by Sheila Grace
I suddenly felt like I had entered a parallel universe. Some insane cross between Fifty Shades of Grey, Twilight, and Pretty Woman, complete with a bat-shit crazy rich guy who looked like a vampire and was offering to pay money for a female companion. If I hadn’t just been attacked in the parking lot of the club, I would almost think this was a lame hidden camera show.
“Do you have your STD panel handy?” I shot back.
He took a sip of whisky and pointed to some papers lying on an antique desk across the room.
“Are you serious?” I asked in disbelief. “Let me see.”
He got up and walked over to the desk. When he came back and handed me a sheet of paper, I stared down at his name, followed by line after line of Negative printed next to every STD known to humankind, plus a few I didn’t recognize.
“Necessary in this day and age,” he said nonchalantly.
I looked up at him.
“Not for everyone. And sorry. Can’t help you. I’ve never had an STD test.”
He set his drink on the table and remained speechless, something I assumed didn’t happen often with him.
“You’ll need to have one done, and that’s another part of our agreement—no sex with anyone else during the time we would be together.”
“Does that go for you, too?”
“Of course,” he said calmly. “When was the last time you had unprotected sex?”
“I haven’t had unprotected sex.”
He paused again, and it was almost comical, because it was like I could see him running the odds in his head.
“But you have had sex before … Haven’t you?” he asked.
I looked down and stared at my lap.
“Contrary to popular belief, not everyone spends their entire college career fucking everything in sight.”
“But it does make the college experience more fun.”
When I looked up at him, he smiled disarmingly.
“Yeah?” I asked rhetorically. “Well, I wouldn’t know.”
“Are you—”
I laughed at his expression.
“Am I crazy? Religious? Crazy religious? Waiting for marriage? No, no, definitely not, and no. But I get it. You thought because I was working in a strip club, I would be up for anything. Makes sense, so I’m sorry to disappoint you. Now, if your offer is off the table, so to speak, I get it. Virgins are a definite no-no for thirty-year-old lotharios.”
“Hmm. Lothario? I think my buddy Bennett called me that once.”
I smiled as I rose from the couch.
“If the name fits …”
It was actually kind of a relief to know that my lack of sexual experience was a total turnoff for this guy. It took the edge off. It hadn’t made sense anyway—why this guy would have any interest in me. I saw him going one of two ways: exotic dancer who was up for anything or sophisticated socialite who would look good on his arm during business functions. And I was as far from either of those two as you could get.
“Can I borrow your phone?” I asked plainly.
He frowned at me.
“May I ask why?”
“I’m going to call a cab, go pick up my car, drive to my apartment, sleep all day, and then go to work in the hopes that I still have a job.”
“Then, no.”
“What?”
He reached over and picked up his whisky. I watched as he took a leisurely sip.
“Our deal comes with certain terms, and you working at that place isn’t one of them.”
“What deal? And which part of I’m a virgin at twenty-three and I don’t sleep with guys for money don’t you understand? No deal.”
I shook my head in disbelief and started pacing, worried all over again about this guy’s mental health.
“And I told you. I won’t fuck you until you beg me.”
I stopped, blushed, and tried to ignore the throbbing between my legs. Why was I so turned on?
“Very romantic,” I mumbled.
“I never said anything about romance.”
I gritted my teeth. He was an arrogant dick, which should have negated his hotness. Unfortunately, he was one of those guys who was so hot and so charming that he made it tempting to forget the fact that he was such a dick. Even worse, he made me want something that the rational side of my brain knew would end badly.
“This is getting very cliché. Do you have a contract for me to sign? Some deal where I stay here Thursday to Saturday as your sex slave?”
He clucked his tongue at me.
“My, my. What have you been reading? No, I expect you to live here for the duration of the summer.”
I shook my head.
“I can’t do that! I have an apartment, rent—”
“Which I will pay for.”
“I don’t get it. What do you get out of this?”
“Charity and misdeeds, all in one. I help you—charity. And in the process, I get what I want.”
“What exactly do you want, to be clear?”
“Generally whatever I can’t have. At the moment?”
He stood and walked over to me. I swallowed when I realized how much taller he was than me, despite the stupid platform Mary Janes I was still wearing. It hadn’t occurred to me how tall he was, seeing as in the past two days, I had mostly seen him sitting in a booth at the club. He reached up and tilted my chin until I was looking up at him.
“At the moment, Cass Flynn, I want you.”
“Why?” I gasped between choppy breaths.
He bent down, his mouth hovering millimeters from mine. When my eyes closed without my permission, his lips brushed mine so softly that it was like an electrical shock. I had to reach out and steady myself against his chest as a bolt of pleasure speared straight through the center of me. His arm slipped around my waist, pulling me closer as his thumb grazed my nipple. When I yelped in surprise and jerked against his grip, he pulled back.
“That’s why,” he said with amused satisfaction.
My eyes snapped open.
“I told you—no sex—”
He laughed.
“That was a far cry from sex. Besides, think of it as reciprocity. You get something you want; I get a taste of what I want. In the end, you might be surprised by what you want.”
I bit my lip and stepped away from him. He was wrong. I wouldn’t be surprised. Part of me—my body, specifically—already wanted him. The smarter part of me—my brain—knew getting involved with him was a bad idea, emotionally. Financially, if he was for real, it was a no-brainer. Then I thought about the car, this house … his suit from the night before. None of it was cheap—but it wouldn’t hurt asking for proof.
“How do I know you’re for real?” I asked shakily.
He took out his phone.
“Currently, the annual cost of attendance at this university is an estimated … thirty-five grand with living expenses, but—let’s be realistic and say fifty even.”
He smiled and walked away from me before disappearing into another room. He came back a minute later with three stacks of banded bills. When he threw one to me, I barely caught it. I flipped through the stack. Hundred-dollar bills. I swallowed.
“Where did you—”
He walked over and handed me the other stacks.
“This is half. At the end of the summer, you’ll get the other half, and if I’m feeling particularly generous, I might kick in for this law degree you’re contemplating, though I don’t recommend that particular career pursuit.”
My eyes widened.
“Do you know how much—”
“It costs to attend law school at this university? Right around a quarter of a million dollars. Or ten times what you hold in your hand.”
I shook my head again.
“Why would you do that?”
He shrugged.
“Because I can? Because I, unlike some people, don’t think you can take it with you? Because I’m bored? Take your pick.”
“Wow, I wish I could be so cavalier about mo
ney.”
“Now you can be.”
I paused and bit my lip.
“Can I think about this?”
“What is there to think about, lovely? What do you have to lose? It’s win-win for you.”
I cringed. I had, deep down, wished that I would meet a normal guy, fall in love, have him love me back—in other words: have a meaningful relationship instead of hooking up with a guy I met while working at a strip club. James McDevitt felt like a cartoon devil sitting on my shoulder.
Would I tell future boyfriends that I started the last summer before finishing my undergraduate degree working in a strip club and then ended that summer as the plaything for some unscrupulous player with money to burn?
I closed my eyes. Right now, I was holding in my hands nearly enough money to finish my last year of school without loans or Mom and Michael’s help, which I wasn’t getting anyway. There was no rational reason to turn down the offer. Because even if I didn’t sleep with him, I would still end the summer with almost enough to finish. I opened my eyes, looked him in the eye, and nodded.
“Okay.”
“Excellent.” He said it like he had been expecting my response all along. “Are you on birth control?”
As the color drained from my cheeks, I stared up at him.
“Simple question, lovely,” he said humorously.
“Y-yes,” I stammered.
“Just waiting for the right guy?”
His tone was still humorous and mocking. I shook my head.
“No, it’s … for medical reasons.”
The doctor had prescribed it for heavy bleeding, but I wasn’t about to tell this guy about my personal medical issues, even if I was discussing becoming his summertime live-in sex slave.
“Fair enough,” he said. “Do you want me to use condoms?”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Isn’t that a little presumptuous?” I snapped.
“Not in my experience.”
I stared at him, debating. Chances were that I wouldn’t sleep with him—but if I did, at least I had seen a copy of his STD panel. On the other hand, he was still a complete stranger. I nodded.
“Yes. Condoms.”
“Fine. Questions?”
I nodded.
“What about my stuff?”
“You can bring anything you need here. I’ll have logistics—” When his phone buzzed, he looked at it briefly before returning it to his pocket. “Anything else will be taken to a storage facility until you need it.”
I nodded uncertainly.
“Okay. Where will I stay?”
“There’s a guest bedroom; I’ll have it set up for you, but I’d like you to sleep in my room.”
I scrunched up my eyebrows.
“That’s not going to be weird? And how do I know you won’t just—”
He laughed again, but there was an edge to it this time.
“I’m not a rapist, or a necrophiliac. However, under this arrangement, I am allowed to touch you wherever and whenever I like—”
I stared up at him and started to shake my head.
“Uh, I don’t know …”
“There’s a panic button in the bedroom, if that makes you feel any better. You press that, and it will alert the local police department and a private firm contracted for security.”
“Who are you?” I whispered.
“I’m careful.”
He took out his wallet and handed me a credit card.
“I’ll have you added to the account by tomorrow. For any expenses.”
“Are you serious?”
“There’s nothing in your records to indicate you’re less than trustworthy.”
“My records,” I said dully. “What else do you know about me?”
“Perhaps more than you’d like me to. Oh, and I’ll need your measurements.”
I swallowed hard.
I had just made a deal with the devil.
Chapter 4: James
“What do I call you? Mr. McDevitt? Sir? Your highness? God? Jimbo?”
I liked this girl. She was entertaining, and she had a sarcastic tongue I could think of entertaining uses for.
“James is fine.”
She gave me a crooked smile.
“Well, James. Now that you own me, what’s next?”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, my hard-on came back with a vengeance.
“You’re quite saucy for the reluctant virgin.”
She looked down, her pink little lips pursing as she suppressed a smile.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
I laughed when her stomach snarled.
“Would you like something to eat?”
When she looked up at me, her expression was one of surprise, like she had assumed I would starve her.
“Okay.”
“Kitchen’s this way.”
She followed after me, her black Mary Janes clacking on the hardwood. When I stepped into the kitchen and gestured for her to go ahead of me, she took two steps before stopping and looking around. She whistled and turned back to look at me.
“You so don’t belong in this town.”
She walked over to the sink and reached for the soap, which caused her plaid skirt to rise enough that all I could think about was bending her over the marble counter, tearing off her panties, and burying my dick in that tight little pussy. Any other night, any other woman, and that was exactly what I’d be doing. For once in my life, I was looking forward to her capitulation more than I wanted the instant gratification, which was mildly unsettling.
“Have anything you’d like,” I said when she turned and gave me an uncertain look.
She nodded and began walking toward the refrigerator before stopping.
“You mind if I take these off?” she asked, pointing at her shoes.
“You don’t have to ask my permission. You’re not my submissive.”
She blushed again and leaned on the counter as she took off the heels. She really was tiny. I watched as she walked to the refrigerator in her bare feet and took out a yogurt. My phone buzzed again, and I regretted not turning the fucking thing off. Goddamn Madison could be obnoxious when she was drunk.
“Booty call?” Cass asked humorously as she searched the drawers for a spoon.
When I didn’t say anything, she laughed.
“Ha! Nailed it. What the hell? You obviously have chicks lining up to hop on your stick, so what’s up?”
“Hop on my stick? You have quite the mouth on you.”
“I said I was a virgin at twenty-three—not a saint. Why me, though? Why not any of the many willing?”
“Any of the many willing—I like that. Because easy can be synonymous with boring.”
“What about impossible?” she asked as she leaned against the counter.
She sucked a spoonful of strawberry yogurt from the spoon and smiled at me.
“I’m curious,” I said slowly. “What would be so bad about letting me fuck you over this counter right now?”
Her cheeks flushed. She could certainly dish out the attitude, but she was easily shocked—and I was hard as stone. She finished her yogurt in record time and rinsed the container.
“Recycling is under the sink,” I said, pointing.
“Good. If you didn’t recycle, the deal would have been off.”
She smiled again, opened the cabinet, and dropped the container in the can before washing her spoon. While she was preoccupied, I walked to the entry table, took the knife out of my pocket, and sliced open the package Irving had had delivered. When I came back, Cass was sitting at the edge of the couch like she was waiting for a dentist appointment.
“Bedtime,” I said dryly.
She gave me an apprehensive nod and stood.
“Do you mind if I shower?”
“Please, be my guest. Would you like company?”
Her eyes briefly widened before she smirked. When I handed her the box, she studied it suspiciously. I started down the hall to the mas
ter bedroom.
“Toothbrush, toiletries, towels—anything you need—it’s all in the bathroom.”
I looked back. She had paused to look at the art on the walls. The reality that one piece of artwork from this house could pay for her graduate education did not elude me. She was a microcosm of an ever-shrinking middle class that my father and those like him sucked dry.
Of course, I was complicit, or at the very least benefiting from the ever-widening class gap, courtesy of the one percent and the politicians in the pockets of people like my father. I knew that if this girl hadn’t been waiting tables in a strip club, there was no way she would have agreed to my arrangement.
I was, in my own way, taking advantage of her parents’ apathy and a middle class that more and more would feed its children to a virtually unregulated student-loan market. On the flip side, at least I was aware that the disparity between wage slaves and the ultra-wealthy was causing this country to go to shit. Too bad the masses wouldn’t notice until it was too late.
I pointed to the bathroom before walking back down the hall to pour two fingers of whisky and refill her wine glass. After setting them on the nightstand in the bedroom, I left and walked into the bathroom in the guest bedroom. First, I texted Irving about arranging to move Cass’s belongings from her apartment. Then I stripped out of my clothes and took a cold shower.
When I returned to the bedroom, the bathroom door was still closed. I dropped my towel and sighed as I pulled on a pair of cotton pajama pants. Seconds after I pulled them on, the door to the bathroom opened.
“How long have you—”
Cass stopped abruptly and stared at me with a look of shock as her eyes traced over the tattoos on my chest and arms. Assuming she couldn’t easily read Latin, I was relatively sure she had no idea what any of the script meant.
The black satin kimono she was wearing made her pale skin glow and set off her long red hair as it hung loose and damp down her back. I sighed and silently admitted that I had brought this misery upon myself.
“Finish your thought, lovely,” I prompted as her eyes dropped down before jerking up to my face.
“How long had you been planning to bring me back here—or do you keep lingerie on hand for every woman you bring home?”
“I knew I wanted you from the moment I saw you.” Her lips parted, and she stared at me again. “And if you ask me why again, I will bend you over and spank you,” I added without a trace of humor.