“I won’t be needing it.”
Finn laughs and shakes his head. “Surely, you plan to hang the clothes you buy.”
“That I buy? Does my wardrobe allowance come out of the money you’re paying me?”
He walks over to me, causing my breathing to become sporadic. When his finger touches my exposed neck, shivers run down my spine and my eyes close unwillingly. I try not to let his touch affect me, but he can see that it clearly does and by the expression on his face, he’s enjoying this far too much.
“I told you that I’d take care of you this week.”
“In exchange I spread myself willingly.”
He smirks and shrugs. “I think for the amount that I’m paying you, you’d be willing to do anything I ask.”
My temper rises as my hand clenches into a fist. I want to punch the smug look off his pretty face and show him exactly what type of woman I am.
“I’m not a whore.”
“I never said you were, Macey. You’re the one who keeps implying that our arrangement isn’t mutually beneficial.”
Finn turns on his heel and starts to leave, only to pause at the door. “We have a reservation in an hour.” He doesn’t tell me where or even wait for my response, but gathering by the dress that is hanging in the part of the closet he’s cleared for me, I’m expected to wear it.
Between the bathroom and closet there’s a room. I suppose these rich people call it a dressing room, whereas I call it a waste of space, but it’s someplace I never thought I’d find myself in.
My curling iron and blow dryer are there and plugged in, along with my makeup. It’s laid out for me so I can see everything. This whole setup has me wondering if Finn is a damn woman dressed in sheep’s clothing, considering he knows how to set up a woman’s vanity. It’s either that or he has help. Someone I have yet to meet.
Sitting down on the plush stool, my makeup-less face stares back at me. Hours ago I was crying and trying to will away the puffiness of my eyes so I could make decent tips before I had to fly home and now I’m here.
The thought of home has me racing back into the closet, searching my belongings until I find my phone. It’s an old flip phone, but it does the job. I dial Steph’s number and wait, hoping that I’ve caught her before she’s left.
“I haven’t forgotten,” she says, answering the phone.
“Steph.” I draw her name out, unable to form the words I need in order to tell her what I’ve done.
“What’s wrong?”
I carry my phone back to the vanity and sit down. Even staring at myself in the mirror, knowing what I’m about to tell her and ask of her, makes me sick to my stomach.
“I lost the money. All of it.”
The immediate silence is followed by a slew of curse words and a screeching, “WHAT?”
“But if you can watch Morgan for one more week, I’ll have it. And I won’t ever ask you to do this again.”
“How will you have it in a week, Macey?”
I look over my shoulder on the off chance that Finn is behind me. Even though I can’t see him through the mirror, his ninja-like stalking skills have me on edge. I contemplate telling her about Finn, but realize that will only make her worry more.
“It’s nothing illegal, I promise. I just need one more week and then I’ll be home and I can put this all behind me.”
“So you’re staying for another week, but you can’t tell me why or what for?”
“I’d rather not, Steph. I know you’re worried, but I promise you, I’m fine. More than fine, really.” I look around the room and realize that I couldn’t have asked for anything better, unless Finn is a closet freak with a sadistic side.
“Look, you know I’d do anything for you, but—”
“I know and I’m begging you. One more week, that is all I need and everything will be better for Morgan and me.”
“Fine,” she says, sighing. “Hang on, Morgan wants to speak to you.”
“Hi, Mommy.” As soon as I hear the sweet sound of her voice my eyes are glancing into the mirror to see if Finn is behind me.
“Hi, I miss you.”
“I miss you too. When are you coming home?”
“One more week,” I tell her, breaking my own heart. What I’m doing here now will benefit her. That’s what I have to keep telling myself to stop me from cracking and going back sooner. When she yawns I know that I’m keeping her on the phone for my own sake and not hers.
“You should go to sleep. I love you, Morgan.”
“I love you too, Mommy.” She hangs up without giving the phone back to Steph. I close the lid on my cell and set it down, all while telling myself that I can do this for her.
“Who’s Morgan?”
My eyes meet Finn’s stare in the mirror. He doesn’t wait for me to answer before he’s walking toward me. Before I can form a response, his hands are pushing the robe off my shoulders and down to my elbows, baring my breasts for him to see. I sit up straighter, showing him that he doesn’t affect me, even though my heart is beating rapidly and my tongue feels swollen. There will be no easing into anything with him. He’s admitted that he’s attracted to me and is expecting sex. I won’t be able to put it off for a night or two while I transition into being around him.
“Are you cold?” His fingers press against my skin, kneading deep into my muscles.
I shake my head, thanking his short attention span for not asking about Morgan again. He watches me through the mirror, his piercing blue eyes focusing on mine. When his hands cup my breasts and squeeze them roughly, I gasp because of the excitement that courses through me.
“Your nipples tell me otherwise.” He pinches and pulls my hardened nipples before massaging them. I bite my tongue to keep from crying out from the pleasure I’m feeling from being touched like this. An ache I haven’t felt in a long time grows between my legs, but I refuse to acknowledge that he has any effect on me whatsoever. My time with him will be clinical. I’ll be shut off from feeling anything and my actions will robotic.
“Who’s Morgan?” he asks again as he leans forward, brushing his erection against my back. “Does he know I’m going to fuck you? Will he be jealous?”
“No,” I squeak out, thankful that he’s assuming Morgan is a man. And if I think by saying no he’s going to stop this arrangement and show any indication that our deal is off, I’m sadly mistaken.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, walking away as quickly as he appeared. He leaves me speechless and tingling all over, and I find myself wishing he’d come back and fuck me so that the deed is out of the way.
“Twenty minutes,” he calls out from somewhere in the house, reminding me that we’re leaving soon. A quick glance at my phone tells me that it’s late and I know he wants to go shopping, although I have a feeling the stores stay open for someone like him.
For the first time in a long time, my makeup is light and natural and I leave my long hair down in curls. Stepping into the panties he bought me, my skin rejoices at the way the silk feels against my skin. I even think my lady bits are doing a damn happy dance.
“Don’t get used to it,” I tell myself as I slip into the dress and step into the designer heels. Even my feet are screaming hallelujah because those contraptions that I dance in are not holding them hostage. And as if by magic, gentle fingers brush my hair aside and tender lips press against my skin as the zipper moves up my spine. The shivers I feel are uncontrollable and the slight shake of my body causes him to smile.
“Blue is definitely your color, Macey.” I jump at the sound of his voice and place my hand over my rapidly beating heart in hopes of catching my breath.
Inhaling deeply, I turn and say, “Thank you.” For the past ten years I have wondered what he has been up to and now I know, and I’m about to find out a lot more about Finn McCormick. He holds out his arm and I take it, falling easily in step next to him.
I wish, in a different time, things were different, that I was different. In my dreams, I’m ma
rried to a man like Finn. We may not be rich, but we love each other and are raising a happy family.
In my dreams, I’m not a stripper, turned high-priced escort for a week of sex. But in reality that is what am I, whether Finn makes me feel that way or not.
Chapter 8
Finn
As a stripper Macey was hot and fuckable. As a woman wearing little-to-no makeup, with her hair down and dressed presentably, she’s someone you take to bed and worship. I think I like stripper Macey better because this Macey is putting stupid romantic thoughts in my head that I don’t want there.
I’m having a hard time keeping my thoughts pure, at least for right now. Once we’re back there will be no controlling them. I look around my house as we walk toward the door and mentally count the places where we can fuck. The options are limitless, but the must-have spots are definitely the balcony, couch, office, shower and on and on.
When I glance at the couch and imagine her riding my cock, I gasp and she hears it, pulling up short. The look of fear is in her eyes as she tears her gaze from me and immediately stares down at her dress. Her hands run over the front, and her body twists to look at her backside.
“Is there something wrong?”
Yes, you’re a walking fucking sin that I want to commit repeatedly. “No, everything is fine.”
“You made a sound.”
And I plan to make a lot more tonight. “You’re a beautiful woman, Macey, and you dress up very nicely. Shall we?” I motion toward the door and she falls in step beside me. With the wide hallway, I’m able to keep my space, but once we’re inside the tight quarters of the elevator, there is nothing preventing me from breathing in her scent. The stench of Stripperville is gone and replaced by coconut and what I’d call summer. It’s the only way I can describe what I smell right now. Standing next to her I have the urge to go lie by the pool sipping fruity cocktails and putting lotion all over her body.
“Where are we going?”
“First, shopping and then we’re having dinner with my friends.”
“Your friends?” she questions.
“Is that a problem?” I glance at her, only to find apprehension. Her fingers are knotting together and her eyes are focused on the floor.
“No, I mean if they’ve seen me strip they’ll figure it out quickly.”
“I doubt it.”
We exit the elevator and make our way through the hotel, until it opens up into the mall. Most of the stores are about to close so I take her to a boutique that can outfit her with everything she needs. On our way, I pull out my cell and call ahead to let the manager know that I’m coming in and what exactly we’re looking for.
“Everyone is closing.”
“So it seems,” I say, thinking I need to encourage her to look me up on the Web so she can see how powerful I am in Vegas. I’m not the type of casino owner who hides in their mansion. I mingle with everyone. I attend all the functions and donate when asked. I’m making a name for myself here.
“Mr. McCormick, it’s so great to see you.” The manager of the boutique greets me with a kiss on both cheeks. “And who do we have here?”
“Macey Webster,” I say, before Macey can answer for herself. At the club she went by Catalina, it’s cute, but my fear is that she’ll let her stage name slip.
“Hi, Ms. Webster, I’m Carlotta. Let’s get started.”
Macey looks back at me with fear in her eyes, I shrug and wave as Carlotta pulls her away. Another associate approaches and shows me where I can sit and offers me a drink.
Carlotta forces Macey to come out and show me each outfit she tries on. I can see in her eyes that modeling her outfits is not something she wants to do, but Carlotta is old-fashioned that way, I suppose. I’ve seen everything she dresses Macey in from slacks, jeans and dresses to formal gowns and nighties, and I truly like those the best.
“Do you like the clothes here?”
She sits down, taking a break. I grab the bottle of water that is being offered to her before she can and twist the top for her.
“They’re expensive.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
The eye roll is subtle as she turns her gaze toward the mirrors that line the wall. “I love them.”
“Perfect.”
“What did you choose for me?”
Her question catches me off guard. “Excuse me?”
Macey waves her hand out. “All of this, you set it up, so I’m asking which outfits you chose for me.”
I finish off my own water and wish I had something stronger. “It’s not like that, Macey. If you like something, get it. I don’t own you and you can walk away now with no questions asked.”
“Except I’m only yours?” I don’t miss the way she draws out yours while trying to avoid eye contact with me.
Leaning in, I tug her earlobe before whispering, “Yes, you’re mine. I will not share, Macey, but I also refuse to humiliate you. It’s a mutual understanding between friends. You do for me and I do for you.”
“So we’re friends?” she asks, as she breathes in.
I sit back, but stay close to her. “Of course.”
“We hardly know each other.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say we hardly know each other.” Her words are matter-of-fact, making me wonder if she’s the same girl I slept with at the party. I size her up and down, solid in my memory that she’s the same person.
“Tonight that will change.”
Her mouth drops open and before she can fire off a witty response, Carlotta is back and whisking Macey away. While she’s changing into her next round of clothes I fire off a text to the guys, letting them know that I’m bringing someone to dinner. My phone chimes back with a text from Brady.
I don’t want to hang with my sister tonight.
I scoff at the idea that I’d bring her along. Outside of college, Brandy and I have never dated socially. Yes, she’s my plus one for a lot of events, but that’s where the night ends, much to her displeasure.
Not Brandy, I respond before pocketing my phone. The fashion show continues, but this time Carlotta has added some spice to the wardrobe. When Macey walks out in a black bra and panty set, complete with stockings and a garter, my cock stirs.
She stands in front of me with her hands on her hips, waiting for my approval. Little does she know that everything she’s come out in has turned me on. I motion for her to spin, and she does, slowly. When her backside is facing me, she cocks her head to the side to see if I’m looking at her. Boy, am I ever.
“I like it.” This is the first time I’ve given her verbal approval of anything and it doesn’t escape her notice that I’ve commented only on the first piece of lingerie she’s shown me.
Macey turns with a huff, marching back to the dressing room. I can hear Carlotta commenting on her beauty and that’s something I can wholeheartedly agree with. The worn-out and tired woman I saw earlier this afternoon looks nothing like the one who is modeling for me now. Sure, she’s still tired, but there’s a different spark in her eye. I have no doubt she’s going to test me, give me a run for my money, but it’s going to be worth it.
She reappears in the dress that she arrived in, with Carlotta behind her.
“Are we all set?” I ask, standing to meet Macey. She keeps her distance and avoids looking at me.
“We are, Mr. McCormick. Shall I send these to your penthouse?”
“Yes, please.”
I place my hand on Macey’s back, the spot that I will be holding on to later when I’m buried deep inside her, and direct her out of the store and back through the almost empty mall.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
“You’re welcome. Did you get everything you need?”
“I think so.”
“Well, if not, you can pick up whatever else you need tomorrow.”
We continue out of the mall and across the street, walking until we arrive at the Cosmopolitan. The doorman greets me by name and I hear Macey mutter somethin
g unintelligible.
“Mr. McCormick,” the host says when I walk in. The line to get into Estiatorio Milos is long and I hear people grumble as we pass.
“I’m meeting some friends,” I tell him as I guide Macey into the restaurant, spotting the guys easily. I point in their direction so Macey knows where we’re heading. They all stand to greet us, which is something they’d never do if I were alone.
“Seth, Cory and Brady, this is Macey, an old friend from home.”
Macey takes the time to shake each of their hands, but it’s Brady who lingers too long. When he catches my eye and smirks I know what’s going through his mind without hearing the words. He finds her attractive. What he doesn’t know is that she’s completely off-limits.
When he slides into the booth to sit next to her, my hands clench at my sides and my teeth grind together. He’s sitting a little too close for comfort and I don’t like it. Nor do I like the way they’re looking at each other.
As soon as I sit down, my fingers are pulling the fabric of her dress up until her thigh is exposed. This doesn’t draw her attention away from what Brady is saying to her, which angers me slightly. She’s supposed to be focusing on me, not him. Call me a stingy fucker, but for the amount I’m paying her to be at my beck and call, she should be saddled up tight against me.
I place my palm on her leg and let my pinky inch closer to her pussy. She closes her legs, causing me to laugh. When she looks over, her cheeks are on fire and she’s glaring. I’m not sure why and I don’t really care.
Leaning in, I whisper, “It’ll be easier for me to finger you if you’re sitting next to me, that is unless you want my friends to know what I’m doing. You never know, they might want a turn.”
She gasps and moves closer. It’s a low blow, but had to be done. And until I said the words to her I never had any intention of touching her inappropriately in public, but maybe I should. Maybe that would excite her, get her to open up a bit. I can’t imagine this situation is ideal and had she not lost the insane amount of money she did earlier, she wouldn’t be here.
The waitress appears with our menus and asks for our drink orders. “What do you want to drink?”
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