Trio

by P. F. Kozak

  Squelching the violent desire to kick him in the nuts, Lara tugged down her T-shirt and skirt. She clenched her fists until her fingernails dug painfully into her palms. “I won’t do it! Hell will freeze before I whore myself for an asshole like you.”

  The second Lara said the words, she knew she was in trouble. The shit had just gone from hip-deep to neck-deep and was about to close over her head.

  DiMarco clamped his mouth into a thin line, anger tightening his jaw. “What did you say?”

  She clarified. “I said eat shit, Angie! I won’t do it.” The words popped out before she thought about the consequences.

  “Bitch!” Without warning DiMarco struck her backhanded.

  Senses going haywire, Lara reeled back against the desk. Fiery lights danced in front of her eyes, blurring her vision. Cold shock flooded her veins. Her lip split, giving her a taste of her own blood.

  Her hand automatically rose, palm pressing against her swelling cheek. “Please, Angie,” she hastened to say. “Don’t…”

  DiMarco towered in front of her, looking ten feet tall and bulletproof. He fumbled for his belt buckle. “I think laying this across your ass will help you remember your place a bit better.”

  Heart tripping in her chest, she eyed the belt. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

  DiMarco ignored her. He folded his belt and smacked it against his palm. The crack of leather against flesh sounded ominously like a gunshot. “You better listen real well, baby doll. I want every goddamned cent that no-good bastard owes me. I don’t give a shit how you get the cash. Robbing a bank or sucking a dick, it makes no difference. Just get the money.”

  As if that miracle would occur.

  Lara felt limp and lifeless. Hopeless. No place to run. No place to hide. She’d just hit shit creek and there was no paddle in sight.

  Suddenly aware no miracle escape would present itself, she realized she was about to pay.

  Painfully.

  1

  Deminonde Ranch

  Fitzgerald, Nevada

  T he dressing room the dancers shared looked exactly like an orgy was about to take place. A lot of naked, writhing flesh. Women in various states of nudity hustled to get their costumes and makeup on.

  Leaning toward her own brightly lit mirror, Lara winced as she painted a crimson shade of lipstick over her mouth. DiMarco had given her one hell of a fat lip.

  “This is bullshit,” she muttered under her breath. Why should she be responsible for Donnie’s debt anyway? She wasn’t even married to him anymore. The divorce had gone through without a hitch last week. Two years of her life down the drain. Punishing her wasn’t right. Christ, it was hard enough figuring out how to salvage the remnants of her messed-up life.

  Ignoring the half-nude women, one of the night managers strode into the dressing room. Big, bald, and bad to the bone, he didn’t even look at the swarm around him. He’d seen enough tits and bare asses to last a lifetime. “Time to hustle those bodies, girls,” he announced. “Get out there and show some pussy and get the guys all horny. We got a full house tonight.”

  Glancing over her shoulder, Lara drew a deep breath. Time to paste on her smile and get ready to strip to the skin. The last thing she wanted to do, but it was necessary if she expected to eat and pay the rent.

  Recapping her lipstick, she tossed it aside. She stood up, expertly balancing on five-inch stiletto heels, complete with ankle cuffs. A black leather-and-chains halter top and black leather skirt completed her outfit. The snaps on the halter and skirt made it easy for her to tear them away. A pair of garters, fishnet hose, and skimpy thong panties completed her outfit. A badass bitch goddess ready to devour a few horny bastards and spit out their bones.

  She headed toward the exit behind the other girls. Jim eyed her with approval. He grabbed her arm as she passed, pulling her back. The other women left without a backward glance. “I need to see you a minute.”

  Lara bristled. “Get your fucking hands off me, okay? I’m not in the mood to be manhandled anymore tonight.”

  Jim’s hand immediately dropped away. “Hey, don’t bite my head off. Miss Helen wants to see you in her office.”

  That stopped her dead. “She does?” Miss Helen was Helen DiMarco, Angelino’s sister and Madame of the Demimonde. A stylish woman in her late forties, she gave the place its public face and made sure the line from classy to trash was never crossed.

  Jim nodded. “As soon as possible.”

  Lara moistened her lips. Oh, shit. Miss Helen did the hiring and firing. Getting her ass canned would deliver the coup de grace on an already terrible day. “What does she want?”

  He shrugged. “She didn’t say. Just hustle ass.”

  Lara hustled.

  When she opened the door to Helen DiMarco’s office, the woman herself was settled behind her desk. All business and no nonsense, she pulled no punches. “I heard my brother got a little hands-on with you at the casino,” she said by way of a greeting.

  Emotion tightened Lara’s throat. “Yeah. He’s ragging my ass about the money Donnie owes him.” She pointed to her fat lip. “That son of a bitch busted me in the fucking mouth. He’s damn serious about getting his money.”

  Helen DiMarco frowned. “That’s not right. We don’t do business that way. I’ll talk to him about manhandling you girls. Bruised merchandise doesn’t sell.”

  Lara plopped down on the nearest chair. “Like he gives a shit,” she announced, her tone flat with disillusionment. “All Angie wants is his money. If I had it, I’d pay it back just to shut him up.” She leaned forward, burying her face in her hands. There might have been a light at the end of the tunnel, but it sure as hell felt like the oncoming train. If it weren’t for bad luck, she wouldn’t have any at all.

  Leaning backing her chair, Miss Helen slid off her glasses. She tapped one earpiece against the string of pearls around her neck. “So let me help you get it.”

  The words filleted through. Suspicion rose. Lara lifted her head, frowning. “Did Angie put you up to this?”

  Miss Helen raised one hand in a gesture meant to placate. “Don’t get your feathers in a ruffle, honey.” She slipped her glasses back on and glanced at a folder on her desk. “I’ve got a little proposition that might help you settle up with Angie.”

  Lara pulled a face. “Sucking dick, right?”

  Miss Helen chuckled. “Oh, definitely.”

  “Any girl can do that.”

  Miss Helen tapped her folder. “My clients aren’t asking for any girl. They want you.”

  A puff of disgust escaped. “A lot of guys want to fuck me. Doesn’t mean I want to fuck them back. Why can’t they pick one of the working girls? I might strip, but that doesn’t mean I give it away to anyone who wants a piece.”

  “I did explain that not all the girls working here were available. However my clients prevailed on me to speak with you, present their case so to speak. Since they spend a hell of a lot of money at our establishments, I am doing that.”

  “Wait, are you seriously suggesting that I have sex with these guys?” she asked, the steel in her voice leaving no doubt as to her feelings on the subject. “You know I don’t whore myself.” Though you were willing to give it up to get out of hot water with Angie, came the damning thought.

  That truth, however ugly, revealed a lot. She had to admit that, yeah, she’d use sex if necessary to get her way. What woman wouldn’t? What woman didn’t?

  “Were I to make an introduction, how far you proceeded would be entirely up to you,” Helen DiMarco said, hinting. “As would any compensation you might require for your time.”

  Ah. The key word. Compensation. “And you think I might be interested in what these guys have to offer a girl?”

  A subtle nod. “What you get, you’d keep. The customer pays for the amenities of our extensive facilities. I’m sure I could persuade Jim to take you off the schedule to accommodate a little vacation.” She smiled in a way that said Lara would be a fool to turn the
offer down.

  Maybe she would be.

  Lara felt her stomach tie into knots. She already knew the common man didn’t qualify to walk through the doors of the Demimonde Ranch. Only VIPs, the very wealthy, were granted access to the rarefied atmosphere of debauchery. Threesomes. Foursomes. Orgies. Nothing was considered taboo. A twenty-minute drive from Reno was all it took to reach heaven on earth. All private—and legal—in the great state of Nevada.

  Tempting. Very tempting.

  The girls working at the ranch were independent contractors. They set their own prices. But even if she were to consider the idea, one problem loomed. “I’m not licensed.”

  Eyes crinkling around the edges, Miss Helen subtly closed the folder and slid it under her day planner. “For now let’s just say I’m making an introduction of consenting adults. The gentlemen in Parlor 3 have already made arrangements to rent our Presidential Suite for the week. It would be nobody’s business if you were to join them there.”

  Lara thought a moment. Nobody’s business sounded pretty good to her.

  The parlor looked and felt more like a sports bar than a place where sexual negotiations regularly took place. Two men sat on stools in front of a small wet bar, drinks in hand, making small talk, and ignoring the wide-screen TV stretched across the wall.

  Seeing her, the man on the right lowered the bottle he was about to drink from. Gaze skimming, a small smile turned up one corner of his mouth. “Well, who have we here?”

  Lara couldn’t resist the smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. “I believe you requested my, ah, company.”

  The man’s grin grew wider in appreciation. “I did. I’m Nick Conway.” He indicated his buddy. “This is Jared Montgomery.”

  Jared Montgomery smiled. “God, you’re perfect in every way.”

  At least they appreciated her. “Thanks.”

  Nick Conway slid off his stool. He walked over, circling around to see her from every angle.

  Lara eyed him back. He had the look she liked; tall and broad shouldered with narrow hips and long legs. Dressed casually in faded jeans and a torn T-shirt, he didn’t look like he had a dime to his name. He obviously had time to work out and keep those abs rippling, though. Raw energy radiated around him. He had the look of a young male tiger that had its prey squarely in sight. He didn’t look very old, maybe twenty-six or somewhere close to that age.

  Nick came around in front of her and stood. One hand casually brushed through his long sandy blond hair as his gaze dropped to her mouth, then her breasts. “I’ve seen you dance,” he said. “You’re hotter than hell.”

  An unexpected thrill buzzed her senses. Electricity crackled and popped in the air around them. The energy pouring off him all but zapped her senseless. “Is that why you asked for me?”

  “Yes.” His grin grew wider. “I’d sure like to find out.”

  “I’m sure you would.” A rise of delicious heat set to simmering between Lara’s legs. Heat drenched her thin panties. The mesmerizing glitter of his green eyes seemed to enchant. And, oh, his lips. They were perfectly formed. Nick Conway had one of the most sensual mouths she’d ever seen.

  Unbidden erotic thoughts swirled in her mind. Lust coalesced into a hard knot deep inside, the beginning of an ache that refused to be easily satisfied. It didn’t take much imagination to guess what Nick Conway’s lips would feel like pressed against hers. She could picture their tongues dancing together while his cock stuffed every last inch of her sex.

  Lara fanned a hand in front of her face. Man, oh man. She hadn’t expected to be blindsided by this hunk. If she had her druthers, she’d lead him off to the nearest bedroom and give him everything she had, and more. No charge.

  She shook her head to clear it, trying to ignore the signals her body sent her brain. This wasn’t a date. It was business. “I’m not easy and I don’t come cheap.”

  Nick Conway gave her a slow smile. “Somehow I had a feeling you’d say that.” He turned to his partner. “So what do you think? Is she the one we want?”

  Jared Montgomery’s eyebrows shot straight up. A glimmer of unholy amusement lit his intense gaze. “Oh, definitely. She’s got the look.”

  “The votes are all in,” Nick said. “You’re the one, babe.”

  “They said you wanted a—” The words suddenly clogged her throat. “A sex slave for a week.”

  Nick Conway nodded. “Right.”

  Her knees trembled. Things were getting a little bit harder now. She’d never bartered sex for cold hard cash. Strange, yet oddly exhilarating. She was actually considering going through with this. “What exactly would I be expected to do?”

  Jared Montgomery chuckled as he slid off the stool. Nothing ugly about him, either. Though he was just as tall as his friend, his build was leaner, more sinewy. A body definitely made for speed, long-term endurance. Icy blue eyes ruled under a mane of short, fashionably spiked black hair. His T-shirt went past radical into mind-bending. Demons tortured a half-naked woman in some sort of medieval dungeon. His own arms were ringed with something tribal.

  Jared crossed the parlor, circling behind her. His hands settled on her hips, warm and intimate. “You’d be our very own sex toy, expected to fuck me and my partner in any way we want, anytime we want.” Warm breath tickled the back of her neck. “Think you’d like that?”

  Temptation surged. Lara gulped and swallowed hard. His statement suggested multiple possibilities, every damn one deliciously carnal. A new vision flashed across her mind’s screen. Two wet tongues flicking against her skin, and two cocks eager to fill every cranny and crevice possible. A shiver took hold. Every nerve ending tingled.

  Lara eased her ass back against Jared’s hips. His body reacted instantly. Yes, he was definitely attracted.

  A subtle power play began. The men had the money. She had the warm, luscious pussy. They all wanted something from the other. Kinky sex, a wild ride, and no commitments all of a sudden sounded too damn good to pass up.

  She stepped out of Jared’s hold. “Hands off the merchandise, honey.”

  Jared shrugged good-naturedly. “You get to squeeze the bread before you buy,” he pointed out.

  Lara winked. “What you’re squeezing doesn’t go stale, babe. It’s going to cost to get what you want.”

  Nick Conway’s eyes glinted in challenge. “Name your price.”

  His eyes spoke volumes. Pure need radiated in their depths. By the tone of his voice, he wasn’t interested in negotiation.

  Lara tossed her head, enjoying the feel of long hair tumbling around her shoulders. Control belonged to her. She liked it. A lot. It made her feel incredibly sexy. Invincible. “Sex slaves don’t come cheap.”

  Jared Montgomery stared at her through narrowing eyes. Hard knowledge filled his gaze. His body was coiled tightly, a bundle of sparking sexual nerves. “How much?”

  A nice round figure popped into her head.

  One million dollars.

  2

  With a man on each arm, Lara walked toward the waiting limo in a daze. She hardly believed the surreal turn her night had taken, like stepping into the Twilight Zone. She felt like Cinderella. Only there were two Prince Charmings to sweep her off her feet.

  She’d gotten the million. Cynic that she was, Lara still found that impossible to fathom. A quick phone call to Helen DiMarco’s office had revealed that, yes, the guys were good for that sum. Their check would certainly cash.

  Holy shit.

  Her body was worth a cool million dollars.

  Except that she hadn’t collected yet. That would come later. After she’d given them one full week of control over her. Whatever they wanted to do, they could. Without restraint.

  Lara shivered despite the heat of the desert climate. She had been so hot a moment ago that perspiration soaked her skin, dotting her forehead. She now felt stone cold. The leather halter and skirt clung uncomfortably. She felt like she’d faint if she didn’t sit down soon.

  Jared helped her inside th
e car, reminding her to duck her head. “Careful, babe.”

  Unable to speak, Lara slid onto the seat. The interior of the car was dim and cool, shielding her from the outside world but not from her thoughts. For a moment she wished she could simply close her eyes and go on to no particular destination, just exist in quiet limbo forever.

  What were these guys going to think when they found out she wasn’t really a sex goddess? Appearances aside, Lara had to admit she could still count her ex-lovers on one hand. One of those had been her husband. That didn’t exactly add up to a lot of carnal experience, especially considering that most of her lovers had been straight vanilla in their sexual tastes.

  Lara supposed she’d have to wing it, go with the flow. Relax and try to enjoy herself. She’d always followed the rise and fall of her wild and inexplicable impulses. Maybe this time she’d have better luck.

  With Jared taking one side, Nick slid in. Sandwiched between two good-looking men couldn’t be a bad way to start.

  “Are you okay?” Nick asked.

  She smiled. “Terrific.” If only the unease churning in her stomach would cease.

  Up front, separated from them by a pane of tinted glass, the driver waited for instructions.

  “Drive around and show us the sights,” Jared instructed through the intercom. He turned to Lara and grinned. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  She shook her head. The car shifted into motion, riding so smoothly it didn’t even seem to be moving. “I’ve never gotten to ride in a limousine before.” Hell, she didn’t even have a car anymore. Donnie had taken off in it. Nice of the bastard to leave her to get around on foot. Public transportation definitely sucked.

  “Oh, you’ll enjoy it.” Nick snagged a bottle of champagne from the built-in bar. “Let the party begin.” He poured three glasses, handing them around. Probably real crystal. Clients of the Demimonde Ranch were spared no luxury.

  Lara accepted hers, sipping the bubbly wine from a fluted glass. The slightly tart vintage tingled, rolling over her tongue and down her throat. It tasted really good. Excellent, in fact. Sure beat the hell out of the buck ninety-eight wine coolers she usually purchased. She took a full swallow. “So what do you guys do?”