Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“No, it’s a mixer of sorts. One of my parties, and I want you by my side.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means my escorts and high-profile clients come to mingle. It’s speed dating for the rich. Basically a tasting menu.”
“And what, you want me to go to taste test other men?”
His laugh is sinister.
That’s a big fucking no.
“No, you won’t be doing that. I prefer to have a woman by my side. It’s not just male clients, female clients are looking for male escorts as well. Many of them like to come up and ask how much for my services. Which, I might add, are not included.”
“So if I paid you, say… twenty million, I could have you for the night?” I tease.
“You can’t, not for money. But I’ll indulge you for free,” Dawson replies, teasing me back.
“I’m still mad at you, so why should I?”
“You haven’t closed the door in my face yet,” he points out.
I arch an eyebrow with my arms still crossed over my chest.
“And you left me to relieve myself in the back of the restaurant, so I think you can do this much for me.”
I chuckle. “Did the poor lettuce leaf get abused?”
“There was a pack of napkins, it so happens,” he says with a tentative smile.
I throw my head back and laugh. Fuck, maybe I do feel a little guilty now.
I bite my lip, unable to stop the smile and throw my hands up in defeat. “What do I wear?” I ask, stepping back to show him I’m dressed in a nightgown, not expecting to go out tonight at all.
“Do you have a gown?”
I raise a brow at him. “It’s that fancy?”
He nods. “I’m afraid so.”
“Okay. I’ll be ready in twenty.” I try to shut the door in his face, but he stops me.
“Are you not going to invite me in?”
I smile sweetly and say, “No, I am not,” then push the door shut. I stand and wait, thinking he’ll open it, and when he doesn’t, I head to my closet. I know the exact dress I can wear. I bought it when I first arrived and haven’t had an occasion to wear it. I have hundreds of gowns back home, but there’s something I love about this one. Perhaps it’s the honey color. I pull it out and admire it once more before slipping it on and going to the bathroom to fix my hair and apply some light foundation and lipstick. I’m determined to give him the bare minimum.
Events like this, I’d always be fussed over for hours. I had to have the perfect hair. The perfect makeup. The perfect presentation. Now, I feel comfortable throwing that to the wayside. Dawson will accept me how I am or not at all.
When I’m done, I check myself in the mirror. My lips are nude, and my silk dress perfectly drapes over my breasts and hips. I look over my shoulder, appreciating the low cut-out back. I can imagine Daphne exclaiming, “Fucking hot!” and clapping in approval. It brings a smile to my face.
I walk out and pull open the door to find him still waiting. “I’m ready. This better be worth it because I can’t decide how angry I should be at you yet.”
“Angry sex is the best sex, but we can play later,” he drawls.
“So you think,” I shoot back, stepping into the elevator with him. We stand in silence, the tension a living, breathing thing between us. I’m certain as he exhales, I inhale. We walk out of the lobby and to a waiting car with a driver holding the door open and ready for us. Dawson offers his hand as I step in, cautious of my honey-colored heels. The contrast in color is perfect against my tan skin. He enters on the other side of the car, sitting beside me.
He adjusts himself as the driver takes off. I watch him carefully, fighting all urges to mount him. It’s cruel that he should be so fucking beautiful.
“You don’t want to play later?” Dawson asks, turning to face me.
“Not at all. You needed help, so here I am. I expect you to return this favor one day. I am a Ricci, after all.”
He cocks a smile as he puts his hand on my knee. The heat radiates through my body, and my clit begins to pulse for him. Expectantly, demandingly, and almost blindly.
“Oh, so is that what we’re calling this? A favor?”
I pull my gaze away from his hand, thinking of all the things those fingers can do. “Is it not?”
“I return favors in other ways.”
“I’m sure Crue is a very happy man, then. A beautiful friendship the two of you have.”
He laughs at that, and I can’t help but smile and look away.
“You look awfully beautiful tonight, but do you want to know when you look better?”