Another knock goes ignored as the pulses simmer through my shaft, running up my spine.
It’s so fucking good. That eager mouth. Soft lips. Hungry tongue. Those thirsty little noises she’s making.
“Yo, Deuce!”
Slade’s voice yanks me from the moment as he comes barging right into my place. I look down as Lauralyn quickly pulls off, wiping her mouth before she stands. I tuck myself away, tugging my zipper back in place.
“Good job, princess.” I run my thumb over her swollen bottom lip. I’m gonna need that mouth again later. It’s too fucking good. “Now, it’s time to get you some clothes for the weekend.”
And it’s time for me to get down to business.
10
Lauralyn
Icheck my reflection one last time, feeling uncomfortable in the outfit Sorrin picked out for me. It’s something Portia would wear. All the clothes Sorrin brought for the weekend are more risqué than I’d like. But Holt is paying me a hefty amount to obey, so leopard print it is.
“Are you ready?” Holt comes walking into the room, stopping dead in his tracks. The look on his face is making me feel less self-conscious about my dress. “Damn, you look fine as hell. Shit, Laur, gonna have to beat them off you tonight.” He loosens his collar.
He doesn’t look too bad himself. He’s dressed in a black button-down shirt and black slacks. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing his ink. It’s a far cry from the boy I knew back in school. The man before me, living in this luxurious penthouse, has earned himself a place in this world. Funny how life works. I’m now the one who’s broke and living in squalor.
“Yes, I’m ready. You look good too.”
He shakes his head. “Come on. We need to go before I pin you up against that wall again.”
A wave of tingles runs through my system. I wouldn’t be opposed to him touching me again. Or getting on my knees again. I liked making out with him. I wasn’t even doing it for the money. I wanted to.
We step onto the elevator, and that heat closes in again. There’s something about elevators. The confined space. The tension that clings in the air as the shaft moves from floor to floor. Never knowing if the doors are going to open and someone is going to get on. There’s a crackling against my nerves as I stare at the lights, watching the numbers descend. Holt breathing heavy at my back.
“If we weren’t late for dinner, I’d be fucking you up against the wall.”
Another shiver rocks through right as the doors open.
He presses his hand at my back, urging me off because apparently my feet are struggling to move. “Come on, princess. Time to go play your part.”
The lights and sounds come from every angle. It’s an overload to the senses. Or maybe that’s just Holt.
“Sorry, we’re late,” he says as we enter the bar.
“No problem, man. We just ordered a drink; can I get you something?”
Slade looks to me and I shake my head, and Portia’s lustful stare finally leaves Holt and she’s now glaring at me.
“Why? Is the princess too high and mighty for a little alcohol?”
Her rudeness never falters, does it?
“If you find your mother passed out drunk in a running bathtub, nearly seconds away from drowning, you might not want to drink either.”
Holt tenses at my back. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but I’m done with her making assumptions about me. Hey, at least it shut her up.
“None of that this weekend,” Holt tells Portia, his hold on my waist tightening. “I don’t want you acting like a bitch in front of my client.”
I don’t know who’s more stunned by his comment, her or me. The guy who hates me just stood up for me.
“That wasn’t my intent.” Portia puts on an innocent act. “I’m sorry.”
“Sure, it wasn’t.” His voice is tight. “Come on. Let’s go eat and discuss the expectations for the weekend.”
