by Kendall Ryan
I grin hungrily at her, and she gives her head a tiny shake. She knows how I feel about her in tights. They usually end up ruined on our bedroom floor not long after she’s put them on. Why should tonight be any different?
Stopping in front of the microphone, Sienna smiles brightly at the crowd. Her eyes light up whenever she talks about dance, and in this moment, she’s practically beaming.
She’s been supportive of my career change too. I’m now a full-time author and motivational speaker. Who would have thought, right?
It turns out, men need more help in the bedroom than they’d been letting on, and the seminars I’ve given around the country have all sold out. I help couples achieve greater intimacy, and I help guys learn to slow the hell down and make everything about pleasing their partner.
I’ve released two books and am currently writing a third—with Sienna’s help, of course. I also sold the company, Allure, to my friend Gia, who expanded the operation to include high-end female escorts too. Ryder is still happily employed there. I guess some things never change.
“Thank you all so much for coming,” Sienna says sunnily into the microphone. “The children have worked hard, and I’ve been so pleased, along with our entire teaching staff. Thank you for trusting us with your precious ballerinas. We have a wonderful show for you today. Enjoy.”
And with a small smile and a dip of her head, Sienna scurries back behind the curtain and the lights dim. An older instructor with a gray bun emerges first, and ten miniature ballerinas follow like little ducklings in a row. With a slow beat, the music begins, and I can see Sienna peeking from behind the curtain, obviously pleased. When her eyes meet mine, I give her a wink, and her smile grows.
Later, once all eight classes have performed their routines, Sienna closes the recital with words of gratitude. Her voice is a little shaky, and it kills me not to be right by her side, holding her hand. But I know they’re happy tears forming in her eyes, and I also know she’s more than strong enough to handle this and anything else that comes her way.
When we leave, I pull my wife into my arms and press a kiss against the column of her throat. “I’m so proud of you, angel.”
She grins and squeals, “I actually freaking did it!”
“Was there any doubt?” I chuckle. “You’re amazing.”
• • •
We head to the steak house I made reservations at to meet Ryder and our parents for a celebratory dinner. We’re the last to arrive, mostly because Sienna shook the hand of every parent, hugged every grandparent, and high-fived every kid in the building before we left. As far as I was concerned, she was the real star of the show today.
Ryder is seated next to my mom, and they’re deep in conversation about something when we approach. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson rise to their feet and pull Sienna in for a long hug when we stop beside the table.
“Today was amazing,” her mother says as I pull out Sienna’s chair and help her into it.
“Thank you, all of you, for being there,” Sienna says.
The server chooses that moment to stop by our table and take our drink orders. Everyone orders something to match the celebration—champagne, gin and tonic, wine . . . except Sienna.
“Ginger ale, please,” she says, her voice soft.
I frown, wondering if her stomach is bothering her again. God, I hope not, because she’s chosen a restaurant she loves, and she deserves to enjoy herself tonight.
Her mother’s mouth quirks into a funny expression as soon as the server scurries away. “Sienna? Do you have something to tell us?” Apparently, it doesn’t escape her mother’s notice that Sienna would normally order a glass of wine with dinner.
I reach for her hand under the table and give it a squeeze, my thumb touching the diamond solitaire I placed there on our wedding day last year.
“Actually, I have an announcement to make,” I say, but am interrupted by Sienna’s mother letting out a squeal of joy. I chuckle and continue. “Sienna’s pregnant. Four months along. We’re due in the fall.”
The two soon-to-be grandmas high-five each other across the table with yelps of excitement, and Ryder shakes my hand with a huge grin. Sienna’s dad pulls her into a hug, and everyone’s gaze drops to her still nearly flat belly as she rests one hand there.
God, she’s so perfect, my own eyes begin to well with tears, but I quickly blink the emotion away.
From that point on, the dinner conversation is dominated by our upcoming baby, with bits of the recital mixed in. Sienna looks so happy and beautiful as she talks about her plans to work throughout the pregnancy, and her plans to nurse, and how we want to decorate the baby nursery in gray and white. She manages to slip in bits and pieces about my writing and tour schedule, pride alight in her eyes as she does.
After I pay the tab, Sienna’s mother leans close to me, patting my forearm. “You’re a wonderful son-in-law, Case.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
“And if you wanted to slip Roger an advance copy of your next book, I’m just saying, I wouldn’t hate that.”
A deep chuckle vibrates in my chest as I nod. I so don’t want to know the gory details about my in-laws’ sex life, so I’m thankful that the promise of a book is enough to close that particular topic.
Christ.
On the drive home, Sienna lays her head against my shoulder, gazing out the window, looking contemplative. She’s quiet, and I’m not sure what’s on her mind.
When I pull into the garage and help her from the car, she shakes her head with a quiet groan. I know she’s not that far along yet and is perfectly capable of getting around on her own, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop taking care of her.
There was a time in my life when I didn’t know if I’d ever get here. Hell, there were many, many years when I never imagined myself having a wife, or a baby. And now that I do, I want to enjoy each moment as much as possible. And if that means opening doors, and carrying her over thresholds, and bringing her breakfast in bed, then I’m more than happy to do it. I know exactly how blessed I am.
Inside the marble foyer, I flip on the lights. Sienna braces one hand against my forearm as she leans down to remove her high heels one at a time.
“You’re quiet. Is everything okay?”
She nods. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”
It’s been a long day, that’s for sure. After removing my own shoes, I get her a glass of water and help her up the stairs.
When we enter the bedroom, I’m half-hard already, but I’m determined to get my body to behave. Sienna’s exhausted and I intend to let her sleep, even if my dick has other ideas.
But when she removes her dress and tights and carries them to the walk-in closet, wearing nothing but a black thong and lacy bra, I go from half-hard to completely erect in about six seconds. The way her ass jiggles when she walks, the fullness of her breasts, the tumble of golden curls that spill down her back . . . it’s a gorgeous sight.
I try to ignore it and work on unbuttoning my white dress shirt.
When Sienna emerges, her mouth quirks into a smile as she looks me over. “Hmm. What’s this?” Her gaze drops to the front of my dress pants, which are sporting an obvious bulge.
I grin crookedly. “It’s not nice to laugh at a man, sweet wife.”
She giggles again before straightening her lips. “Right. Sorry.”
Yes, I get that worked up just by watching you undress. Her smile tells me she’s amused by this.
“I know you’re exhausted. I’ll be fine. Get in bed.”
She lingers, watching me a moment longer before she finally obeys, pulling back the crisp white sheet and fluffy duvet to slide beneath them.
I finish my before-bed ritual and join her. Sienna rolls closer, nestling into my side. Her fingers slide over my firm stomach, moving lower. She stops at the waistband of my boxer briefs, and I suck in a sharp inhale.
“It’s also not nice to tease a man,” I murmur, turning my head to plant a kiss at her t
emple.
Working her hand beneath the elastic, Sienna takes me in her palm. I’m still fully hard, and she leisurely strokes all eight inches of me.
“Fuck, that feels good,” I say on a groan. “You sure? You don’t have to.”
She moves closer, tilting her chin toward mine. I capture her mouth in a soft kiss.
“I know,” she says. “Is this what you want?”
“This is nice,” I say, kissing her neck.
She hums. “Nice?”
“Very nice,” I say, grinning against her lips.
“Do you want my mouth or my pussy?”
My sweet wife, ladies and gentlemen. In public, she’s the perfect lady, but in the bedroom, with me? She’s fucking filthy, and I love it.
My heart trips over itself as my pulse rate speeds up. “I want to slide into your warm pussy so deep that you can’t help but moan my name.”
She makes a wordless sound of agreement.
“But I won’t do anything you don’t want.”
Her hand moves a little faster. “I want it.”
Seconds later, I sit up, shoving down my boxers and dropping them over the side of the bed, and then I’m tugging Sienna’s panties down and positioning myself between her legs. I kiss her neck, her breasts, lightly tease her nipples with my tongue and my teeth. Forcing myself to have patience, I wait until she’s moaning and moving beneath me, desperate for more.
My mouth closes over hers, and we kiss deeply as I begin to sink slowly—inch by delicious inch—into her tight heat.
“Case . . .” She pants, angling her hips up.
Her body is so warm and inviting. It’s like she was built just for me. It doesn’t take long for us to find our perfect rhythm.
I fuck my angel into the bed. I fuck this woman who’s my whole world until she’s moaning and gripping my shoulders, sobbing into my neck.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” I murmur. “Come for me.”
Wrapping her legs around my waist, Sienna drives us even closer.
Heaven. It’s pure heaven feeling her clench around me, and then moments later, Sienna is coming, her body writhing under mine as her pussy spasms and milks me.
It feels so good. I can’t hold back any longer.
My thrusts grow jerky, and I growl out my release as Sienna’s body continues spasming around me. After, I pull her close, holding her in my arms as our hearts slow.
Knowing that she’s mine to take care of, that she’s mine to please and to love and to worship, it makes a small knot of tightness in my chest grow. I couldn’t imagine my life without her. And knowing we’re going to have our own family soon? It has turned me into an emotional basket case. But I have zero complaints.
My life before her was so empty and cold. Lifeless even.
But today, my home is no longer the headquarters for an escort agency. I no longer have to worry about performing, or protection, or clients. Now I get to enjoy a cozy home in the suburbs with the woman I love by my side.
It’s a pretty sweet deal, and it definitely proved that sometimes real life is stranger than fiction.
• • •
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed THE HOOKUP HANDBOOK, you are going to LOVE my next book, JUNK MAIL! Check out the exclusive sneak peek below.
It all started with a sexy selfie … texted to the wrong number…
• • •
“That’s why I like dogs. You can just trick them with a little bit of peanut butter.” Her voice is pretty. Sweet and melodic, and I wonder if the face matches.
I turn into the conference room and holy matching face of an angel.
The woman is hotter than sin. The brunette perched in a conference chair is smiling at my assistant, showing off the prettiest lips I’ve ever seen. She wears a black and white dress, and she looks like a cookie I want to bite.
Which is a thoroughly inappropriate reaction. I remind myself to expunge inappropriate thoughts from my mind. My dick got me in trouble last night. No way is that sneaky bastard getting me in trouble now. But fuck me, I seriously need some action.
She and Toby turn to me. “This is Josh Hanson! He’s my boss! And he’s also a rock star in one-on-one basketball. He kills me every time we play!”
Um, we played once. But he’s right—I did destroy him.
I give a self-deprecating grin. “You played valiantly. It was an even match up.”
The woman stands, revealing long, toned legs that I do my best not to stare at it because I’m not an asshole who objectifies women—especially not women I want to do business with—but I’m waging an internal battle between the will of my dick and my brain right now. My dick is edging closer to victory the longer I stare at her.
Not cool, man. Not cool.
I focus on her eyes, and that’s a whole new challenge, because they’re a sky blue, a gorgeous contrast to her lush, dark hair. She stares at me a little longer than I’d expect, like she’s studying my face.
I extend a hand and she takes it. “Nice to meet you, Josh,” she says, swallowing a little roughly on my name, like it surprises her or is hard to pronounce. “I’m Peyton.”
I blink. What the actual fuck? What are the chances she’s the same Peyton?
Slim to nil, right?
Has to be.
Because there’s no fucking way she can be the same Peyton. Her name isn’t a common one, but this has to be a weird coincidence.
As we shake, her blue eyes stray to my hands. She stares at them longer than usual. Like she’s cataloguing them now, too.
When she lifts her face and meets my gaze, the chance of her being Peyton just surpassed one-hundred percent. Red splashes across her cheeks. Her eyes are huge and wild. Her face is the picture of embarrassment.
I cringe, and Peyton coughs. She recognized me from my childhood photo….
Not the dick one, obviously.
“Nice to meet you,” she says, as if she’s straightening out her words and trying to speak for the first time in ages.
“Good to meet you, too, Peyton,” I say, trying to keep my tone as even as I can. I turn to Toby. “And thanks again. Especially for the cat tales.”
He laughs as he leaves, and when Peyton and I take our seats, there’s a tiny smile on her face too.
“Cat tales,” she says, with a little laugh.
“I personally prefer taking my pills with peanut butter,” I say, hoping to use humor to diffuse the situation because we both know what the other one has seen and it’s hella awkward.
The situation is all kinds of fucked up, and I need to unfuck it. Stat.
She stares at me, her nose crinkling. “So, last night …” She shakes her head, frustration etched across her pretty features.
Which means it’s time for me to launch into a full-court apology. After all, we can’t risk losing her business to someone else. “Look, Peyton. I’m sorry. I had no idea who you were. Your number must have been on my phone because of the file Brody sent me. I did not in any way, shape, or form intend to send you that picture. I am so sorry.”
It’s the only explanation. I mean, how else could I have mistaken her number for Butterflygirl6?
She sighs heavily and presses her hand to her face as if checking to see if the temperature is still high. “I seriously can’t believe you sent it to me.”
I sigh heavily. “I can’t believe I did either.”
“And I can’t believe you sent me your elementary school photo, too.”Yeah, that was weird. I see that now.
I furrow my brow, scrambling to fix the problem. “In my defense, I was trying not to seem like an asshole who sends unsolicited dick pics.”
She holds up a hand as a stop sign. “Can we just not talk about that picture?”
“The kid pic or the junk shot?”
She raises her eyes to mine. “Both. Can we have a whatever you call it in basketball? A mulligan?”
I chuckle. “That’s a golf term. But we can just call it a do-over.”
“Yes,
we need a do-over,” she says with a nervous nod. “We need to pretend it never happened and go about this meeting like we’ve never met before today.”
Yeah, good fucking luck with that.
Follow Josh and Peyton’s sinfully sexy journey in JUNK MAIL.
Get Your Copy Today!
What to Read Next
If you liked The Hookup Handbook, you’ll love Boyfriend for Hire about escort Nic and the client he falls for, Elle.
I’m the guy you call when you need to impress your overbearing family, your boss, or your ex. Yeah, I’m a male escort, but not just any escort, I’m the escort. The one with a mile-long waiting list and a pristine reputation that’s very well-deserved.
I’m the guy who’ll make you feel beautiful, desired, and worshipped . . . all for a steep price. I’m hired to make you shine, and I always deliver.
I’ll be whatever you want me to be for one night—except my true self. This is just a job, a role I play to earn a paycheck.
But I’m not the guy who falls for a client. Not once in six years.
And then I meet Elle. Her friend has hired me to escort her to a wedding, but Elle doesn’t know we’re just pretending.
There’s a fire between us I never expected. A connection I haven’t felt in so long. One kiss, and I’m losing all control.
But what will happen when she finds out who I really am?
Learn more and get your copy HERE.
It all started with a sexy selfie.
Texted to the wrong number.
Oops.
Not my finest moment—but I have nothing to be ashamed of.
She thought I was no better, and I quote, than the knuckle-dragging douche-bags she was never dating again.
It was a stupid dare from a girl I’d met online, but since she’d given me a fake number, I didn’t feel bad that my interests were suddenly focused elsewhere—on the fiery and sharp-tongued, Peyton that I found myself sparring with over text for the rest of the evening.