“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he grumbles. “Two can play that game.”
And that’s how we end up fucking each other into oblivion. With both of us desperately trying to make the other come, it takes no time at all before he’s thumbing my clit as he fucks up into me, and I’m riding for broke as I feel my orgasm bearing down. The moment it explodes into a blissful firework of pleasure, Nico groans below me, his hips stuttering in their movements.
My last thought before I collapse on Nico’s chest, out of breath, and more sated than I’ve ever felt, is:He justhadto be good at sex.
ELEVEN
SCARLETT
“So, Daisy, what are you in school for?”
I force a smile at my client’s boss across the table. “Hospitality,” I lie, deciding on a major that doesn’t usually get a lot of follow-up questions.
He smirks, giving me a judgmental once-over. “And what do you plan on doing with a hospitality degree? Party planning?”
I keep the smile plastered on my face. “Maybe. I haven’t really decided yet.”
I weather the look he gives me, a look that’s equal parts lecherous and condescending. He might not know I’m an escort, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have sex in his eyes. Even with my “boyfriend” sitting next to me.
I glance at my client, a forty-five-year-old balding businessman who’s trying to climb the corporate ladder by showing off his hot girlfriend to his shallow boss. In a way, he’s one of my best clients, solely because I don’t have to touch him, but I do wish he’d man up just a little bit and at least look ashamed that his boss is a leering jerk.
He doesn’t look ashamed. He’s excited to have something his boss wants.
“Daisy throws great parties,” my client says. And the undertone is obvious when he adds, “She really knows how to have a fun time.”
The sound of their chuckles makes my skin crawl. You’d think I’d be used to men talking about me like this, but the truth is, you never get used to it. You simply get better at dealing with it.
I double check my smile before placing a hand on my client’s arm. “I can’t take all the credit. It’s almost impossiblenotto have a good time with Mark.”
Delight flashes in his eyes. And I can tell that the moment we leave this restaurant, he’s going to ask me if he can extend our booking with a visit to the hotel next door.
Waiting for that moment makes the rest of the lunch tense. I have to be diligent about the attention I send him after that, because even though I need to sell my role well forthisjob, I also need to be careful that my inevitable rejection doesn’t offend him. Bitter clients are the most dangerous clients.
I’m so focused onmyclient that I forget to worry about his boss. But the moment Mark excuses himself to the bathroom, my spine stiffens.
“So, Daisy,” he says, brushing a single finger over the back of my hand. “Is this thing with you and Mark…serious?”
I glance pointedly at the wedding ring on his finger and smile anyway.
“A girl can only hope,” I simper.
Something calculating flashes in his eyes that puts me on higher alert than I already am. “You know, I could’ve sworn I heard Mark asking one of our interns out on a date last week,” he says with faux innocence. “It can’t be that serious if he’s seeing other people, can it?”
I study him for a moment, wondering if all men are this obvious or if my job has just made me smarter. Because he’slying. Mark could barely stutter his way through asking for a date he waspayingfor, so there’s no way he’s hitting on women at the workplace that triples his insecurity every day. Which means his boss is trying to sabotage his direct report in order to create an opening with me for himself.
I wave him off. “Oh, I’m sure he was just trying to help her with work. Mark and I agreed to be exclusive.”
The boss gives me a pitying look, then shakes his head as he leans back in his chair.Fine by me. I’ll take pity over creepy.
“I hope for your sake that you’re right. But if he everdoesturn out to be…not the man you expected...” That perverse smile curls his lips once again. “I’m always happy to be a listening ear.”
I’m saved from having to come up with an answer—that isn’t vomiting all over his shoes—because Mark reappears beside our table.
“You two doing okay?” he asks with an uneasy glance between us.
I smile and reach for his hand. “We’re great. Just chatting. You ready to go?”
Mark nods and shifts his attention back to his boss, though that tension doesn’t dissipate. It seems Mark isn’t as clueless as he appears. “Thanks again for lunch. I’m going to walk Daisy out and then I’ll meet you back at the office?”
