Disclaimer - All recognisable characters belong to their original owners. I do not make a profit from writing this; I simply do it for my own amusement. No copyright infringement intended.
Chapter One
Just finished. Be there in 20 minutes.
I blew out a delicate breath after reading his text. After rising from my chair quickly, I checked myself in the mirror in my office as I reapplied my blood-red lipstick. I smirked. He loved it when I wore red, said it really complimented my pouty lips, enhanced them, made every man want to shove me to my knees and force their cock down my throat, only stopping when there was a red ring around the base of their shaft.
I had blushed when he told me that. He had a way of doing just that - making me do things I never normally did. Like blushing, or sleeping with clients… or caring.
Leaving my office, I put two fingers into my mouth, careful of my newly applied lipstick, and whistled, the shrill sound echoing through the house.
Within seconds, my girls emerged in various states of undress, their eyes instantly finding me. We knew what was happening today and so hadn't booked anyone else in.
"Twenty minutes, ladies, and then it's showtime!" I announced.
Giggles and squeals met my ears as they disappeared, ready to disappear backstage to put on their best lingerie, accessories and the most sultry makeup. The girls loved it when The Dirty Ghosts came over. The Ghosts treated them well and, more often than not, they had the fucking decency to make sure they actually came.
I smiled, loving their eagerness to 'work'. Seven years ago, I had made it my mission to create a safe working place for whores. Surprised I used that word? That's what we were. Whores. We fucked for money, enjoying ourself while we were at it, too. Sex workers shouldn't be ashamed of what we do.
My goal was to create a great environment for working girls, where they didn't have to worry about violence, diseases, or over-controlling pimps. I was proud to say I fucking succeeded. With flying colors, no less. The Wild Rose was a success, we were the best brothel in all of Nevada by far, and it showed in our profit margins. And our lifestyle.
The Wild Rose was my baby, and I'd fight any fucker who tried to take her from me. I'd come from the streets, been used, torn apart and abused. And now I was on top of the world. No one could say I shied away from hard work. It was my turn to shine, and I wasn't hesitant to share my pot of gold.
"Rose! Help me zip up my dress?" Alice asked, her eyes wide as she desperately tried to draw her arms far enough behind her to reach the zipper.
Her healthy nerves made me chuckle as I tugged the metallic tab up her petite back. "Of course."
I spent the next minutes making sure that all the girls were ready and presentable. We always profited immensely, whenever the Ghosts came back from a ride and wanted to be ridden themselves for a change.
They were pumped on adrenaline, and there were only two ways they got rid of it: fighting or fucking. It was safe to say the boys preferred fucking. Hell, we did, too. A good, long hard fuck soothed the Ghosts more than the bloodiest fight ever could. My girls were good at what they did, they took pride in the hustle.
And yes, these were my girls. I'd helped all of them out in one way or another, because I never wanted anyone to endure the shit that I had. No one should have to live through that pain.
When the loud roar of engines burst through the open windows, I could feel the energy in the room change. It became charged, sexual, ready, and it made me lick my lips in anticipation.
The large black door burst open to reveal Felix, his entire frame filling up the doorway. "Fuck yeah, baby!" he shouted, grabbing his crotch and thrusting it. "We showed those fuckers!"
Demetri appeared behind him, wrapping firm arms around his gigantic boyfriend, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek as they scanned the foyer, looking for Leah – the only woman who could manage two cock-loving Ghosts who were lusting for pussy.
The adrenaline was high today, pulsing through the room. My girls shifted, their eyes watching and waiting.
More and more of the MC piled through, loud, raucous voices filling the foyer as they each claimed a girl and took them upstairs, hands lifting dresses, sliding into lace and silk until they found what they were looking for: wet and ready cunts to play with for the night.
Within minutes, the brothel was filled with moans and groans of pleasure, some members not even making it to the bedrooms. It was no bother. I catered to all sexual fantasies.
Walking to the front window, I turned the sign to 'Closed'. Usually, we were a 24/7 brothel, open for whomever and whenever, but when the MC came, they liked us to themselves. The Ghosts didn't appreciate other men around - it meant they couldn't discuss their business.
As I made my way back to the desk, I heard the door open and then close, the lock clicking into place. I knew who it was immediately. My body always reacted - my nipples pebbling into my lace bra and my pussy flooding, soaking my best lingerie.
I turned around, bright blue eyes instantly blazing into mine. "I take it you had a good run?" This was what we did - I already knew the answer, but this was part of the fun, the build-up.
"No one's going to encroach on our territory again," Emmett said, his voice deep. His dark blond hair, which he usually had tied back in a bun, was loose around his face, the strands caressing his t-shirt.
I gave him a coy smile, leaning back against the desk, pushing my tits out. Emmett's eyes immediately zeroed onto them, licking his lips. He loved my breasts, loved burying his cock in between them before coming on my throat in thick, hot spurts that leaked all over my chest. In fact, Emmett loved every inch of my body; my pouty lips, my slim waist, bigger hips, and 'delightfully fuckable ass' - his words, not mine.
He wasn't too bad to look at himself. Okay, that was an understatement. The man was sex on legs. At six foot six, he was tall and muscled, not an inch of fat covering his body. Two rings pierced his ears, another in his nose, whilst two bars decorated his nipples - it made him that little bit sexier, had me whimpering when I thought about him
Then there were the tattoos. They covered his entire body; black ink swirling across his skin.
A giant skull took up most of his stomach, whilst indescribable black lines swirled around his limbs and back. I would trace them with my tongue, wetting the ink, listening to his hisses of pleasure - loving that I could reduce him to a sobbing mess. It was only fair; he did that to me more frequently than I would ever admit.
"Would you like a drink?" I asked when I noticed his eyes sliding down my body, drinking in the white dress that I wore.
I wondered if he was thinking about what underwear I was wore tonight. . He knew I wore lace - always. It made me feel sexy and powerful. And it was always matching. I bet he was trying to work out which set I picked out. I had a surprise for him. It was a new set; black floral. Other girls had a dress or shoe addiction; mine was sexy underwear.
"Depends on what you're offering." Blatantly, Emmett adjusted himself, his hand going to his tight jeans as he grabbed his long, rock hard cock through it. His eyes met mine - a challenge. He wanted to see what I would do.
Oh, silly boy.
"We've got beer, champagne, water?"
Emmett shook his head. "Nah. I'd much rather bend you over that desk and drink straight from your sweet cunt."
Fuck. Me.
How Emmett did this, I would never know. With a few words, he had reduced me to a trembling mess, visions of his face between my legs, his hair tickling my thighs as he fucked me with his tongue. Because that's what he did. His tongue would plunge in and out of my pussy like his cock did, his nose tickling my clit. His hands would pin me down, stop me from moving as he took all he wanted from me.
My hands would be in his hair, pulling him into me, begging for more until it got too much, and I felt like I was experiencing an earthquake. And the fucker wouldn't stop.
Emmett would continue, eating me out like a maniac until I was physically trying to kick him off. Still, the bastard wouldn't stop. I'd feel his smirk against me, his tongue probing deeper until a silent scream fell from my mouth and I squirted all over his face and chest, coating him with my cream.
Emmett was the only man I had ever squirted for. He was fucking pleased as shit about that, too. Sometimes, I think he wanted to get it put on a t-shirt.
I gave him a flirty smile and then turned around, shoving my ass out. "Be my guest," I told the air, waiting to feel his touch on me, his hands on my hips, hot breath against my ear as he thrust his jean-clad erection hotly into my ass.
Seconds later, his large hands were on my hips, searing heat through the thin material of my dress. "You know I don't fucking share you, Rosie." His voice was harsh in my ear, the bite of his teeth against my lobe a reminder of how serious his words were. Emmett didn't share me with anyone. I was off-limits. Everybody in Nevada knew that. Emmett and only Emmett had the pleasure of fucking me, and oh, what a pleasure it was.
"My name is Rose," I said, thrusting my ass against his cock and then grinding backwards. I wanted him feral by the time he fucked me. "Not, Rosie." I could still remember the first time he called me that, the annoyance I felt. It's alright. I made him make it up to me. I sat on his face until I came and then fucked myself with the swollen head of his cock until I was dripping. Then, and only then, did I fuck him thoroughly. Emmett called it the sweetest torture he had ever experienced.
One of Emmett's large hands left my hips as he slid it up to my neck. He pushed my head back, so it was resting on his shoulder, and then squeezed lightly, my eyes rolling back in my head.
"I'll call you whatever I want, princess" - another fucking nickname I hated - "and you'll love it."
The urge to resist; to tell him to fuck off, push him away and rebel, was strong.
The hand that was on my hip delved into my panties, his thick fingers finding my clit.
The urge to resist left. I wasn't going to rebel, not when he was touching me in the way that I so desperately craved.
"You're so fucking wet," Emmett snarled into my ear.
Good. I could feel his control crumbling, shattering into a million pieces around us.
"Now get up those stairs, swinging this delicious ass of yours as you go. You know I love to watch it."
"Whatever you say, Em," I moaned, instantly missing his touch when he released me.
Teasingly slow, I stepped away from Emmett, not bothering to look behind me as I began to ascend the grand staircase that led to my bedroom.
I could feel Emmett's gaze on me. It made me hot, wetter, needy.
Neither of us said anything as Emmett fell into step behind me, unbuttoning his jeans and lowering his zipper.
Oh, that's how he wanted to play. I was in for a wild ride.
Once we got to my bedroom, I stopped in front of my bed and turned, need evident in my eyes. Emmett shut the door behind him and then pinned me down with his gaze. "Turn around, hands on the bed, ass in the air."
I did exactly as he asked, my fingers digging into the soft comforter as I waited, anticipation building as desire soared through my veins.
I didn't have to wait long. Emmett's large hands roughly pulled my dress up, exposing my new black lace thong.
"They're new," I told him sweetly, hating how fucking breathless I sounded, how wanton he made me.
This wasn't me. I wasn't supposed to be like this, not over some man, a client. But with Em, I was. I couldn't help myself around the King of the Dirty Ghosts. "So don't fucking rip them."
Emmett's fingers dug into the flesh of my ass. "What are you going about it if I wanna rip them?" he asked me cheekily.
"I'll punish you." I was wet, so fucking wet, and I was one hundred percent sure that Emmett could feel the dampness through my thong.
Emmett chuckled, deep and low, the sound doing dangerous things to my nipples. "Punish me?" He laughed. "Last time you punished me, you sat on my face. I'd hardly call that a punishment."
With the words barely off his tongue, Emmett's fingers grasped either side of my French lace, and ripped them to shreds, immediately exposing my dripping cunt to his gluttonous eyes.
"Oh, you fucker!" I moaned, not at all caring - but I needed to keep up pretenses, right?
I felt Emmett kneel behind me, his hot breath ghosting across the swollen flesh of my exposed pussy. "You've got such a dirty mouth, Rosie. I think once you've come on my face, I need to put it to good use."
I knew exactly what he meant - and God, did I want that.
I had no time to tell him that, no time to continue our game of me trying to pretend that he didn't make me drip like a broken faucet, and him trying to spank the brat out of me. We both knew it would never happen. No one stood up to him the way I did. They were all too afraid, scared of what he might do to them; a knife in the stomach or a bullet between the eyes. He wouldn't do any of those things to me. I knew it. I could see it in his eyes when he fucked me, my limbs wrapped around him like a limpet, refusing to release him from my grasp.
I talked back to him, called him out on his bullshit, and was happy to go toe to toe with him - it turned him on. It turned me on, knowing that I had that power. Knowing that he gave that power to me
My protest died on my tongue when he spread the lips of my pussy, opening me up for his perusal.
The humid air of the room invaded me, slipping into my skin. Emmett didn't like the a/c on in my room when he was here. He liked to make us sweat, liked to lick it from my body as it rolled off me, his tongue collecting every fucking droplet he could taste.
"I love looking at your cunt, Rosie. It's so pretty - all slick and swollen, pink and ready for me." His voice was so deep, so gravely - he was on the knife's edge of losing control. And God, I would do my best to push him over the edge.
"Yes," I moaned, my hips rocking back towards his face slightly as my back arched deeply. I craved his dirty words, his approval, his perusal of me. All of it. I wanted all of it.
His thumbs ran up either side of my pussy, and I swear to God I almost came right there and then.
"Fuck," I muttered, half wanton whore, half pissed at myself that I allowed this to happen - for me to become so vulnerable. To allow one person the ability to turn me inside out with a single look, a flick of his fingers, the lightest of touches. Seven years ago, I would have laughed at this, but now? Now I fucking embraced it.
Emmett's hot breath greeted the heat of my scorching pussy just seconds before he tongued my clit.
My legs turned to jelly, and my knees wobbled, fingers desperately clutching the fabric of the bed as want was racing through my veins, hotly followed by anticipation - desperation for more.
"Oh, God." I thrust my hips back into his face, not caring how slutty, how easy I was. I wanted his tongue fucking my cunt, and I wanted it fucking my cunt now.
Emmett did not disappoint. He ate me out like a man starving, lightly flicking my clit with the tip of his tongue before pushing flat against it, sucking it into his mouth.
His tongue drew incessant circles over my clit. It had me closing my eyes, my mouth open as uncontrollable noises spilled from me.
And just as I was on the edge, about to fall over the most delicious precipe known to man, Emmett pushed two of his thick fingers straight inside me.
I didn't fall. I flew. I fucking flew.
A scream ripped from my throat as my sopping pussy clenched around his fingers, sucking him deeper, refusing to let him stop the sweet pleasure he was giving me.
I heard him mumble praise against me, something about "beautiful", "Rosie", "mine", but I was too wrapped up in my own euphoric feelings to give a fuck.
Emmett's fingers left me then, and I'm not ashamed to say that I mewled like an animal in heat. I was an addict. Addicted to Emmett and the way he could make me feel. I didn't want this to stop. I didn't want him to stop - not even for a second.
In response, he bit my ass, a hard bite that I knew would leave a mark. I fucking loved it. Wearing his marks. Just like he liked wearing mine. How sick we were.
"Ah!" I cried, feeling the bite of each of his teeth into the round flesh of my rump. "Fuck," I panted, absolutely adoring the way that when he pulled back, I could feel traces of his saliva on my skin.
"It's going to be a hard ride, Rosie," he snarled darkly. "Hard and fast, and hot. Just like I know you like it."
I did like it that way. I didn't do lovey-dovey shit; give me wham, bam, thank-you ma'am any day of the week.
"Fuck me, Em," I pleaded, tugging the comforter closer to me and shifting on my feet as I went.
More. I wanted more.
A grunt of acknowledgement was all I got before he dragged the end of his cock up and down my pussy, teasing me - just like I had teased him that first time, my wetness echoing through my room.
"Beg," Emmett ordered. "Beg for my cock."
I could pretend that I wasn't a needy bitch, that I didn't want to feel him inside me, pounding away, filling me in all the right ways. But that wouldn't get me what I wanted. It wouldn't get Emmett what he wanted. He knew I'd beg, implore, pray - anything for what I wanted. For what he wanted. For what we wanted.
"Please, Em. Please put your fat cock inside me. Fuck me good. Only you can, anyway. I want you, your cock!" I moved my hips as I spoke, rolling his bellend up and down my folds, coating him with my juices.
It was enough.
"Shit," he cursed before ramming his long cock inside me, stretching me all the way.
Our moans were loud. They swirled around the room and no doubt around the entire house. It gave me a thrill to know that others would hear us. That the girls would hear him fucking me and know that none of them would ever get to feel his dick inside them. That his own MC could only imagine what I felt like wrapped around them - Emmett didn't fucking share me, and I didn't share him.
I was still slick from Emmett's tongue and fingers, making his cock slide in and out of me with ease, the sound of wet flesh slapping together like music to my fucking ears.
"Fuck, yeah," he moaned. "Listen to that."
Emmett pounded harder, drawing the sound out, making me cry out. I loved that noise. I fucking loved it. It's what I thought about when I was alone, and my fingers and vibrators weren't enough.
I'd finger-fuck myself, moving quickly to create the melody that our bodies would make. It always had me coming, had me turning my head to bite the pillow, so no one else heard me.
Unable to take it, I flopped down face first in the bed, screaming as another orgasm washed over me like liquid gold, rendering me speechless and breathless. It had my toes curling in my expensive shoes, my mouth opening as wide as it could, and my eyes squeezing tightly shut, so hard that a bright white light burst beneath my lids.
"Oh, God!" Emmett growled. "Your little cunt is squeezing me so tight. Fuck. That's right, milk me, princess."
Princess. Still fucking hated that name. But my body was a traitor. My pussy contracted around his cock, a vice-like grip that had his hands bruising into the flesh of my hips as he thrust hard and then shot hot jets of cum into me.
I fucking loved it. I loved feeling it inside me, the searing hot heat burning me with its intensity. And Emmett was the only man I'd ever felt it with. The only man I willingly let fuck me without a condom. We didn't have to worry about kids - my previous life had made sure of that. But it was intimate, letting someone come inside you. It said you trusted them, and they trusted you. I suppose what Emmett and I had was that - trust. In some twisted way or another, it made sense.
Emmett flopped down on top of me, every inch of his body plastering mine against the bed. His weight was a comfort. Leaning down, he pressed kisses to my neck, his hair covering my face.
I reached a hand back and twisted my fingers in the soft strands, holding him close to me.
In here, my bedroom, we could be Rose and Emmett. Out there, I was Rosalie, ex-prostitute and brothel owner and Emmett was 'Mac', president of The Dirty Ghosts. I like being Rosalie, but I also liked being his Rosie. Apart we were tough as nails, but together we were solid. For each other, we were soft.
A huge thank you to Pearly and Dani. Let me know what you think!