My dear little broccolis💚💚💚

💚 This is a re-upload, Until chapter 8

💚 So, I want to put this reminder here. This story contains DIRTY TALKING. If it's not your kink, don't read, or at least don't complain about it. It's not going to be heavy, but it's still going to be there.

💚 So, just to clear out a few things. Christian and Gia WERE engaged, but it is no longer the case. Still, they are best friends, and Christian more or less said in the first chapter that she was the only girl he had sex with. Also, he clearly said he doesn't masturbate. And Gia is the one who broke off the engagement, and she implied that it was because she knew there was something off in their sex life.

💚 How Much💚

Christian has some singular taste when it comes to his sexual preferences, but he's never dared voice them. He never manages to climax because of that, and it leaves him frustrated. One night, he decides to try the last solution that comes to his mind …

‼️Rated M - {Out Of Characters/All Human/Alternate Universe}‼️

‼️Romance/Family/Drama/Lemons‼️

‼️AS/CG/Carrick Grey/Raymond Steele/Elliott/Gia‼️

💚 READ & REVIEW, DON'T BE A SILENT READER 💚

Chapter 2: How Much For The Truth? (3,9K)

Christian's Pov

I keep staring at her, still frozen and unsure of what to do. I mean, I know what I'm supposed to do, but … well, I'm not so sure anymore. Getting a hooker in your room is not as easy as it sounds. And … well, she looks young.

But Miss Pink doesn't wait for me to invite her in, she just waltzes in, all smiles as I keep my eyes on her. Compared to Gia, she is rather short. But then again, Gia is a model, and she is taller than the average woman.

Miss Pink has a great hourglass that would put Marilyn Monroe to shame. I don't know if it's because of the heels, but her legs look endless. And her skin looks flawless. She's any man's perfect wet dream.

And her face … She looks like a porcelain doll. A modern one with pink hair, but still, she looks like a doll. I don't know if it's because her skin is so white, or if it is because of her bright pink lipstick, or her sparkling blue eyes. But yeah … She is a pretty girl, and her smirk as she checks me out, tells me that she knows it.

"So …" She trails, her soft voice trailing as her eyes go from my head to my toes. I see her linger a moment longer on my left hand, before she asks, "What is it you want me to do for you, Mr T? Mrs Lincoln wasn't very specific."

"Erm … Do you want to drink something?" I deflect, turning to the mini-bar as a thought occurs to me. Is she even old enough to legally drink? I pale, but when I turn to assess her again, she is much closer than I had anticipated.

I clear my throat, my hand still holding a glass of whiskey, and she reaches to touch my chest, her fingers trailing my body all the way to my hand. She takes the drink from it, and puts it down on the bar, as she points out,

"The whole point of calling me is that you don't have to buy me a drink first."

Once again, I clear my throat, and I put some distance between us. If it wasn't obvious before that I've never done this, now I can't hide it anymore. I look at her, thinking of my father and how this could ruin his whole career. He has always preached family values, and last time I checked, hookers didn't fit into those.

And Mom. What would Mom say if she could see me now? I really hope she's busy playing chess with Mother Theresa up there. I don't want her to see this.

And … she just looks young. Too young. Jailbait young. What is she doing here? Why is she selling her body? Why so young? Where are her parents? There're probably some issues. Her father probably left her when she was still a child, and she is trying to fill the void, now. I mean … that's the drill, no?

"How old are you?" I finally ask her. I'm not having sex with a minor. In fact, I'm not having sex with someone who's not old enough to drink.

She smirks, a small snicker escaping her lips as she confidently tells me, "25."

She doesn't look 25. She barely looks 18. But then again, if she is underage, she's not going to promote that, now, is she? Still, I ask, "Is that really the truth?"

She genuinely laughs at that, throwing her head back and she reminds me of a hard truth, "Who pays a hooker for her honesty? I'm here for the fantasy, not the reality."

"What if I pay for the truth, would I truly get it?" I insist. I am not having sex with some poor underage girl with daddy issues.

She cocks her head to the side, looking at me with curiousness before she sits on the armchair, crossing her legs the same way Sharon Stone gave a boner to many men in the 90s.

"Make it double then."

I barely blink, reaching for the wallet in my pocket and I pay her in advance the night as I tell her, "I'll give you the rest when we're done."

Mrs Lincoln, the matron, told me that it's half up front, half when Miss Pink would leave. She doesn't check and puts the money in her purse as I sit on the sofa facing the chair. I don't want to get to the bed yet, because I want to know first. And bed plus hooker plus hotel room can be quite distracting.

"How old are you?" I ask again because if she's young, I'll show her the door. There is no need to bring a poor innocent soul into my twisted perversion.

She smirks and stays by what she said, "As I said, I'm 25. I just happen to have great genes and a fantastic skin that makes me look young. By the time I'll be fifty, I'll look thirty. A-ma-zing."

I look deep into her eyes, and though she still looks young, she looks honest.

"Why are you here?"

"Because you asked for a girlfriend."

"No … I mean, why are you doing this?"

"Why not?" She shrugs, clearly not bothered at all about selling her body. But she's not going to get away with this, I asked for her honesty, and if I have to dig it out of her, I will.

"I paid," I remind her, and she simply smiles with that innocent gleam, as if to say 'and I said what I meant'.

"Where is your father?" This ought to be interesting. But she just rolls her eyes, shaking her head,

"Not all hookers have daddy issues, you know. My father happens to be very much present in my life. We deeply love each other, and we appreciate our time together. We have what most people have, a healthy, strong and loving relationship."

"Then why are you doing this?" I muse. I am really trying to understand here, but this is a mystery to me. Surely, there are other ways to make money.

"Because I happen to like it."

"You like selling your body?" Who enjoys selling themselves? Does she have self-esteem issues? She clearly shouldn't, but that would explain why she's here.

Once again, she rolls her eyes. "Everyone sells their body. The chef sells it to cook, the waitress to serve, the pilot to fly, the hooker to … climax."

This makes me swallow. Now that I feel a bit more relaxed (since she's not underage, and she's apparently here for her own pleasure), I wonder. How is this night going to end? Is she going to bring me climax? Real climax, not just a quick release because the tension has been building up.

Miss Pink glances at my trousers, noting the soft erection there, and she slightly leans, showing me her generous cleavage as she bites her lower lip sensually and lets me know, "I just like sex."

"And a boyfriend can't satisfy?" I'm either stupid or chickening out. As she said, she's not here to talk. The whole point of her being here is to act out my crazy fantasy. But here I am, chatting with the girl like I'm on a date or something.

She shrugs and says something I'll never be able to argue against, "We live in a capitalistic world, Mr T. If you like doing something, you should find a way to make money out of it. What's the quote? 'If you're good at something, never do it for free.' Trust me, Mr T, I am good."

My eyes linger a second too long on her plump lips. I picture them around my member, smudging that pink lipstick on me as I would put her word to the test. I take a deep breath, "So, no one is forcing you?"

"Nope," She assured, popping the p in a sexual way. I'm pretty sure she knows she's arousing me. She waits for a minute, probably for me to make the next move, and when I just keep staring at her, she crosses her legs again, my eyes fluttering to see if she's as bold as Sharon Stone.

"What about you, Mr T? What is a handsome and successful young man such as yourself doing here, in my company? What is it you want that you don't dare ask your girlfriend?"

Her eyes are looking deep into my soul, and I look away. Because she is right, I can find any girl I want, I have actually turned down many girls, more now that I am no longer with Gia. I have my mother to thank for my good looks. And I wouldn't be in this hotel, asking for Miss Pink's services, if I didn't have money. She's not cheap.

Miss Pink doesn't seem bothered by my lack of civility. After all, I just questioned her, and completely ignored her simple question. The question that explains both of our presence here. She just goes on, showing that she's smarter than I thought. Or maybe I'm just prejudiced against hookers.

"You are obviously new at this, and you asked for a girlfriend experience. So it's not something that's in the BDSM … And it's not the gay thing, or I wouldn't be here and you wouldn't look at me this way. I don't think it's the boredom of marriage, because there are no rings …"

Well … she does notice things. She smirks at me and gets up, leaving her purse behind her. She catwalks to me, all the while unzipping her dress, and at each of her strides toward me, I get harder. Miss Pink definitely has a body on her. She's … hot.

I could see the hourglass in her dress, but now that she's in her underwear and stockings, it is even more obvious. She definitely works out, because I can see the thin line of her abs, and her lumps are just … Let's just say, Gia being a model has nothing on her.

She's only two steps away from me when a thought comes to her mind and she stops, as she reminds me, "You know I can say no, right?"

"I know," I say, my heart hammering my ribcage at the probability that she will. But I can't take my eyes off of her. She's … breathtaking. She smiles and drops to her knees, crawling the short distance between them as she insists,

"So just say it …"

I can't. I just can't. It's not how I was raised to talk to a woman. Just the idea of someone doing that to my sisters … sickens me. And yet, I want to do it to someone. Miss Pink, preferably.

"You're not into the scatophilia shit, aren't you? Because no one is pissing on anyone with me around. That's a big no for me."

"No," I assure her, repressing a shudder of disgust. I might be perverted, but not to that level.

She nods and bites her lip again, her eyes holding me in place. She definitely knows the effect she has on me. "Tell me, then. Tell me how I can take you where no one has ever taken you before."

Her hands go up and down my legs, and she pulls my knees apart so she can fit between my legs. And what a perfect fit she is. She looks so good, on her knees, between my legs and in her underwear. But I bet she knows that.

I am still silent, and she keeps trying to get me to say it. "Tell me, Mr T. Tell me so I can make you feel good. You know I will."

She rises a bit, still on her knees but her face is closer to my face rather than my crotch. Her hands are playing with my buckle as she rises to straddle me. I look at her, my heart still hammering like crazy. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should just send her home. Or have my way with her, but in the same way I did with Gia.

"You paid for my honesty, remember? If I don't like it, I'll tell you," She promises, but … why is it so hard to say it? It's not the end of the world. As she just said, some people are in worse shit. Literal shit.

She starts to grind around me, and my hands automatically go to her waist, not that I'm trying to stop her. "Tell me … Daddy?"

She's definitely testing the waters and trying to get it out of me. And I have to say, though I kind of like her begging, the daddy aspect doesn't appeal to me. It's not the kind of talk I'm interested in. But she's getting close.

She leans to nibble my earlobe, and she says the thing that sets me off, "Tell me how I can be a good little whore for you."

My breath catches in my throat as I tighten my grip on her hips. She leans back, looking at me triumphantly as she knows she finally got out of me what I want. And all I hope is that she's not going to run. Who wants to be called a whore?

"So this is what you want? You want me to talk dirty to you?"

I swallow with difficulty, "No. I want to do it."

I carefully watch her face, readying myself for her to call me a demented pervert, only pretending to be polite to fit well in society. Who gets off demeaning women, besides psychopaths? But she does nothing of the sort. She tries to contain a little smirk, and can't help but say,

"Look who's having mommy issues, now …"

I brusquely grab her by the neck of her wig, not too tight because I don't want to snatch it away, it's probably the way she separates the job and the rest of her life.

"I don't have mommy issues," I all but growl at her. "I just …"

I don't know how to explain it. I just want to call her names whilst I pound inside of her. That's the thing I've been holding from Gia, that's the main plot of my wet dreams. Giving a woman some good time, all the while calling her a slut for loving my cock so much. And most importantly, I want her to enjoy the thing as much as I do. What woman in her right mind would enjoy that?

Miss Pink doesn't seem to need an explanation, she smiles (no smirks this time) and she lets me know, "Just my kind of man."

I take in the information. Well, it seems that she's not in her right mind because the idea of me demeaning her turns her on. Or maybe she's just in her role. I doubt hookers actually say no unless it's a real hard limit for them. I mean, they still have bills to pay.

She resumes her grinding, her hands expertly undoing my buckle and buttons and she asks me, "What do you want, Mr T?"

I ignore the way Mr T makes me feel uncomfortable. It puts a distance that I don't like feeling when I'm about to fuck a girl. "I want to fuck you into oblivion and call you names doing it."

She bites her lip, and I swear, I'm going to have a taste of that lip at some point. Well … do hookers kiss? Or is it too intimate? We shall see.

"Then do. Make me see the fucking stars."

Oh … she has no idea. I have a year of sexual tension and a lifetime of sexual repression. Still, I take the time to lift her chin. In my fantasies, the ones I never dared admit to myself, I was fucking someone who liked me calling her a slut. It was half the thrill. And as she said, she's here to act out my fantasies.

So I look deep into her blue eyes. How can someone have eyes so blue? Like the Hawaiian ocean. "Remember, I paid for your honesty."

She's back at smirking at me, but I make myself clear, now that the cat is out of the bag, "If it's too … demeaning, if it's too much, you have to tell me, and I'll stop."

She rolls her eyes, and whispers to me to relax, her hand reaching for my cock. Well, if it wasn't hard then, it sure is now. I repress a groan of pleasure, her hand feeling like heaven on me. But I make my last point across, "Remember, you promised the truth. You can't fake either. Not that you'll need to."

She promises, and sinks back to her knees, taking my dick out of my boxers. She doesn't take it straight into her mouth and just plays with my nerves. Which isn't good. I have a whole year of no sexual activities. She shouldn't play with fire like that. She licks it, never doing what she should until I just tell her,

"Be a good girl and suck me off like we both know you want."

Her gaze is triumphant, but she does as told, and I hiss a loud yes, my hand going to her hair automatically. I try to hold it at first like I always did with Gia, but then, I remember that she's here for that. And more, she's into it.

Still, let's start off soft, just in case she backs off. Her head is bobbing up and down, and finally, I unleash a bit of the restraint I've put on myself for so long,

"Yeah … That's it. Just like that. Such a naughty girl, taking me in her mouth as if her life depends on it."

She moans around my cock, and takes me deeper, making me hit the back of her throat. My hand tighten in her hair and I start jerking my hips forward, loving that she can take me so deep without gagging uncontrollably.

"I could fuck your throat and you'd let me, wouldn't you? You love having my cock in your mouth. I bet you're wet for me. I bet your pussy wants as much attention as I'm giving your face. I bet you'd beg me to fuck you if you weren't so busy moaning all over my cock like the dirty little girl you are."

The more I talk, the more she moans and the more I love it. I have half a mind to just finish there. The way she swallows me, the way her tongue caresses the inner veins of my dick, the way she moans as I talk to her. It's just … perfect.

But then, she reaches between her legs, plunges two fingers into her pussy and shows me that, indeed, she is wet for me. I immediately yank her out of my cock and get up. Then I pull her to the bed and throw her there so she's laying on the mattress. I think about it for a second, but I decide to keep her as she is. Well … minus the panty. That won't be necessary.

She looks at me as I reach for a condom, waiting for me to tell her what we will do next, and I pause for a microsecond. I'd love nothing more than to return the courtesy. I might be a pervert, but I'm still a gentleman … of sorts. And I like going down on a girl. But … am I supposed to eat a hooker out?

Her eyes are still on me as I try to figure out this dilemma when her hand goes to her clit and she starts pleasuring herself in front of me. Yeah, to hell with the cuni, I need to be inside her, now.

I quickly roll on the latex, not bothering to undress, and just slightly pull down my trousers so they're not in the way. Basically, she looks exactly like a hooker, and I look exactly like those pervs who use them for a quickie. And I'll be honest, I don't think I'll last for long. But I paid for the night …

I yank her hand away from her pussy, pulling it above her head and I reach to replace what she was doing. And God!

"You're drenched. Dripping wet. Did sucking me off make you that wet?" I ask, playing with her clit, and she moans, nodding, her teeth deeply sunken in her lip.

"Did you like it? Did you like having my cock hit the back of your throat?" She nods again, her moan a bit louder. I'm going to make her scream bloody murder before the end of the night.

My cock is playing with the entrance of her pussy, but I'm still not there. I want her to say it. "Do you want my cock inside your cunt?"

She nods, and I pinch her clit a bit harder, making her scream the yes I want from her. Still, I stop. I know that this first round will be short. "Front or back?"

I've always had a fondness for doggy style. But I know some people aren't particularly fond of this position. Like Gia. Miss Pink blinks at me, seemingly slightly getting down from her high, "You told Mrs Lincoln no anal."

"No. I meant … you know, from behind."

Damn, I hope I didn't kill the mood. Though, she immediately smirks, and turns so she is on all four as she says, "Take me like that, take me like the slut I am."

Heaven! She said it herself, and now I've reached cloud nine. In one hard thrust, I'm inside her, making her yelp. "God, you're tight."

I wasn't expecting that... I thought that all hookers were sort of loose. But she's tight, so tight that it's fucking too good to be true. She's grinding against me and I slap her ass cheek, pounding in her as I grit,

"That's it. Take my cock like the slut you are." She moans, her hands fisted in her sheets and I yank her head up, biting her shoulder, hissing in her ear. "Such a good whore you are. You love that, don't you?"

"Yes," She breathes out, and I can feel her walls clamping me. She's about to come.

"Why? Why do you like my cock pounding your pussy so hard?" I taunt her, playing with her clit whilst thrusting in her and nibbling her earlobe. I can feel her walls somersaulting around my cock, taking me with her. I really didn't last long. But she still tells me the thing that sends me over the edge,

"Because I'm a dirty little slut. Such a dirty slut."

She screams as her orgasm rips through her, and I grunt just as loud, pumping a few more times before falling on top of her. For the first time in my life, this wasn't just release. This was bliss. This was a real orgasm, not just ejaculating. This was … the best experience of my life.

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

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💚 E L James owns the names of the characters from the Fifty Shades franchise, Everything else is mine (including the mistakes and grammar errors).

Love, Mina 💚💚💚