to a stop at the curb. Her breath caught, and as she turned to run across the road, away from even a hint of danger, Mackenzie climbed from the back of the sedan.
His white teeth glinted and his eyes ran approvingly over the black tights and pink crop top she reserved for running and the gym.
She stilled, blinking at him even as relief was superseded by outrage. “You!”
He arched a dark brow. “Did you think I might have been someone else?” His expression mightn’t betray him, but his tone revealed his censure.
“I had no idea who was following me,” she snapped, her heart rate not settling even a little at seeing him. “No-one knows where I live.”
/> He shrugged. “It was easy enough to follow you home last night.”
“Seriously?” Her insides roiled at his arrogance. Had he wanted her address, or to see if she’d break her word and sleep with Amos? She stepped jerkily toward him. “You’ve gone too far.”
“Not far enough, Scarlet.”
She shook her head, remembering she was no longer Claire, the everyday girl next door. She was Scarlet, the escort. “You’re not even a client.”
“But I am.” At her hiss of disbelief, he added, “I’ve managed to book you for all this weekend. Friday night until Sunday night.”
She stared. Never in a million years had she thought he’d get past Maisey’s bulldog defences. She should have known better. And that was despite the fact she’d already been booked solid for at least a month in advance—all the VIP Desire Agency girls were. The agency was an exclusive establishment, where even the wealthiest clients had to gain approval before they were put on a waiting list.
She crossed her arms. “Where? And how much?”
“At my holiday house in the Blue Mountains.” He stepped forward, closing the gap between them before he trailed a hand along her jaw. “As for how much … do you always value your self-worth by the figures you earn?”
She jerked her head away. “I don’t do what I do for charity. Not everyone can afford to pay two million dollars for fifteen minutes of my time.”
He nodded. “True.” His dark eyes gleamed, but he didn’t touch her this time when he ended the conversation with, “Expect a phone call from Maisey. I’ll see you tonight at six. Pack casual and warm.”
He didn’t give her the figure he’d been willing to pay Maisey to scratch off two of her most prominent clients for the weekend.
Chapter Three
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