by Jo Raven
“You tell me.” He glares daggers at me, and I’m glad the reception desk is between us. Shane is pretty scary when he’s pissed. “You’ve been,” he twirls a finger by his ear, “totally out of it for the past ten fucking minutes.”
“You timed him this time?” Seth, Shane’s half-brother, slaps him on the back and leans over the desk to look at the computer screen. “Who do I have next, R? Ah, I see it. Got it.”
“He keeps spacing out, right, Seffers?” Shane asks Seth as if I’m not right here. “That’s fucking love, right there.”
Seth laughs. “Spill, R. Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Shut up, the both of you,” I snark and pretend to be checking the schedule on the screen.
These two may be half-brothers, but to me they look like twins. Dark and tall, with soft black hair and chocolate eyes, they’re hot. Straight as an arrow of course, which I know for a fact, and good friends, but that’s not the only reason they don’t stir anything in me.
Jason.
The days have passed in a blur of work and meetings about Soul Stain’s visit, but the nights… I’m pretty sure I’m getting carpal syndrome from jerking off every night to the memory of Jason.
Jason standing in my apartment, looking dangerous and sexy.
Jason taking his tank top off.
Jason on his knees.
Jason going down on me.
Jesus fuck.
“So what happened with that bunny?” Seth grabs Shane around the shoulders and tosses a wink my way before steering his half-brother back to his booth. “You sure you weren’t the one wearing the pink tutu?”
I shake my head and sigh. Idiots. Also, it’s not true I keep spacing out.
Is it?
Pushing back from the computer, I look up when the doorbell dings and a customer enters. A pretty blonde who smiles at me and… I know her.
Okay, it’s not a customer, it’s Shane’s girl, Cassie.
“Hey, R.” She waves at me, her gaze already flicking in the direction of Shane’s booth. “Is my favorite boy with a customer or free? Can you please check your super-duper planner?”
“And if he’s free?” I arch a brow at her. “What’s up?”
A quick shrug. “I just want to say hi. Didn’t get to see him this morning.”
That’s all? Frowning, I wave her toward the booth. “He’s free.”
I lean over the desk as she skips in the indicated direction, and I see Shane come out to meet her. He has this huge grin splitting his face in two, and he grabs her in his arms and swings her around.
“Missed you, baby,” she says, and then they’re kissing.
No special occasion. It’s not the first time one of the girls comes in to see one of the Damage Boyz. Or that one of the boyz goes out of his way to buy his girl something nice, or take her out to dinner.
It’s like… like they can’t be apart for more than a few hours before missing each other so much they can’t stand it. I don’t really get it.
When Ocean sent me away, I missed him like hell. When Livvy died, well… I rub at my chest, at the phantom pain there, over the fabric that’s hiding a scar on my skin, and in my heart. She was my best friend at the trailer park when I was a kid. We got crazy one day, stole a car and drove as fast as we could—like my brother would do in illegal street races, to get money for us.
We crashed, Livvy died, and I… Yeah, I still miss her. And although Ocean still blames himself for it, I don’t.
Point is… How do you miss someone you’ve only just seen? As if you can’t live without them for five minutes. As if you can’t breathe.
Jesus.
It’s ridiculous. Totally stupid. And the way Shane is holding her… like he wants to meld with her. She’s kissing him like she can’t stop. They’re so… in love. So in need of one another.
They seem so fucking happy.
And it has nothing to do with me, so I don’t know what this hollow pit in my stomach is, and why an image of Jason flashes through my mind like a spark.
Nothing to do with me at all.
It also doesn’t explain why I pass every night by the street where I know Jason hangs out. Working. Picking up customers.
I wish I could say it doesn’t bother me. That I understand why. Why not do something, anything else for a living? Does he want this?
Shouldn’t he be trying harder to get out of that rut?
I know Ocean has talked to him about it. Jesse too. I sort of eavesdropped on a couple of their discussions, and I know they’re also wondering why he won’t take them up on their offers to help him get out.
It’s as if he doesn’t want to.
He’s a grown-up, I remind myself. What he does or doesn’t do is his own damn business. Certainly not mine.
And there’s no reason for me to drive around the block and roll through the street—his street—again. What am I doing? He isn’t here, which means he’s with a customer. Or at home. It’s just that…
That I haven’t seen him in the past couple of days. Here, I mean. When I drive by. Not that I came looking for him or anything.
Not that I expected a repeat of what happened last time.
Fuck, no.
I mean, so what if I did? I could pay again. Everyone else is.
No, no, Jesus. It’s not the first time I think about this, and it’s driving me crazy. I won’t be just a customer. Jason’s customer. A job.
Then what do you want? I ask myself, and predictably I get no answer.
I should just go home, eat something, get some sleep. It’s the stress of this upcoming event, I decide, that’s making me antsy.
And of course, right when I make the decision and turn around once more to head home, I see him.
He’s talking with a tall guy in a suit, or rather the guy is talking to him, and backing him into the brick wall of the building.
Jason shakes his head, shoves at the guy.
The guy doesn’t move.
Red mist descends over my vision. Without realizing, I find myself braking and stopping the pick-up, climbing out and marching over to them.
To him.
Jason doesn’t notice me until I’ve shoved the man to the side and out of my way. “No,” I say.
Jason blinks at me, and his face pales. “Raine?”
“No, you’re not going with him.”
Now his brows draw together and he glowers at me. “Really? Fuck you, Raine.”
“That’s the idea,” I mutter, and shove again at the guy who’s cursing at me. “You stay out of this.”
“I talked to him first!” the guy splutters. He’s tall with glasses and really bad taste in clothes. I mean, even I can tell. “You can’t just butt in.”
I ignore him, meet Jason’s glare. “I’ll pay, dammit. I’ll pay for one night with you. Tell me how much.”
He swallows hard, and I watch the knot move in his throat. A light stubble shadows his jaw, as if he didn’t shave this morning. His dark eyes are brilliant in the neon street lights, and his mouth…
Fuck, I can’t stop looking at it, imagining it on my dick, on my chest, on my throat. On my lips. I’m standing so close, I can hear him breathing hard, I can see the flush on his cheeks. I can smell him, and it makes my own mouth water.
“Goddammit,” he whispers, and glances from the balding guy back to me. “You mean it.”
It’s not a question, but I reply anyway. “Yeah.”
For some reason I can’t quite explain, I do. I’m not letting this ugly bastard, or anyone else, fuck Jason.
Sinners burn in hell. Aunt Martha’s words echo in my head, a soundtrack to all the filthy things my fantasy enacts with Jason. You will burn in hell.
Dammit. This is hell already.
His eyes are wide, darker than ever, so dark and deep they’re swallowing me, losing me in a maze unlike any other. “Fine, then. Where?”
“My place,” I say and reaching down, I take his hand and tug. “Come on.”
Jason m
utters something that might be a curse and follows me, his hand hot against my palm, his long fingers clasping mine in a strong grip.
I don’t even glance at the other guy as I lead Jason away to my truck. For tonight at least, he’s mine.
Chapter Ten
Jason
What the hell’s going on? Raine is taking me to his apartment, and it’s not because I’m beaten up or cold, not this time. Not because I owe him something, either, but because he wants…
He wants me.
No, I correct myself and barely refrain from hitting my head against the dashboard to sort my stupid thoughts. Not me. He wants a blowjob. He wants sex. He wants me to pleasure him.
Like every other guy.
He could have picked any hooker, that stupid, hopeful inner voice insists. And he picked me.
Jesus, no. You know how this works. He came to you because he knows you. It was easy. His brother probably told him where you hang out, and…
But my mind stops there. The thought of Raine asking his brother where to find me for paid sex is too much, even for me. Ocean seems so protective.
I lean my head on the window, the coolness soothing on my forehead. As if I really know Ocean. Ocean is protective of his brother, not me. Sure, he has been helping me out, and I’m so fucking grateful. But I’m not… not his. Not family.
My throat closes. What the fuck. I must be more tired than I realized if the thought hits me so hard. I knew this. I do know it. But Raine kinda makes me wish for things. Things I can’t fucking have, or even dream about.
Bastard.
I glare at him for good measure as he keeps driving, but look away when he glances at me.
He’s a paying customer, I remind myself, and it just goes to show how fucked-up I am if I have to keep reminding myself of this simple fact.
Cut the crap. Relax. Smile. Act nice.
Easier said than done. It’s like I’m a mass of boiling resentment and confusion and need, and since when can’t I keep it bottled inside? This endless drag with Simon, the stress and the beatings sure aren’t helping.
But when we stop at a traffic light, I can’t help but look at him again, and that delicious tingle down my spine starts again, enough to make me shift uncomfortably in my seat. He’s staring straight ahead, his profile serious, those full lips pressed together, the dark brows drawn in a frown, his jaw tight. I mean, yeah, he’s handsome. We’ve established that.
A handsome bastard.
Doesn’t change anything.
When he parks and turns toward me, I’m already opening my door and climbing out, to avoid his gaze.
I can do this. I really can.
Hell, I have no fucking choice in the matter. It’s swim or drown, and giving up ain’t in the cards until I get my whole gang out of this town and somewhere safe.
After that, all bets are off, and I try not to think too hard about that as I follow Raine up to his apartment.
“How do you want me?” I ask, throwing my jacket on the back of the sofa and rubbing my chilled hands together to warm them up. “Shall I strip?”
I want this over with. I’m scared of the way my body reacts to Raine, and not only that. I need more customers, and the quicker I finish up tonight, the better. I’m bone-tired. As the warmth of the apartment starts to seep into me, I have to stifle a yawn.
So not sexy.
Raine hasn’t said anything yet, and I’m still avoiding his gaze, so instead of asking again, I drag my light blue tank top over my head and let it drop to the floor. He’s turned on the lamp in the corner again today, and in its faint light I hope he won’t pay too much attention to my new bruises. Don’t want a repeat of the other night.
I have to remember to hide them, maybe with some make-up base. Mayleen could hook me up, she’s got the biggest make-up stash I’ve ever seen, and not all of it stolen.
Shaking my head, I trail my hand on the back of the sofa, walking around it. Not every customer likes having sex with a bruised whore, much less—
“Jason.”
His voice stops me in my tracks, and my shoulders hunch. Dunno why I’m bracing like this, my muscles tensing.
Okay, not true, I do know: I always tense, my nerve endings burning, when I’m with a customer, and the latest sessions with Simon and Company have done a number on me. It’s just too much. No reprieve. No breathing space. And the itch for the drug is getting stronger, getting out of hand.
This is fucking bad.
Not all customers hurt you, I tell myself and repeat the words in my mind like a chant, but tell that to my body that’s braced for pain. My hand clenches on the back of the sofa, the other curling into a fist.
“Jason?”
Plastering on a smile, I make myself release my death hold on the back of the sofa and turn toward him.
My mind goes quiet. A different tension runs through my body, because shit, he’s hot. He’s shed his jacket, and the way his soft gray T-shirt molds over his broad chest and shoulders is short-circuiting my brain.
Not to mention the worn blue jeans hugging slim hips and long legs, or his face… Damn. The dark scruff on his jaw suits him.
I blink. Lick my lips. That tingling sensation is back, warmth flooding my insides, pooling behind my balls.
Christ. What was I doing? Wasn’t I supposed to be doing something?
My job. That’s right.
“Jason.”
“Present,” I whisper, and hope my voice sounds sexy and not fucking raw. I run my gaze up and down his body for show, then have to drag it away when it snags on the bulge between his legs, my throat going dry. “And accounted for. What will it be tonight?”
He opens his mouth. Closes it. I’ve managed to confuse him, it seems.
Good. I make my move before he puts his thoughts into words. Easier this way. Push them in the right direction, give them what they want before they get creative and think up fucked-up ways to get it.
Sucking them off is the easiest. If they go along with it, they won’t even get it up for a fuck, and it suits me just fine, even though fucking makes me more money.
I haven’t even told him how much I charge. What’s wrong with me today?
“Tell you what,” I say, keeping my voice low, soothing and hopefully sultry as I stalk toward him, trying to decide if I should push him against the wall or have him sit down for more control. I pat the condoms stashed in my back pocket. “Just for you, a blowjob just forty bucks.” Because I’m an idiot. Normally I charge ten bucks more.
“Jason… Listen.”
But that would be a fucking bad idea, whatever he has to say. I grab his hand and drag him toward the dark blue sofa. The furniture is so conservative, so male. So normal. I give him a small shove, and he lets himself sink against the big cushions, his eyes wide.
“Relax,” I tell him as I kneel between his legs, his muscular, denim-clad thighs on either side of me. “Sit back. Let me take care of you.”
His scent is stronger here, his musk filling my senses, and I’m at eye level with that fascinating bulge.
He mutters something, drawing my attention to his mouth. His lips part and a sudden, burning urge to kiss him blasts through me. I can almost taste him on my tongue, imagine his scent turning into taste, bittersweet and heady like a sip of Jack, imagine driving my tongue into his mouth, wringing one of those deep moans out of him.
God. I haven’t been able to get the sound out of my mind, and I shift where I’m kneeling, a hot current flooding my back, making my whole body clench.
He lifts a hand to my shoulder, fingertips trailing on my neck, and I flinch. Oh fuck, I’ve lingered too long.
“Let me,” I say again, attempt another smile and make the mistake of looking up into his eyes. They’re such a gorgeous blue with those long, dark lashes… I’m caught and sinking deep. “Let me,” I whisper and reach for his zipper.
But his hand on my shoulder tightens, keeps me still on my knees. “Wait.”
“What is it?”<
br />
“Slow down. I just… wanted to talk.” He swallows, shadows shifting in his gaze. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”
“You liked it just fine last time,” I snap, quite reasonably in my opinion. Hey, I’m a hooker. This is my job. “And this is what you brought me here for.”
I cut a pointed look at the tent in the front of his pants, his cock so hard its shape is outlined in the soft denim.
And damn, this brings back again the memory of sucking him off last time—his size, his thickness, the way he gripped my hair, the way he moaned…
Fuck, enough. I lift a hand and grip his wrist, fully intending to free myself of his hold, do what I came here to do and go.
Before I make my move, though, he lets go with a sigh and sprawls back, observing me from under lowered lashes.
The irritation ain’t something new, but the sting of disappointment comes out of nowhere. It’s as if I wanted him to keep his hand there, to keep talking to me. To insist I stop, take my time. That it’s up to me, that it’s not business but—
But what? Seriously, Jason?
The real world comes back into focus, laser-sharp. When I reach for his button and zipper, I don’t fumble, and if my hands shake, I don’t even notice, all my attention on undoing his pants and freeing that impressive hard-on.