Since we were besties, she had no problem sharing the hunky dancer with me, but I really had no interest in the sexy, half-naked man dancing practically in my lap. Devlin decided the dancer needed to turn it up a notch, and tipped him twenties to inspire a zestier performance. Instead, all I could think about was how much I’d rather be in our suite, dancing horizontally with the sexiest man I’d ever known.
By one o’clock in the morning, I finally got my wish. Devlin pulled me by the hand into our sitting room, where several bouquets of fresh dark roses now sat around the room. He turned on some sexy dance music from the phone, where he proceeded to strip for me, his audience of one.
With my own private dancer, I let my hands roam over his hard body. I was bold and adventurous as I got into the fantasy, at least until Devlin stopped abruptly and announced, “My turn!” with a happy smirk.
“I can’t dance like those girls,” I dismissed with a shake of my head.
“Tell that to someone who hasn’t fucked you,” he grinned at me as he sprawled in his underwear on the sofa. He queued up another song, a Beyoncé tune about naughty girls, before linking his fingers behind his head. He waited with a smirk that turned my innards to mush.
“I can’t do this, Devlin,” I protested again. I was raised to be a proper lady; I had no idea how to tantalize this man in any way even remotely comparable to the professionals we had seen.
“Yeah, you can,” he assured softly. “You can do anything. Now dance for me, Coralie.”
Just the way he said it made my nerves crackle and hum. He started the song over again and waited, watching me with those dark, hooded eyes. The smirk faded, and the possessive way he looked at me made me feel sexy, even though I normally would have felt ridiculous dancing for anyone, anytime, or anywhere else. I thought about how he held me, or how his hands would linger lovingly over every curve, cupping my breasts or my hips as he worshipped at the altar of my body.
My hips began to undulate to the beat and I ran my fingers through my long, dark hair, teasingly baring my skin an inch at a time for those hungry eyes that watched me. I mimicked what the dancers at the club had done, and I could see what it was doing to him from his hardening silhouette. I knew he wanted me, and it made me feel sexy and powerful… like Botticelli’s Venus rising straight from the sea.
I peeled each article of clothing away slowly as my body moved to the sensual beat. I didn’t even think about it, I just let my moves respond to the music, making love to the melody while tempting him with every rhythmic beat. When I finally reached him on the sofa, offering him my very first lap dance, his hands roamed over the full swell of my hips and up around my breasts, which were now bared for him to explore. He pulled me down to straddle him so that he could kiss me, invading my mouth with his tongue.
The song barely finished playing by the time he ripped away my panties and thrust himself up inside of me. His voracious appetite only made me feel more powerful. I was brazen as I rode him, whispering naughty things into his ear until he was speeding his way to an explosive climax. He held me in place for long minutes afterwards. It was the first time he’d ever come first, but I took it as the ultimate compliment. I knew I’d never have any problems dancing for him again.
I smiled wide as I started to pull away, but he wasn’t done. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. “You think I’m done with you?”
I shook my head and bit my lip, which made him growl as he reached for another kiss. Then his hands were everywhere, over my tits and between my legs, until I was crying out against him, riding his softening cock until it stiffened again. By the time I came, he was ready for round two. He easily lifted me up and carried me to the bedroom without breaking our embrace.
We didn’t come up for air again until closer to dawn.
With every thrust he claimed me. With every kiss he branded me. With every whisper he loved me.
With every beat of my heart, I knew I couldn’t love anyone more.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
My phone roused me at nine o’clock the next morning. Lucy and I were meeting for breakfast by ten, and then we’d escape to the spa for an entire day of pampering to prepare us for her six o’clock wedding that evening. Thanks to this schedule, I wouldn’t see Devlin again until we were ready to walk down the aisle. My dress and accessories had already been sent up to her suite, where Deidre was already in motion to overhaul it for our private reception following the ceremony.
Thanks also to this schedule Devlin would have to chauffeur Mattie to Darcy’s place, in hopes of finding an outfit suitable to wear for the wedding.
Thinking of the two of them alone together left a bitter taste in my mouth. I tried my best not to entertain any paranoid thoughts, since it only made my stomach queasier. But I couldn’t escape two irrefutable facts. The first, and most upsetting, was that during our perfect week together, where he had done everything possible to make me feel like I was the only woman on the planet, Devlin had slept with someone else. Just one night apart, and he had agreed to and arranged another date. Within the space of hours, he had taken another woman into his arms. He had kissed her. He had made her feel every bit as special as he had made me feel. He had whispered sexy things. He had conformed himself to her fantasy. And he had fucked her. He had fucked someone else. On my time. On my dime.
The only reason I hadn’t made a bigger issue of it was because I knew the reason why. He needed the money. This was his job. He had big expenses and even bigger commitments, and I simply came second to family. How could I fault this? The rules of our engagement had been crystal clear. I paid him to provide a fantasy, to fit and mold him into what I wanted. There were no promises, no expectations beyond that. It wasn’t about falling in love, or emotional commitment, even though somehow we’d found both of those things anyway. Being jealous now was futile. I knew going into this what his profession entailed.
This brought us back around to Point Two. Though he had taken our personal relationship up a couple of notches in intimacy, he hadn’t quit said profession. He was still an escort, paid to make women feel beautiful and desired, up for nearly any scenario as long as the price was right. He only needed a few hours to get the job done, as evidenced by our first night together, and the woman he’d slept with since we’d been in Vegas, someone he’d screwed the second the opportunity presented itself because he needed the money.
And the fact was that he still needed the money. He made that perfectly clear. He certainly wasn’t going to take any charity from me; that was also clear.
So what happened when he got another wealthy, free-spirited woman alone for a few hours away from the hotel, away from me?
Why was I sending them both off with my blessing?
I kissed him awake, simply because I could. He gave me a happy, dreamy smile as he cuddled me close. “Morning, beautiful,” he said like he always said. I tried so hard to believe it.
I wrapped my arms around him. “Only two more mornings to hear that,” I said in a soft, sad voice. “I’m going to miss it.”
He squeezed me. “Then I guess I’m going to have to text it to you.”
“You’d do that?”
“Of course,” he said as he bent for a kiss. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You’re going to be busy. You have other clients, after all.”
He fell silent as he watched me. Finally, “Is there something wrong, Coralie?”
“It’s been a wonderful week,” I said as I looked away. “I guess I’m sad it’s ending.”
He gathered me closer still. “It’ll never be over between you and me, darlin’. Hell, I’m looking forward to Lucy’s other wedding. I can’t wait to see if it’s the freakshow she seems to think that it is.”
My eyes met his. “Are you asking me on a date? Or booking me for a job?”
I could tell by the look on his face that barb landed right on the bulls eye. He disentangled himself to ease out of bed. “How could you say that to me?” he finally aske
d softly, his back to me.
“Because I don’t know how our relationship is going to change when we go back to the real world on Friday. And I need to. It’s only fair.”
“Fair,” he repeated with a humorless chuckle. “Right.”
“Tell me, Devlin. What’s going to change? You’re still going to work as a professional escort. You’re still going to date and fuck other women. You already told me you can’t make me any promises.”
He turned at last to face me. “So why are you asking me to?”
My voice was quiet, but sure. I had never uttered the words before now for a reason. I had never felt them before. And I felt them now. And they deserved to be spoken. “Because I’m in love with you.”
“Coralie,” he started with a shake of his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Yes, I do,” I assured. “I know because I’ve been waiting my whole life to feel the way you make me feel. If that’s all fake…,” I started, but he cut me off.
“How can you say that? After everything?”
“Then tell me,” I said again.
“What do you want from me, Coralie? Look at you. Look at all you have. I have nothing. I have no big house, no bank account, no ‘credentials.’ I don’t even have a respectable job. My whole life is a house of cards built with one lie after another. Just one mistake and the whole thing could unravel. And then where would you be? Think of all you have to lose, baby.”
“The only thing I care about losing is you,” I told him.
He sat on the bed, taking my hands in his. “And I told you, that’s not going to happen. I’m not going anywhere.”
Finally I asked the difficult question. “Would you still make that promise if I had no money to pay you?”
His mouth hardened into a straight line. Without another word he rose from the bed, walked over to the in-room safe and opened it. He withdrew an envelope and brought it to me.
“What is this?”
“Open it,” he instructed, his voice tight and controlled. I did as instructed. Inside was a check for over eighteen thousand dollars, made out to Devlin from his agency. “That’s my paycheck for this week, less the agency’s fees. Take it.”
Instantly I felt like a shit. I knew what good this money could do, to pay for his mother’s care. The painful reality of our situation was that I didn’t need this money, but he did. Desperately. “Devlin, no.”
“If that’s the only way I can prove to you that I’m not in this for the money, then I want you to have it.”
I sighed. “This isn’t what I want, Devlin.”
“Then what do you want? A normal relationship? Some upstanding boyfriend your powerful father would approve for some splashy high society wedding? Because if that’s what you want, then we’re both shit out of luck.”
I sighed. I knew that. Deep down, I knew it. I just didn’t want to accept it. “You need this money.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “And I need you. So tell me where the hell does that leave me?”
I rose from the bed to join him where he stood, wrapping my arms around him with all the love I could summon. He lifted me easily into his arms for a blazing kiss. I thought we might suffocate from need before we finally came up for air.
His eyes were cloudy as he whispered, “Tell me again.”
I lost myself in those green eyes. “I love you, Devlin Masters.”
He captured my mouth in another kiss, and then another, and another, as his hands tangled in my hair and he clutched me to his hardening body. Finally he walked us backwards to the wall, where he braced my body before he claimed me, yet again. Our union was brief but explosive.
I could only hope that would hold him over during our day apart. He put the check back in the safe at my insistence, and we didn’t speak about it again. I couldn’t say what I really wanted to say, that I’d rather he cash my check than go out that afternoon with Mattie, in dire need of money she could provide, with hours alone where–as evidenced so far–anything could happen. I wanted to beg him not to fuck her, because I didn’t think I could stand it.
I didn’t think I could stand the idea of his fucking anyone, which made our situation even more complex. The way his life was set up, there was absolutely no way around it. He needed the kind of money escorting could provide. It wasn’t like he could go flip burgers somewhere and meet his family’s great financial obligations.
So I said nothing at all and opted to live with denial for one more day. If he was serious, and he was going to be in my life as a significant relationship, I simply couldn’t afford to handle it any other way. I’d drive myself crazy with jealousy until I ended up in a padded room somewhere.
But I was still quiet when I met Lucy downstairs for breakfast. “What’s the matter?” she asked at once.
I shook my head. “I don’t want to ruin your day with my problems.”
“Yes, because moping and pouting is a much better alternative. Tell me what’s going on, Ceece. Let’s fix it.”
I sighed. “I’m in love with him, Luce.”
Her eyes softened as she touched my hand. “I know.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Only to someone who knows you. And everyone who doesn’t,” she added before she signaled for another round of mimosas. “So what’s the problem?”
I took a deep breath before I spilled the whole sordid tale. I didn’t leave anything out, including his tryst days before. She listened without judgment, as if she wasn’t even surprised. “Well, girl. You knew going into it what kind of job that he had. It’s kind of naïve to think he’s able to change that within a week just because he’s fallen in love.”
“Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to work?” I said. “I’m willing to change things in my life for him.”
“Really?” she challenged. “So you’re willing to march Devlin right up to your father and tell him that’s the guy you’re going to marry, oh and by the way he’s a male escort you paid to fuck you all week.”
“You know I can’t do that,” I snapped.
“Right,” she said. “And neither can he.”
“So what do I do?”
It was Lucy’s turn to sigh. “Such are the complications loving a bad boy, sweetie. You love him as best you can for as long as you can, which means you take him as he is, Ceece. Wonderfully complicated and fantastically flawed, just like everyone else. His rules are…,” she struggled to find the right word, “unorthodox. But they’re still his rules. And you can’t change the game now. It’s not fair. Just decide what you can live with, and what you can’t live without, and go from there.”
I nodded. I knew she was right. “This would be so much easier if he would just take the money as an investment. He and Darcy could work together,” I started, and she finished my sentence.
“And you get ride in on your white horse and fix everything with all your money and your influence and your privileges. You really don’t know a lot about men, do you?” She had me there. “Look, that first client fucked him over hard. She made all the pretty promises, too. She had the means to make things happen, which means it was her choice to make things happen. She was always the one in the driver’s seat. When she pulled the rug out from under him, it left him feeling powerless. He’s never going to let someone have that kind of control again, especially with his family at stake.”
“I know you’re right,” I mumbled. “It’s all such a clusterfuck.”
“Yeah,” Lucy agreed. “It is. You’re going to have to make some hard decisions to make it all work. There’s only one thing you need to ask yourself. Is he worth it?”
There was no doubt in my mind. “He is.”
She squeezed my hand. “Then give it time. Look at what you guys have done with a week. Imagine what the next month or the next year will bring.”
I did feel better after my little tete-a-tete with Lucy, though I didn’t dare voice my concerns about Mattie. I knew I was being paranoid. I didn’t know
Mattie very well, but I knew Gus, who was her twin. And I was pretty sure that she wouldn’t make a pass at someone who, by all appearances, belonged to someone else.
I tried not to think about it as we headed to the spa for our full-body aromatherapy massages, facials and foot and hand treatments. Next was the salon, for our makeup and mani/pedis. Finally it was time to head back upstairs to dress. By the time we reached Lucy’s suite at four o’clock in the afternoon, Mattie had returned with her score from Darcy, who had unearthed a black, double-breasted sleeveless dress that would perfectly match the guys’ tuxes. Unlike my dress, hers wasn’t full length, and instead stopped just short of the knee. She wore strappy high heels like I did, in basic black with a sexy ankle strap. Instead of carrying a bouquet like me, she wore a simple white-rose boutonniere like the men, completing her “best woman” look perfectly.
Though I tried not to, I studied her face for that tale-tell rosy glow of satisfaction that might hint what other discoveries they made in their four-hour jaunt across town. She was frustratingly hard to read.
Thanks to her statuesque figure, I felt even frumpier next to her. She was tall and lean, I was short and stout.
#TipMeOverandPourMeOut.
Masters for Hire Page 21