She gazed out the window fondly, watching the gardener two stories below tending to the opulent flowers surrounding her mansion. She'd snatched him for a reasonable cash offer and his choice of one of her girls, which she'd happily agreed to. He wasn't an unattractive man, so his chosen girl — Heaven — hadn't required much convincing. Shifting her glittering emerald eyes to the opposite side of the lawn, to the driveway, watching another of her attendants washing her sleek black Lexus. Her red lips grew into a smirk. Life was good.
She granted entrance after a knock at the office door, swiveling in her chair to face the visitor. Ruthie stood there in her usual pencil skirt and billowy blouse, unnecessarily tall heels, and makeup and hair fixed up to the nines. The girl was a God-send, falling into the assistant role with ease after being promoted from the top tier ladies, leaving her life of sleeping with men for a living behind. Now she would spend the foreseeable future scheduling these rendezvous, negotiating prices, and gaining new clients. Ruthie was the face of the company.
"You have a phone call," Ruthie said, standing nervously, tapping a pen against her thigh.
Her boss glanced at the schedule Ruthie had created on her desktop computer. "It's not on the schedule."
"I know," Ruthie nodded. "He says he'll make it worth your while?"
The lady in charge arched an eyebrow. She'd heard it before, but that made the phrase no less intriguing. How would she know if it was indeed worth her while if she didn't first listen to what he had to say? She tossed a lock of dark brown hair behind her shoulder. On the other hand, she'd been in the business long enough to know a waste of time when she heard it. And she was far too busy surveying her kingdom to entertain low-ball offers.
"I doubt it," she scoffed. "He can work with you just like everybody else."
Ruthie took a deep breath but didn't move. Her boss glared at her, waiting for her to continue. "He told me if you said no to tell you you'd be missing out on the biggest payday of your life."
The lady in charge snorted. "That a fact?" she grinned, leaning back in her chair, crossing one long leg over the other. "And he wouldn't tell you the number?"
"No, ma'am."
The boss's lips pursed, evergreen eyes narrowing at the young girl. "What kind of vibes did you pick up?" She didn't think Ruthie understood just how much her employer trusted and valued her opinion, which was fine, because if she suddenly realized how irreplaceable she was, she might demand more money.
Ruthie considered the question. "He sounds … scary, to be honest. I'm not trying to cost us a client or anything, but there's something about his voice and the way he … talked to me. Gave me chills."
Her boss's eyebrows rose nearly into her hairline. With a bite of her lip, she came to a decision. "Put him through."
It was obvious Ruthie wanted to say more, but she was all too happy to exit the office and close the door behind her. The brunette in charge glanced at her phone when the line began to ring. After the fourth ring, and with a knowing smirk on her dark red lips, she lifted the receiver to her ear.
"This is Lena," she introduced herself professionally. "Who do I have the pleasure—?"
"I've got 30,000 for you for tonight."
Lena understood Ruthie's comments upon hearing the gravel in the man's voice, the smoke on velvet tone, the razor sharp edge to his clipped words. Her grin faltered, but only a bit. He was offering well above the asking price for any tier girl, which she of course wouldn't tell him, but she couldn't help the confusion that swept over her.
"This could have been discussed with my assistant," Lena stated.
"Listen," the man demanded, growling in a tone she'd never heard before, one she didn't believe even possible. Lena's lip curled. "I said I've got 30,000 for you for tonight."
Now it was coming together. "I have 300 girls under me. I don't work anymore because I don't have to."
"I don't want the used up bitches that pay you to fuck around," he rasped. "They're worker bees, you understand?" Lena's eyes narrowed, and she easily convinced herself that she didn't notice her breathing picking up the pace. "I want the goddamn queen."
Lena's lips curved into a smile not unlike that of the Joker. She crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in her chair, phone still pressed to her ear. She hadn't worked—actually worked—in half a decade. She certainly hadn't forgotten how to work, but the thought of going back to it made her cringe. Men were disgusting, especially the ones that paid for the services she provided, and God knew she was so much better than that shit these days. She was a millionaire for fuck's sake.
She giggled, innocent and pure. "I don't get out of bed for $30,000. Or, in bed, as it were."
He was breathing on the other end of the line. Lena sighed, waiting for the sweet sound of his surrender.
"$60,000."
Lena stopped rocking in her chair, one high-heeled shoe planted on the hardwood floor. Brow arched, she leaned forward, one elbow on the glass table top. Various rings and bracelets glittered in the sunlight.
"$60,000. For one night. With me."
"Take it or leave it."
Lena paused. "What's your name?" she asked.
"Jon."
"Right. As in John Doe?"
"As in Jon None-Of-Your-Fucking-Business."
"A name is a requirement."
"So you can tell every fucking news outlet that I propositioned a whore?" he retorted. "Forget it."
"Sure. Because it's in my best interest to go outing my client list. Makes perfect business sense."
Silence.
Lena's eyes cut across the room as she waited for a response. She was about to hang up when she heard a faint growl come through the other line. A shudder wracked her entire body, and she had to grab onto the corner of the table to keep herself steady. Not in all of her years in the business had she ever heard a man actually growl.
"Last fucking time. 60,000 for you for tonight."
"Define tonight."
"Jesus Christ, bitch. From the time you get here until I let you fucking leave."
Lena slammed the phone down. He wasn't going to talk to her like that. At least not without paying for it. And she wouldn't accept his payment until they established specifics. She wondered if he'd ever ordered an escort before because he was fucking terrible at it. Oh well, she shrugged, swiveling around to face the window again. His loss. She wouldn't lose sleep over it. She wasn't sure she even could return to that life after living her current one.
"Asshole," she mumbled through clenched teeth.
She crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. Now she couldn't enjoy watching the gardener anymore. Spinning again in her chair, she reached into a lower desk drawer on the right side and pulled out a pill bottle. She popped three blue pills and swallowed the terribly tasting tablets without water. Sighing, content overcoming her, she returned her attention to the window. It wouldn't be long until the Percs did their job.
One thing about those Percs, though? They cost her time. Chunks of time, of her life, that she couldn't remember. Sometimes it was a blessing, sometimes it wasn't. In this particular case, she had no idea how much time had passed between the first phone call from "Jon" and the second. And she was unable to fully recall their prior conversation. And the cherry on the goddamn sundae? She was stoned out of her fucking mind when the abrasive potential client decided to call back.
Ruthie entered the office again. Lena leered at her, chartreuse eyes starting on the girl's heels, crawling up her legs, skirt, breasts, all the way up to her blue eyes. Lena preferred men, but she'd never denied a beautiful woman, Ruthie included.
"It's him again," she said.
Lena's brows rose lazily and her eyes eventually found their way to her phone. "What did he say?" she asked, surprised at how sober she sounded.
"He said he knows you didn't mean to hang up on him," Ruthie relayed.
The boss giggled, and Ruthie's confused expression was warranted. "He wants to fuck me for $60,000." That part she could remember rather clearly.
It was the assistant's turn to show shock. "Wow. That's ballsy."
Lena nodded. "What would you do? If you were in my position."
Ruthie considered the question for a moment. Lena wondered just how angry "Jon" was for being on hold this long.
"I mean … it's $60,000. And it used to be your job. Plus you don't even have to put it back into the company if you don't want to. He requested you, you negotiated the price, and it'll be you who closes him. That money belongs to you." She cleared her throat, eyes falling to the floor.
"But?" Lena urged. It wouldn't be too long before she lost the ability to speak and fell into the Perc Coma.
"But you're worth a hell of a lot more than $60,000."
Lena grinned, licking her red lips, and Ruthie blushed. "Thank you, Ruthie," she purred. "Go ahead and put him through."
She let the phone ring a few times before she picked up.
"75 is my final offer."
Lena placed a manicured nail between her teeth. His voice was criminal, and her thighs clenched. "You want me bad, don't you?" she asked. Before he could argue or call her some name, she continued, "Say it and I'll accept your 75."
A long silence before, "I want you," he rasped, having to force out each word. Lena waited. "Bad," he finished, the fury practically oozing through the phone into the air around her, suffocating her. Her heart pounded.
"Deal," Lena whispered.
He afforded her no opportunity to transfer him back to Ruthie so she could make the arrangements. Instead, he rattled off an address, and Lena struggled to grip the pen, let alone write legibly.
"Wait," she stopped him before he could hang up, though he said nothing. "Any requests?"
More silence. Enough that Lena nearly hung up herself.
"Wear something white," he grumbled. The line went dead.
Lena promptly informed Ruthie through the intercom that she would not be taking any more calls for the rest of the day and to cancel her remaining two appointments. Each of them wanted to discuss a merger with her, neither of which she would entertain. She'd worked hard to get where she was, only to end up sharing half her business? She swiveled to face the window again, watching with hooded, glassy eyes as a large thunder cloud overtook the sun, casting an ominous shadow over the entire room.
"Something white," she mumbled, eyes closing, head lolling to the side.
The Perc Coma. She was awake, but she slept, dreaming. That gravelly voice floated around her brain, a smile playing at her lips. You wanna get fucked, bitch? He would be dominating, that much had been clear, and Lena wondered if she was ready for that. She hadn't been with a man in years. Was it really the best idea to submit to a man who'd had the balls to call her a bitch while negotiating to sleep with her? What color were his eyes? Did his body match his tone? What was he into? What was she getting herself into? Shut up, slut. Her thighs twitched, a warm wetness pooling between them. The anticipation alone was enough to get her off. I want you. Bad. Did he know what she looked like or was it the idea of her that excited him? Jon.
A knock at the door jolted Lena awake. Out of the coma, down from the high. Time to face reality. Ruthie entered.
"I'm done for the night," she said. Lena's eyes widened and she glanced at her watch. Hours had been lost. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Lena replied, taking a deep breath. "Have—Have a good night, Ruthie."
"Can I ask if you accepted that guy's offer?"
Lena glanced down at her scribbled handwriting. There were numbers, but they were too sloppily written. Gym on Block St came next. Lastly, 75. Her lips pursed and she sat back in her chair.
"Wear something white," she whispered, and that's all she could remember.
"What?" Ruthie asked.
Lena gave her the details as far as she could recall them, following the number one rule she held over her girls: always log where you're going. Ruthie expressed her concern over her bad feeling, Lena noted it, and the women parted ways.
Lena stood in the middle of her closet, considering every article of clothing she had that was white. Eventually she landed on an all-white, spaghetti-straps, backless dress. The material was breathable and easily hugged her curves, accenting her wider hips and most prized possession: her ass. Her breasts were modest, but her ass was something to be bragged about. She assumed it came with her thicker frame. And upon inspection of said frame, she wondered if her client was expecting some teeny-tiny woman, all bone and hard edges, something easily broken. Or maybe he wasn't expecting so much as hoping.
"Shut up," she whispered to herself as she applied the last bit of mascara along her lashes. It didn't matter what he was expecting or hoping for—she was going to give him a night to remember for years to come.
Lena popped two Percocets before crossing her driveway on three-inch heels, climbing into the back of a waiting Lexus not unlike the one she owned. The driver shut the door, and Lena read the details of the note to him, to which he replied he knew exactly where he was going. Lena watched the lights of Las Vegas pass by as they headed into a seedier part of the city. The Percs were kicking in, though, so the possible danger lurking nearby was completely lost on her.
"You want me to wait, ma'am?" the driver asked, glancing around the area uneasily as he parked the Lexus.
"It could be hours," Lena told him. She hadn't taken such a high dosage this time—she would be functional and hopefully desensitized, but the thought of hours of sex caused her heart to shiver. Could she even last that long anymore? Shit. She hadn't thought this through.
"I don't mind, ma'am," the driver replied. "This place looks sketchy as fuck. Pardon my language."
"Yeah," Lena sighed, eyes searching the rundown gym's curbside appeal. There was none. "It does." She looked at the driver through the rear view mirror. "If you wanna stay, I can't stop you, but I'm not asking you to." She gripped the door handle. "And don't come in," she advised. "Unless it's a goddamn life or death emergency."
"Yes ma'am."
Lena exited the car, noticing it hadn't driven away before the gym's door closed behind her. She headed down a long corridor, the distinct aroma of body odor and just man seeped into her nostrils and her body lit up. How long had it been since she'd smelled a man? She couldn't ignore the tingling between her legs, but she continued on through another door, entering a much larger space. Various workout equipment were scattered throughout, though it was the ring that had her attention immediately. The ropes surrounding the ring were black, the floor of it as well. Was this guy planning some sort of boxing match? Ah fuck, what have I done? She continued further into the room, heels clicking and echoing off the walls, and that's when she acknowledged the pounding she'd first heard upon entry. Initially she'd blamed her heart for the thumping, but no, it was real. Stepping around the ring, she spotted the man she guessed she was looking for.
Jon. He was shirtless, a pair of jeans belted and slung loosely on his trim hips. His skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, glistening over rippling muscles as he punched the bag in front of him. The back of his head was buzzed, revealing a scar about an inch in length, before his hair thickened toward the top. Well, well. She watched for as long as she could as he beat the hell out of the bag with both fists, grunting with the effort, and when his footwork brought his profile into view, Lena's eyes headed straight for his biceps. They weren't huge and disgusting, no, they were toned and well-defined, and they would be perfect for grabbing onto. His abs were flat and tight. Thank you, Jesus.
He noticed her then, glancing in her direction, asphyxiating her with cobalt blue eyes. And then she regretted it. Everything. Terror soared through her body with just that flash of azure. You can still back out. You haven't accepted payment yet. Maybe the driver decided to stay. He stopped hitting the bag, facing her, and her own eyes flickered to his pecs, the hard plane of his midsection, his fucking belly button. Goddamn. After a moment, he started toward her.
The Percocets were settling in nicely, easing her mind from worry and fear to please, sir, can I have some more? She watched the lines on his hips move with each step, both of them disappearing into the waistline of his worn jeans and black belt. When she was brave enough to meet his gaze again, his attention was focused on her body. And, leveling up her ego, he seemed impressed as he licked his lips, tongue poking out for longer than it should have. Lena was goddamn mesmerized, gulping as Jon swaggered over to her, shoulders dipping with each step, seeping insurmountable confidence. She clenched her thighs, playing it off by crossing one high heel over the other. Those blue eyes followed the movement closely, and then he was standing only inches from her. She wasn't smelling general maleness anymore—she could smell him. Sweat, remnants of a cologne applied much earlier in the day, cigarettes, and beer.
Jon lifted his hands, palms up to the ceiling. He wore padded black gloves that were fingerless. Despite being high as a kite, Lena understood, and she started with his left hand. She lifted a strap of velcro and then tugged, the glove coming off with a bit of muscle. After repeating the process for his right hand, she was able to quickly examine his long, slender fingers before he took the gloves from her and walked over to his gym bag in the corner of the room where he stuffed them inside. Lena hated that she'd lost his scent, but he was quick to return, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.
"What's the info?" he rumbled. Yeah, he'd done this before.
Lena surprised herself when she was able to give the account information clearly and correctly, and it wasn't but a few moments before her own phone was chiming an alert. She pulled the device from her purse.
"This is only half," she said.
"Half now, half after." He seemed prepared for her reaction.
This wasn't how Lena operated. Not normally, that is, and this was no normal situation. A normal situation required a name and the signing of a contract, after which payment was made and services were rendered. She ran a legitimate business. But Jon hadn't wanted to give his last name, so Lena rightly assumed he wouldn't be open to signing a contract either. She wondered if he'd ever signed a contract before. And she wondered if, when he was finished with her, he'd stiff her on the other half and she'd have no contract to back her up. Was that his plan?
"Full payment up front," she said, controlling her voice like a professional stoner. "It's a requirement."
He advanced on her, Lena instantly taking unsteady steps backward. "I don't give a fuck about your requirements," he seethed.
Lena's teeth clenched. "Do you want your queen or not?" she challenged. She watched as Jon's jaw muscles worked overtime and he breathed heavily from his nose. For a quick moment, she thought he might hit her. His eyes were fiery ice, lips a hard line behind a strawberry blonde beard. "It's just business."
"Fuckin' bitch," he grumbled, raising his phone, his thumbs passing over the screen. Her phone dinged again, this time informing her the rest of the balance had been paid. $75,000. Her biggest working payday ever.
Would it be worth it?
"Thank you," she said, tucking the phone back into her Chanel purse.
Before she could return her attention to Jon, he snatched the expensive purse from her grasp and tossed it near his gym bag. Lena opened her mouth to admonish him, but he was drawing near again, black boots landing heavily with each step. She backed up—maybe she wasn't ready for this, maybe she'd gotten herself into a losing situation, maybe she would die tonight—until she couldn't anymore, her back meeting the ring. He stopped only when his bare chest was pressed against her and he was leering down his nose at her. His left ear was pierced with a small hoop. His breath smelled like ashes and spearmint. He towered over her at more than six feet, a stark comparison to her five feet and a few inches. All in all, he was a devilishly handsome man, and it must have been the pills that had her focusing on his physicalities instead of the clear and present danger crowding her. He placed a huge hand on her hip and squeezed as he shoved his face into her neck and sucked in a deep breath. Lena gulped, losing her own oxygen. Her hands moved of their own accord until they landed on his clenched abdomen, resting their weight on the buckle of his belt.
"Sexy," he rumbled into her ear, his teeth passing over a diamond earring. Lena smirked, relaxing. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. His nose passed along her cheek, his right eye meeting hers, and suddenly his hand moved from her hip to the other side of her neck. "I'm gonna fucking wreck you," he promised, his tone hardly above a whisper. Lena's lungs froze, her body stilled, and all she could do was stay locked within his gaze as her grin fell. He seemed almost … apologetic? Or maybe she was seeing things. "And I paid good goddamn money for it." He mashed his face against hers, his beard scraping deliciously on her soft skin. "So you're gonna fucking take it. Do you hear me?"
Lena swallowed, her manicured nails now dipping into the waistband of his jeans and her hands were clutching his belt. It was a war zone inside her head, as half of her wanted to strip him naked and the other half wanted to take her heels off and run as fast as she could. He was promising a rough night ahead, and the expectation of her complete submission was not lost on her. He'd made a good point of having paid handsomely to have her for the night, and she wasn't one to end a contract prematurely, though there hadn't been a contract actually signed. The Percs were peaking. It was time to make a decision.
"Yes, sir," she whispered, tugging on his belt for emphasis.
Jon's rugged face was still pressed to hers, their eyes remaining locked. His lithe fingers danced down the front of her dress, brushing along her breasts, until they came to her hips. He began to pull the material of her dress up her thighs, right side first, then left, and back again, alternating until he revealed the white lace underneath. His fingers played along the waistline of her underwear.
"Take 'em off," he ordered. He backed up a few steps to watch.
Lena hooked her thumbs inside the lace and slowly pulled them down her legs, shocked at her ability to balance as she stepped out of the garment without getting it tangled in her heels. Jon held his hand out. Lena obediently handed over her underwear. He eyeballed her newly exposed skin as he brought the lace to his nose and inhaled. Lena lost her breath, biting hard on her bottom lip as he sucked in her scent. Her eyes followed as he stuffed the item into his back pocket. Would she get them back?
"Get in the ring."
Nervously, Lena glanced around, looking for steps of some kind, but saw none. Not lacking grace, she grabbed onto one of the ropes, knee on the floor of the ring, and lifted herself up. She passed through the ropes and found herself in the middle of the ring. Jon lithely leapt into the ring with her, and he began to stalk her, circling her slowly as he glared sideways at her. One minute he seemed into her, the next he appeared disgusted.
"When's the last time you fucked for money?" he asked.
Lena watched him as he passed in front of her. "Five years," she replied. Jon opened his mouth, but Lena beat him to it. "Sir."
Jon's brows rose, impressed or flattered, Lena wasn't sure. "And when's the last time you were just fucked?"
"By a man or a woman, sir?"
This gave Jon pause. His boots planted and his grin was diabolical. Was that a dimple? His cheekbones were perfect. Why was it always the hot ones who made everything more complicated than it had to be?
"Man."
"About two years, sir."
"And a woman?"
"Six months, sir."
"Pussy or dick?"
"I can live without pussy, sir, but I can't live without dick."
Jon nodded, satisfied. He stood before her in all his glory. Lena waited patiently for another question. "Get on your knees." His voice was gruff but surprisingly soft, betraying his terrifying exterior. Lena complied, finding the floor of the ring forgiving, though still uncomfortable. Jon sauntered over to her, his belt close enough she could unbuckle it with her teeth. He placed a hand on the side of her face, yanking the other side against his hardening cock. Lena gasped, looking up at him with glittering green eyes, and she couldn't help the smile as he started thrusting along her cheek, excitement straining against the denim.
"Is this what you want, whore?" he growled, fingers tightening on her face. It wasn't the first time she'd been called a whore, and, in fact, it was true, so it never really bothered her. Nor did it ever particularly turn her on. Until now.
"Yes, sir," she whispered, eyes never leaving his. Highlighting her admission, she swiped her tongue along the zipper of Jon's jeans. A rumble emerged from deep within his hard chest.
"Are you worth $75,000?"
Lena's grin was wicked and a small giggle escaped her throat. Jon's fingers twitched against her cheek. Fuck, these Percs. "Yes, sir," she pledged.
Jon released her head and began work on his belt. Lena watched his fingers, glancing up into his eyes, returning then to the scene unfolding before her. He unbuttoned his jeans, pulled down the zipper. Lena licked her lips, eyes widening when he revealed his impressive manhood. She waited for orders, watching with blown pupils as he stroked himself inches from her face. Clear liquid oozed from the head, and Lena's fucking mouth watered.
"Open your mouth," he ordered. Lena complied. "Stick your tongue out." Again she obliged. "You want it, bitch?" Lena nodded, jaw still hanging lewdly.
He shoved his dick into her awaiting mouth, bypassing her gag reflex, ending directly in her throat. Lena relaxed as best she could, placing her utmost trust in a complete stranger. Her hands clutched at his hanging belt, not pulling, not pushing. She couldn't breathe, windpipe completely obstructed, and she felt her own essence starting to slide from her folds down her thighs. She'd forgotten what it was like to be with a man, to be owned, to be used. All things she'd loved in the past and, clearly, still enjoyed now. Her lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen, but still she didn't fight. As if he knew precisely what her breaking point was, he yanked himself out of her mouth abruptly, and Lena gasped for precious air.
"Goddamn, girl," Jon chuckled darkly, returning to jerking himself just above her face. Lena couldn't—or wouldn't—stop the prideful grin that split her reddening lips. Was she worth $75,000? Well, they'd both find out together. "Lick." Her tongue instantly lathed his balls, their eyes engaged, his hand still pumping.
After several moments, he jabbed his cock back into her mouth, riding her face at an incredible speed. Lena choked, she gagged, and tears sprang from her eyes, trailing down her cheeks.
"Look at me, bitch," he commanded. Lena lifted her glistening eyes to his, brows knitted with the aching in her jaw. Jon had one hand in her hair she felt falling out of its pins, the other at the junction of her jawline and neck. After a few more snaps of his trim hips, he pulled out, a bridge of saliva connecting the tip of his cock to the bottom of Lena's lip. He bent down then, pressing his forehead to hers, and Lena was gulping for air again. "I love when whores cry," he panted into her open mouth. Blue and green were locked again when his tongue left his mouth to swipe up her cheek, collecting all the tears he could. "You're so fucking sexy."
"Thank you, sir," Lena breathed, goddamn desperate for more. This side of her had been long since forgotten. She'd missed this side. She loved this side.
"You want more?"
"Yes, sir."
Jon's grin was fleeting. "How bad?" he challenged. He gripped her throat, stroking himself with his other hand. Lena grunted at another loss of oxygen.
"God, so fucking bad, sir," she wilted, unknowingly reaching up to clutch at his wrist.
"Open your fucking—" But he didn't finish before his cock was buried to the hilt in Lena's throat once more. He pounded her mouth, relentless, Lena taking everything he had just like he'd directed her to do. The fluid leaking down her thighs had almost made it to her knees. "Fuck!" Jon shouted, removing himself, replacing her mouth with his hand. He dropped a palm on her forehead, and Lena instinctively dropped her jaw again, hooded eyes meeting her client's. Moments later, he was shooting into her mouth and across her cheek, warm, thick, salty come Lena remembered thoroughly enjoying the flavor of. When he finished, he scooped the substance from her skin with his thumb and inserted it into her mouth. Lena sucked. "Swallow." Lena gulped.
"Mmm," she moaned, smiling, impressed with her own skills.
"You're off to a good start, whore," Jon threw over a massive shoulder as he turned from her, tucking himself back into his jeans. He fell to the canvas and rolled out of the ring. "There's a bathroom down the hall."
Taking this as a hint that he wanted her to clean up, Lena climbed unsteadily to her heels. Her legs were unstable, knees sore, and her throat screamed. She stepped over the middle rope, bent under the top one, and gingerly maneuvered her heels onto the floor. Jon was fiddling with his phone as she headed down the hallway, entering the only door on the right hand side. Looking in the broken mirror, she removed all the pins from her skewed chestnut hair, watching as it fell well past her shoulders. She cleaned the mascara and eyeliner from under her eyes, the lipstick from around her lips. Her cheeks were flushed, remaining that way as she wiped the drool from her chin and neck with paper towels. She thought about touching herself, just a quick circle of her finger around her clit would be enough to quench her thirst for now. She refrained, however, worried that Jon would somehow know and be pissed that she'd been enjoying herself on his dime.
Exiting the bathroom with aching feet, Lena made her way back to the gym. Jon was leaning against the ring, more-than-capable arms crossed over his ample chest, waiting for her. His belt had been left unbuckled, button open, with only the zipper struggling to hold his jeans on his hips. From the looks of things, the item was failing to do its job. He said nothing as she approached, simply watched her with hooded cerulean eyes. When she was within an arm's length, he grabbed her hips, lifted, and dropped her ass on the edge of the ring. His coarse hands glided along her silky legs, and Lena wasn't sure this was the same man who'd just fucked her mouth into oblivion. Her dress was still bunched around her hips, so Jon was easily able to spread her knees and get his second eye full of her soaking sex.
"You love a cock in your mouth, don't you?" he asked, middle finger skimming her slick slit.
Lena beamed, taking a chance and reaching out for his shoulders. He allowed her to touch him, and she squeezed the muscle, scraping her nails along his skin gently. "Yes, sir," she purred. A gasp broke away from her lips as his finger pushed past her folds and came in contact with the all-important bundle of nerves.
"Wet as fuck," he gushed. His finger brushed back and forth, and Lena's entire body twitched. "Fuckin' whore," he chuckled, shaking his head. And then his finger was gone and his shoulders were out of her hands. Lena opened eyes she hadn't realized were closed in time to watch as Jon sucked his middle finger into his mouth. "Taste sweet, though."
"Thank you, sir," Lena breathed, desperate for more of his touch, rolling her hips to punctuate her need.
"You wanna come?" Jon grumbled.
Lena nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Do it yourself." He crossed his arms over his chest again.
This would be about the easiest thing she'd ever done on a job before. A few quick pumps is all it would take with the current eye-candy standing before her. Lena chewed her bottom lip as her own fingers slipped into her wetness, a reckless moan pouring from her mouth. Jon sashayed back over to her, ordering her to continue what she was doing as he ripped the flimsy straps from across her shoulders so he could pull the top of her dress down below her white lace strapless bra. He stepped back as if to admire his handiwork.
"Fuck," Lena groaned, pressing harder with her fingers.
"What's got you so wet, darlin'?" Jon asked.
"You, sir," Lena breathed.
"Yeah?" Lena nodded. "Look at me." She opened her eyes, again unaware they had been closed at all, finding Jon leisurely stroking his growing cock above his hanging belt.
"So fucking hot," she moaned, her fingers moving in time with his stroking. She reached back and gripped the middle rope with her free hand. "God, I'm gonna come …"
Jon was on her in a second, slapping her hand away just as she was on the verge of falling off the cliff. He nudged her thighs further apart with his broad shoulders before driving his face into her drenched pussy.
"Jesus Christ," Lena sobbed, hand clutching the back of his shaved head. "Jon!" she screamed as she came harder than she had in her entire life, coating the hot tongue still lapping at her clit, her heels digging into her client's muscular back. She didn't even know if Jon was his real name, and she seemed to have forgotten the word sir, but she just didn't care, continuing to whisper his name like a fucking prayer as she slowly came down. The Percocets were still working through her system, no doubt having a hand in the intensity of the moment.
"You taste fucking good," Jon growled against her. Lena's sensitive body jerked at the vibration. "Get back in the ring, on your hands and knees."
Lena smirked. Fucking finally. She rolled around and began crawling toward the center of the ring. She didn't get very far before one of Jon's giant hands slapped down on her right ass cheek. Lena threw her head back, hair flying, and whimpered. Her skin stung as she continued on, stopping where she believed the center to be, remaining on hands and knees. She was exposed, incredibly so, but she was exposed to Jon. The thought alone had her back arching. The floor below her bounced with his weight behind her, and her teeth chomped on her bottom lip, the anticipation killing her. His boots nudged her knees to create more space between them, Lena's hips protesting as she felt him drop to his knees between her separated legs. He smacked her left cheek this time, gaining much of the same response.
"You may suck a good cock, but none of that shit matters if you're not—" He eased two fingers inside her saturated hole. "—fucking tight."
Lena's breath hitched, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I told you, sir," she sighed, rolling her hips back against his fingers as they delved deeper and deeper, "it's been a while."
"A tight whore," Jon sneered, removing his fingers, much to Lena's dismay. "Fuckin' hilarious."
Lena rolled her eyes, still bucking her hips backward, searching for any kind of contact. Jon slapped her right cheek, hard, and Lena cried out. They repeated the act when he abused the left cheek.
"Now that's a pretty color on a perfect fucking ass," he remarked, palming her ass, soothing the stinging. His chuckle was black, and he without warning snatched a fistful of her dress so he could haul her backward, her back smashing against his unforgiving chest.
Fuck, he felt so good pressed against her. She could smell him again, feel his scorching breath on her neck and ear. She reached back to wrap her hand around his neck.
"I'm comin' in raw, bitch," he warned, teeth clinking against the diamond stud in her lobe. "Anything I should know?"
Lena's thoughts were jumbled and coated in a layer of sex, so it took much longer than it should have for her to figure out what he was saying and what he was asking. A huge risk on so many levels—for her, of course, because she knew she was clean and never missed a birth control pill. But what about Jon? It was obvious he'd ordered escorts before. Had he asked them the same thing? Who else would she be fucking if she let him inside her without protection?
It was the risk, though, the filth of it all, that kicked her toward the unsavory response.
"Nope," she replied, lips popping. "You?"
"What, do I look like I do this all the time?" he rasped before flattening his hand across the expanse of her back and shoved her forward. Lena barely caught herself on her elbows, preventing a direct face plant, and she kept her mouth shut in reply. She wasn't touching that one with a ten foot pole. "I asked you a question, bitch." He smacked her ass, Lena whined.
"No, sir," she lied. She gasped upon feeling the head of his cock rubbing along her dripping slit. "Fuck."
"This what you want?" he grumbled, grinding his hard dick between her folds.
"Fuck yes," Lena spewed in a breath of hot air.
Jon stuffed himself inside her much like he had her mouth, but the pain was a hell of a lot different. Lena thought she would split in two, death by dick, and she began to weep. He heard her crying, he had to, but his pumping never subsided. If anything, it only increased in speed and ferocity. He pulled her back against him once more, panting into her ear. She felt the buckle of his belt digging into her skin.
"Cryin' for me again?" he murmured.
Lena sniffled, tears still streaming down her flushed cheeks. "It hurts," she admitted. "It's been too long, and you're so fucking big …" Telling a man he was well-endowed was all part of the show, usually. This time, it really fucking wasn't about boosting his ego.
He gripped her face and squeezed, turning her head toward him. "Look at me," he growled, "and say it again."
Gulping, Lena met his predatory gaze with her watery emeralds, feeling pathetic. Not worth $75,000. "It hurts," she mewled. Here's where she expected a slap to her face and an acceleration in his thrusts for being a disappointing product. That's the path these situations typically took in her experience.
Astonishingly, his hips slowed. Their eyes were still locked with one another's, Lena lost in an ocean of the clearest blue. The pain was beginning to fade.
"You've been a good girl tonight," Jon praised. "Consider this a tip."
"Thank you, sir," Lena whispered. She reveled in the gentle rolling of his hips into her, knowing it wouldn't last long. As soon as the pain was nearly nonexistent, she bowed her back, drawing him further inside her, eliciting a roar from deep in his solid pecs.
Jon pushed her back onto her hands and returned to his preferred pace of fucking. Lena's mouth hung open as she took it, pussy continuing to drip down her thighs and onto the canvas beneath her. Jon wrapped a hand around her hair, pulling her head back, and her spine popped with the further arching of her back. They went on like this for several minutes. Jon pulled out without warning and tossed her like a fucking rag doll onto her back. He brought a heel over his shoulder, spreading her other leg wide, and he reentered her roughly.
Lena groaned, drinking in the sight of this alpha male having his way with her. Holy fuck, the man was sexy. And confident. And experienced. And fucking talented. Watching his eyes, Lena pulled the cups of her bra down below her breasts, smiling as Jon licked his lips. He grabbed hold of the lacey material between her breasts and proceeded to pound relentlessly into her, using her bra as leverage. Her tits bounced until Lena grabbed them, kneading them, pinching her nipples.
"Arms over your fuckin' head," Jon ordered. Lena complied, however unwilling. He fucked her tirelessly, blindsiding the escort with his significant stamina.
"God," Lena groaned, spine bowing when Jon's dick touched a spot inside her that had never been touched before. "Jon."
"Say my fucking name," Jon drawled. He clutched her leg against his torso and smacked her thigh with his other hand.
"Jon," Lena whimpered. "Please?"
He tossed her leg off his shoulder so he could lean over her, his elbows on either side of her head. "I'm gonna come inside you," he told her. Lena gasped, locking her hands above her head to keep from reaching out to him. "And you're gonna thank me, aren't you?"
Lena nodded. "Yes, sir," she panted.
It only took a few more strong pumps before Jon's hips stuttered and he cried out, emptying himself inside her just as he'd promised. After several moments, he pulled out, but placed his hands on Lena's thighs, maintaining their separation. She felt his come begin to leak out of her and she felt a bit self conscious as he watched the lewd results of their incredible fucking.
"Thank you, sir," Lena purred.
Jon lithely climbed to his feet, stuffing himself inside his jeans and zipping them, again leaving the button open and the belt hanging. Lena pulled her bra up over her breasts, and then her dress, wondering if the flimsy material would even stay up without the straps.
"Do whatever you gotta do," Jon said as he climbed out of the ring, jumping down to the floor. "I'll be ready again in a little bit."