Want another hot and dirty read? Check out the first chapter of my other book, Own Me!

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Chapter 1

"Remember why you're doing this," I tell my reflection. The girl in the mirror looks doubtful. She's dressed for the part, in sky-high heels and a slinky lace babydoll lingerie top, not quite see-through but close enough. But despite her tousled hair and plumped-up lips, she doesn't look like an escort. She just looks like... well, me, playing dress-up.

I shift on my heels, trying out a different pose. One knee bent, hands on my hips, chest out...

Not working.

I turn the other direction and try again.

Sigh. Does it even matter? Are you supposed to try to look sexy for your clients, or do they not even care as long as you're warm and willing?

My nerves flare once more, and I pull out my cell to check the site again. Thank god I found this website, a way to advertise for myself, so I didn't have to get involved with any weirdos like the pimps you see in movies and TV shows. I've found myself watching way too many episodes of Law and Order SVU in preparation for this and it's freaking me out.

I stare at the profile of my first client. No photo on his account–but of course, who would want to put their profile on a site like this? You definitely don't want your mother finding out that you're hiring an escort.

My stomach does a little flip just thinking of that word.

This isn't exactly the life I imagined for myself. It's something I never would have considered even just a few weeks ago. Before...

Well. I clench my fists. Before my stepfather stepped in.

The girl in the mirror is grimacing now. Not a cute look. I force myself to think about something else–anything besides the staggering sum of money I owe my stepfather. The drama that drove me into this impossible decision.

I reread the last message from my client. Giovanni. I wonder if that's his real name or if he faked it to further hide his identity. Either way, his credit card verification went through, and from his emails, all crisply polite and businesslike, he sounds as non-creepy as possible.

But what kind of guys go to escorts? What kinds of guys need to buy sex? Broken men... dangerous men?

The knock on the door nearly sends me leaping out of my skin. My phone tumbles to the floor and I leap to my feet, smoothing down the babydoll lingerie one more time.

Here goes nothing. My first client. My first trip down the rabbit hole.

I just hope he doesn't turn out to be my last... episodes of Law and Order are flashing in my skull as I cross the room and undo the latch on the motel door.

I take one last deep breath to compose my face, hopefully hiding any misgivings or nervous expressions. Then I swing the door wide open and plaster on my best come-hither smile.

It immediately fails the moment the door opens.

Holy shit.

A ridiculously tall mountain of muscle stands in my doorway. Even through his T-shirt, I can trace the bulge of his pecs and abs, not to mention his biceps, which look delicious enough to sink my teeth into. And when I look up, my heart starts beating double-time in my chest.

He's rugged-hot, all tan skin, chiseled jawline and high cheekbones dusted with 3-day stubble. His dark hair falls across his even darker eyes, and those eyes are staring straight at me–through me.

I thought I felt naked before, standing around this motel room in a babydoll lace nightgown, but I didn't know the meaning of the word exposed until I found myself staring down this guy. Those eyes look right through me, into my core, and it feels like he's eating me alive.

I realize I'm staring. Stupidly. He realizes it too, because his sharp lips twist into a grin.

"Who were you expecting, the pizza man?" he asks, still smirking, and oh fuck, that voice. Deep and throaty and just the right amount of gravely. I bet he never needs to ask a girl twice for a favor.

Without thinking, I lick my lips, and his eyes drop to mine, that smirk widening. "You must be Giovanni," I finally say, finding my voice. "Come in."

"Thank you, Lilly," he replies as he steps into the room, and for a second I'm confused until I remember the screen name I made up a couple days ago while setting up my account.

As he walks past me, I catch the scent of his cologne, something subtle and pine-like, mingled with his own scent, heady and delicious. My hormones rage in my veins, and I realize I'm actually getting turned on. When he passes me, I catch a glimpse of a sleeve tattoo jutting out of his T-shirt, and I have to fight the urge to peel that shirt off of him to see the rest.

Are all my clients going to be like this?

If so, maybe I shouldn't have been so nervous about this escorting gig. Cause damn, I would fuck this guy for free if I met him in a club.

Luckily he doesn't know that because I still really need the cash.

"Thank you for coming," I say, then hesitate, since that sounds a little weird. Do you thank clients?

He's watching me again, those dark eyes of his seeing way too much. "I had to, after seeing your photos," he says, and my cheeks flush thinking of the series of boudoir shots I posted to the website. His eyes roam down the length of my body, lingering on my firm, if a little small, breasts, and again on my hips and my slim legs. "I must say, I'm not disappointed. You're even more gorgeous in person."

I have to clench my knees to stop them from quivering in anticipation. "You're not too shabby yourself," I reply, then almost immediately want to kick myself. Was that weird? Awkward?

But he just chuckles and steps over to the bed, one hand resting on his belt buckle. "Get on the bed, Lilly."

Here we go.

You can do this, I tell myself. But to be honest, the moment I saw Giovanni, I stopped needing a pep talk.

I cross the room and climb onto the bed on my knees, watching him, awaiting my next instruction.

His eyes are doing that studying thing again. "Have you done this before, Lilly?"

I hesitate. Only for a second, but I watch him catch it, and curse myself. "Of course," I blurt, to cover for my hesitation. "Plenty of times. I'm very experienced."

Not entirely sure that was convincing, but he doesn't ask me again. Just watches me in silence for a moment, before he grasps the hem of his shirt and peels it off over his head in one smooth motion.

Fuck yes.

I don't bother to hide my desire as I ogle his body–those perfectly defined muscles, highlighted here and there by the tattoos that scrawl across his body. They're all blackline tattoos, tasteful, geometric shapes and abstract pieces mingling with a couple symbols, like the thorns across his chest and the sailor anchor on his shoulder.

I may or may not be drooling by the time my gaze reaches his waistline and the perfect V-cut of muscle that points straight to his groin like an arrow guiding me home.

While I'm ogling, he's busy undressing. He whips his belt off with a loud snap, the leather cracking like a whip. I jump, and he steps closer to the bed, the belt still in his hand.

"Tell me your rules," he says, a challenge in his gaze. "If you're experienced, then you know what you are and are not willing to do."

My mouth feels dry all of a sudden. Should I have told him the truth? That this is my first time? But what if he wants someone experienced; what if he gets mad I didn't mention that in my profile? I swallow hard. I've gone this far with it.

Rules, though. What does he mean...?

"Tell me yours first," I reply, raising my chin. "What kind of an experience are you looking for, exactly?"

He laughs softly. There's something dangerous about that laugh. Something that pushes me to the edge between desire and nerves once more. “My rules are simple, Lilly. You do whatever I say.” He leans over me, reaches out to let his fingertips graze my shoulder, gently, almost reverently. But his eyes, still locked on mine, are all fire. “I enjoy being in control.”

If I wasn’t wet before, I definitely am now, my whole body trembling in anticipation. I’ve messed around with toys in the bedroom before, even had a couple of exes who tied me up, but they were jokey about it, goofing around. It was hot, but not… like this. He’s dead serious right now–he wants to be in control.

And I am getting turned on as hell by the thought.

“Your turn.” He tightens his hand on my shoulder. Uses it to spin me around until I’m facing the bed. Then he bends me over, slowly, until I’m kneeling in front of him on all fours. I feel the bed shift as he climbs onto it behind me, his hand trailing from my shoulder to the back of my neck, making every hair rise as he trails his fingertip over my skin.

Unable to help it, a soft moan escapes me, as he traces the ridges of my spine down my back to the edge of my lacey top.

“Tell me your rules, Lilly.” His voice is low, almost a purr, but still commanding.

My belly clenches. I can’t think straight with him touching me. All I want to do right now is surrender to him. But I have to focus–I need to seem like I know what I’m doing right now. “I…” I swallow thickly. “I don’t have any,” I finally whisper.

His hand curls, nails digging into my back. I can feel his thighs against mine, his muscles clenching, and I hear him sigh softly. “God, you are perfect,” he murmurs. It startles me because I didn’t realize how close he was. Bending over me so his breath tickles my ear. Yet he’s still being gentle. I didn’t expect this. His soft touches, light caresses.

“If I go too far, Lilly, just say ‘when.’ Do you understand?”

Numbly, I can feel myself nodding. Whatever he says. I just want him to fuck me already. I’ve never been this turned on before.

Without warning, he clenches my jaw hard and turns my face to the side, until I’m staring straight into his eyes. I tense, startled. He looks angry now. Glaring at me. “Not good enough,” he says. “I need to know that you understand. What do you say if I go too far, if you need me to stop?”

I blink, trying to think through the fog of the ache between my thighs. “When?” I ask, tentative.

He releases my jaw but doesn’t stop staring. “That’s right. I need you to remember that, Lilly. Because I’m going to push you to your limits. I’m going to lead you right up to your breaking point, and I need you to know that you can stop this at any time, if–no, when we get there.”

I swallow again but it’s dry. My whole mouth has gone dry, and my arms have started trembling. I can’t tell if it’s nerves or just how hot and bothered he’s making me. Probably both. “I’ll remember,” I promise him.

He smiles, and some of the anger leaves his gaze now. “Good.” He sits up, and rests a hand between my shoulder blades. Pushes. “Now lay down.”

Obediently, I slide down onto my stomach. His hands travel down my back, exploring my skin. He slides them under the babydoll top, works his thick, rough fingertips over every inch of me, as if he’s memorizing me. He starts to press harder, massaging, but roughly, enough that I gasp when he hits a sore spot. He grins and works at that spot for a moment, forcing the tension out of my body, physically forcing me to relax.

And I do. I sink into the bed, sighing, half in relief and half in surprise. I didn’t expect this. Any of this.

I didn’t expect him.

Will it always be this good? Or did I just get lucky with my first client?

I’m lost in thought, wondering about that, fantasizing about what Giovanni has in store for me next. His hands are pulling me out of the real world, forcing me into the fantasy he’s creating.

That’s why I don’t notice what he’s doing, when he lifts my right arm above my head, working my bicep, my forearm, kneading my wrist. He leaves my hand there, pulls my left arm up too, still massaging, distracting me.

Until I feel hard leather slide around my wrists.

I look up, startled, but he’s a pro at this. He’s already tightening the belt, binding my wrists together. Before I can react, he tosses the other end of the belt around the bedpost and cinches that tight, too.

I’m trapped now. Completely at his mercy.

My belly does that strange flutter again, like the kind of nerves you feel at the top of a roller coaster. Fear and adrenaline, but also… excitement.

His lips brush the back of my neck. Soft, light. He kisses his way down my back, his lips touching each ridge of my spine. When he reaches the edge of my shirt, he pauses to slide his hands under my stomach. Eager for his touch, for him to really touch me, take me however he pleases, I arch my hips toward him. But he only clutches the fabric of the lace top and yanks it up over my head. He leaves it tangled around my bound wrists, but I’m still flat against the bed, naked except for my panties now, my breasts heaving against the comforter.

Fucking hell, he hasn’t even touched me anywhere except my back and I’m already drenched. I can feel the heavy weight of my clit between my legs, hard and aching with want for him.

He leans over me again, his mouth at the small of my back. His tongue flicks over my skin, tasting, teasing. I moan again, not bothering to hide my desire. He chuckles softly, and even his hot breath along my back makes me shiver and wriggle against the restraints.

“Perfect,” he whispers. He flattens his palms along my back, runs them up my sides, touching my hips, my waist, grazing the very edges of my breasts with his fingertips. I can feel my nipples getting hard, even though he hasn’t so much as touched them yet. “You are such a perfect little whore, aren’t you, Lilly? God, the things I’m going to do to you…”

I sigh with longing. “Yes, please.”

A sudden, sharp sting rockets through me as he slaps my ass. Just one hit, not hard enough to leave a mark, but unexpected enough that I jump, tensing. “Yes please, sir,” he corrects, his voice sounding deeper, thicker now.

He’s turned on, too. I know it. So why won’t he fuck me?

I spread my legs and arch my back to point my ass toward him. “Yes, sir,” I reply, keeping my voice low and throaty.

“That’s better.” He rubs my ass, caressing the spot he just slapped, squeezing gently, and I groan with desire. “You’re getting turned on, aren’t you, my lovely slut?”

“Yes, sir,” I repeat, squirming under him.

“Good.” I swear I hear a grin in his voice when he says that. “Tell me, slut, do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, please, sir.”

“That’s unfortunate. Because I don’t fuck sluts until I know who they are.”

I tense, that flutter of nerves in the pit of my stomach erupting again. “Sir?” I ask, hesitant, trying to turn to see him. I don’t know what he wants.

But his hands are sliding around my body now, underneath me, spreading across my stomach, finally, finally, and I can’t think straight anymore. One hand slips up between my breasts, tracing the ridge of my breastbone, circling right under my heart, before he reaches around to cup my breast in his hand, squeezing, kneading. My nipple is already rock hard against his palm, and he lets out a sigh as he straddles me, resting his hips on my ass. He’s still wearing his jeans, dammit, but I can feel the hard straight line of his cock through them. Teasing me.

I arch my hips to push them harder against his cock, and he tightens his hand on my breast in response, pinching my nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. I cry out, half in pain and half in pleasure.

“You don’t move until I tell you to, understand, slut? Otherwise, I’ll stop giving you any pain or pleasure.” He draws his other hand out from under me to shove my hips back against the bed, flat. “I said, do you understand?”

I’m too distracted, there’s so many new sensations flooding my body. Pain, which I never knew I was into. Pleasure, from his warm hand around my breast, his hot body against mine. “I understand, sir,” I manage to gasp.

He lets go of my breast, presses his fingers into the ridge of my sternum and trails them down, over my stomach, circling my belly, tracing the arc of my hipbones, and finally going lower, lower…

I groan and fight the urge to push my hips forward with every ounce of self-control I possess, since I know by now that if I disobey his order, if I move without his permission, he’ll stop touching me.

I’ll do whatever he wants as long as he doesn’t stop touching me.

His fingertips reach the edge of my mound, just inches away from my clit. He spreads his hand wide, and flattens his palm against my waxed-smooth mound, his fingertips grazing the tops of my thighs, sliding between them. But he’s careful. He knows what he’s doing. He touches everywhere except my clit, surrounding it, cupping it in his hand, so close I can feel the heat from his skin, and yet not giving me even an ounce of what I want.

I hold myself stock-still, not trusting myself to even breathe, because if I do, I know I’ll throw myself into his hand, grind my hips into his touch.

“Good girl,” he whispers, leaning over to kiss the side of my neck, letting his tongue trace the edge of my earlobe. “Now, do you want me to finger you?”

“Yes, sir,” I groan, my voice strained with effort.

He grins, lips curling against my skin, as he slides his hand lower, spreads the lips of my pussy with his strong fingers. The heel of his palm grazes my clit, and this time I can’t help it. It’s electric shock, his touch finally reaching my aching core, and I jump against the bed, involuntary.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t see that, slut, because you’ve been such a good girl so far,” he says. His fingers slide into my slit, tracing the line between my ass, all the way up to the entrance of my pussy. I’m soaking wet; I can feel my juices coating his fingers, slick and heavy. He traces my pussy lazily, unhurried. This is a man who takes his time in all things. Who knows what he wants to get out of me, and exactly how to do it.

When he finally pushes one finger inside me, slowly, an inch at a time, I groan aloud in pleasure, clenching my fists around the sheets in order to hold my body still, force myself not to react the way I want to.

It is torture. Exquisite, perfect torment.

And then, just as he slides his finger all the way inside me, and curls the tip to drag along my inner walls, about to graze my G-spot… “Tell me your name, slut.”

I pant with effort, holding myself still. “L… Lilly,” I manage to gasp.

There’s another slap, another sharp sting, as he slaps my other ass cheek with his free hand. “Not your online whoring handle. Your real name.”

“I…” Shit. I can’t tell him. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.

He pulls his finger out, and I moan with desire, regret. Then he thrusts his finger back inside me once more, and slaps my ass at the same time, harder. Pleasure and pain at once. Ecstasy and agony. “Your name.” His voice has gone dark now. Commanding.

I can’t resist him. I can’t fight this. “Corbella,” I whisper, defeated. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep this moment going, this pleasure heightening.

“Corbella.” My name–my real name–in his mouth is another spark of pleasure, another reason my pussy clenches and my body quivers. “That is a beautiful name, Corbella.”

“Th—thank you, sir.”

He pulls out of me, then forces two fingers back in, spreading my walls, making me ache deep in my belly. “But I think you lied to me, Corbella. I don’t like being lied to.” His other hand traces my ass, rubbing the sore spot he slapped. Unlike the first time he spanked me, I’m pretty sure this one will leave a mark. Yet his fingers brushing that sensitive, sore skin are sparking off a whole new kind of sensation, a pleasant one… except that I know what he’s threatening. Another spanking.

“No, sir,” I murmur. “I never lied.” I can’t decide if I’d rather obey him, or disobey and earn another slap. It stung so good last time…

He thrusts his fingers inside me once more, grazing my G-spot, pushing hard against my front wall, so I feel his touch in every inch of my pussy, radiating out through my whole lower body. Tight and hard and so fucking good.

“No? You didn’t lie about this being your first time as an escort?”

I swallow hard. My throat feels tight. Everything in my body feels tight, especially when he keeps finger-fucking me, just hard enough to make the pleasure build, but not hard or fast enough to really get me off. “I…”

“Tell me the truth, Corbella.” His hand lifts off my ass, ready to spank again.

I shiver with anticipation, nerves, excitement. “This is my first time, sir,” I breathe, unable to make myself admit it any louder than that.

His hand comes to rest on the back of my head. He runs his hand through my hair, twines his fingers through my dark blonde locks. “Thank you for telling me the truth, Corbella.” He leans over me, clenches his fist in my hair and pulls my head back, so my neck arches and my chest lifts off the bed. Tears sting my eyes, but it’s hot as fucking hell, and I want more. I want him to be rough. I want him to use me the way he so clearly wants to.

I want to find out what this man is made of.

He presses his cheek to mine, turns to kiss the corner of my mouth, lightly. Not a real kiss, not what I want, his mouth hot on mine and our tongues entwined. But enough to make me shiver with want. “You gave me what I wanted. Now I’ll give you what you want. But first…”

I feel him smile against my cheek, and I shiver at the thought of what he’s thinking. What he has planned for me.

“I want you to beg.”

He pulls away, lets me sink back to the bed, lets go of my hair. I pull against the arm restraints slightly, testing them. Definitely still trapped. Still at his mercy.

“What would you like me to beg for, sir?” I ask, as he returns to finger-fucking my pussy.

He pushes my legs apart and clenches my ass hard with his other hand, fingers digging into my skin. Then he leans against me, until I feel his cock against my inner thigh, through his jeans. All the while he keeps pushing his hand in and out of me, driving me wild, but not going fast enough, not yet…

“Beg me to let you come, my gorgeous slut.”

“Please, sir, I–,” I stammer to a halt as he starts to fuck me harder, his fingers grazing my walls, pushing hard against my G-spot so I feel it radiating all the way through my core. I’ve never come from my G-spot before, only my clit, and yet, the sensation is already building through me, starting to peak. He thrusts harder, faster, but his other hand grips my hip hard, commanding.

“Beg,” he commands.

“Please let me come for you,” I gasp. My eyes shut tight, my hands dig into the leather straps of the belt around my wrists. “Please, sir, I want to give you my cum, I want to please you.” I don’t even know what I’m saying; I hardly hear my own voice over the rushing in my ears.

“God, Corbella…” He sounds strained too, as turned on as I am, and that makes it even hotter.

“Please,” I moan one last time. “May I come for you?”

He curls his fingers inside me, fixating on my G-spot, rubbing hard, fast, still finger-fucking me. “Come for me, Corbella,” he says. “Now.” At the same time, he adds a third finger, stretching me to my limits, and I don’t even have to try.

I cry out loudly as the orgasm sweeps over me, my whole body shaking with the force of it. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, just keeps thrusting into me, and even as I fall over the peak, I feel another one hard on its heels, building. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt, coming this way, from my G-spot, from inside. Everything feels tighter, sharper, more intense. I feel my juices wetting his hand as he keeps thrusting, and I hit another peak, harder, the kind of orgasm that’s half pleasure and half pain, like everything Giovanni does to me. I’m shaking, moaning. I can’t even hear myself, whether I’m saying words or just crying out. I’m lost in another world, in the sensations he gives to me.

When I finally come back down, he slides his hand out of me and turns me over, onto my back, smirking. His hand is wet with my cum, glistening, and he trails his fingers up over my hips, painting my body with it.

“I’m honored to be your first client,” he says, gazing directly into my eyes, frank and hot as hell. “You’re a natural, Corbella.”

I’m still breathing hard, waiting for my heart to stop thrashing in my chest. Of course I’m a natural with you, I think, my head still swimming. But that’s because I wasn’t faking. I really am this turned on. This ready for him to fuck me.

He’s fucking amazing. Everything I never knew I wanted.

I spread my legs, wrap them around his waist, ready for the next level. Ready for him to take his pleasure from me, the way he gave me mine.

But he pushes back off of the bed. My legs fall to either side of him. He walks around me and I shiver. Maybe he wants me to give him a blowjob first. Maybe he’ll unzip now and I can finally see that cock of his, taste his cum in my mouth…

Instead, he leans over and undoes the belt around my wrists. Then he steps away from the bed and reaches for his shirt on the floor.

I sit up, rubbing my wrists. They’re a little red around the edges, sore in a tingly, falling-asleep sort of way. My whole body is, actually. As if I were sleeping before and now I’ve awakened.

“What are you doing?” I ask, unable to hide the disappointment in my voice as he tugs his shirt back over his head.

He turns to face me, smirking again. “We had a one-hour session. Our time is up.” He nods toward the clock on the wall, and my face flushes with heat as I realize he’s right. I completely lost track of time.

I lost track of everything, really.

“Right,” I reply, shaking my head, trying to clear it.

“You’ll find the payment in your bank account already,” he adds. The site we used sets up payments automatically, direct deposits so that you know clients won’t skip out on the bill.

I just earned $1,000 in one hour. It’s a high-end site that really vets its escorts. Yet still, it seems almost unfair that he just paid me for the hottest hour of my life.

I sit up and his eyes dart straight to my body again. I realize I’m still naked, just in my thong now. Yet somehow, I don’t feel self-conscious the way I normally would. After what he just did to me… It feels natural to stand naked before him. To revel in the way his gaze eats up my body.

“I’m glad you were my first client, Giovanni,” I tell him. After all, he was honest with me before. He deserves the same in response. “I couldn’t have asked for a better introduction.”

His mouth curls into a wider smile. “I’m glad, Corbella.” He’s lingering at this point. Not anxious to get out the door, even though he’s already dressed. I wonder if I stepped closer to him right now, reached for him, what would happen… Would he forget about our boundaries, about the time and the money, and just fuck me like he so clearly wants to?

Somehow, I doubt it. He’s too in control–not just of me, but of himself, too. He doesn’t let go, he doesn’t ever lose command.

Besides, those boundaries are important. I need to maintain them. This is a professional relationship, a working one. He’s hiring me for the hour, nothing more.

So why is he still here, watching me with those hungry eyes?

I open my mouth, to say what exactly, I’m not sure. But he speaks first.

“I’d like to see you again.”

Another shiver races along my spine. “I’d like that, too.”

“But until I do, I don’t want you seeing anyone else.”

I hesitate, my eyes widening. Shit.

I don’t want to see anyone else either–not if every session with Giovanni could be like this one, mind numbing, paralyzing and hot as fuck all at once. But I can’t promise him that. I’m doing this for a reason.

My face falls, and his brow creases when he sees me frown. “I’m sorry, Giovanni. I can’t promise that.”

“I’ll pay you,” he counters, lifting an eyebrow. “Three thousand dollars a day, for the next three days. And then I’ll see you again.”

My mouth goes dry all of a sudden. I have other nibbles, other clients I’ve started talking to, but only a couple, and of those, I’m not sure they’ll come through. Even if I saw a client a day, I’d only be making one grand per day. And Giovanni’s offer is triple that.

But why? Why does he trust me so much, this woman he’s never met before? This… well, whore he hired off the internet?

“Why?” I ask, unable to help myself. “Why would you want to do that? You don’t know me.”

“Don’t I?” he counters, that single eyebrow still raised.

When I don’t reply because I’m not sure how to, he turns and reaches for the doorknob. “I’ll see you in three days, Corbella.”

It’s only once the door snaps shut behind him that I realize he never actually waited for my answer.

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