Broken Girl(18)

His tongue wets his nice full lips before he takes an exaggerated swallow. “I’m looking for someone that can help me find my way around this beautiful town.”

I smile, shifting my hips, causing my tits to bounce, his eyes pause on my chest. “Well, I’m pretty versed in the points of interest in this town. Seeing that you are new and all, I can even hook you up with a discount on entertainment.”

“I guess we should talk about how much you think this entertainment might set me back?”

I see the desire in his eyes, the animalistic draw he has to my skin. The attraction isn’t a problem and seeing we both want the same thing I figure upping my regular fee isn’t gonna break his bank. Either he’ll go for it or haggle me down a couple bucks. One thing I know for sure, I ain’t gonna let him get away. Guys like this are rare and don’t just show up looking for a good time. I drag my hands across the edge of the door tracing the rubber window seal before I step back and make sure he sees everything I have to offer.

“Entertainment around here is two hundred fifty bones every half hour.”

He reaches over and pushes the passenger’s door open.

“Okay, Miss . . . ?”

“Rose,” I say as I drop into his Maserati.

“Rose, beautiful, Miss Rose that sounds perfect. I’m going to really enjoy getting to know this town,” he growls as he runs his lengthy fingers across my knee and up to the edge of my daisy dukes. Goose bumps rise on the back of my neck.

“So, Mister, where would you like me to take you?” I ask as I pull the five-point-harness across my chest.

“My sweet Rose, I know exactly where I’m going to take you,” he says as he speeds away from the curb.

My heart flips and falls into my stomach. My body presses into the seat. I’m not scared, even if I’m supposed to be. There is something tranquil and safe about him, it feels as if he’s one of my regular dates.

“Exactly where am I gonna entertain you?” I question, leaning close to him. I drop my hand against his black suit pants and stretch my fingers across his inner thigh, only close enough to brush across the tension in the huge bulging seam of his zipper.

“In my hotel room.”

“Oh, really? What entertainment are you thinking about in your hotel room?” I tease. I know what he wants, we’re adults and nobody of his stature hangs out on hooker alley for directions.

He looks over at me, his eyes narrow; his golden skin radiates his intention far beyond any words that pour from between his lips. If expressions can tell stories, I can only imagine the tale they’ll tell me. Would it include kinky shit, or is he going to be my missionary man?

“Well, that’s up for negotiation. How about we just get there?”

I watch him as he pulls the steering wheel and tugs on the stick shift. I keep my hand on his thigh and feel his muscles flex and relax as he drives me to the hotel where he’s staying.

He pulls into the Shelby Heights Hotel. Only people who have a shit load of money or families bred to be key players in royalty stay here. This guy isn’t f*cking around. He must dangle from the purse strings of royalty or suck the tit of his family’s old money. Either way, I’m kicking myself that I didn’t pin him for a clear grand per half hour for my entertaining him.

The valet, dressed in what looked like a jester suit pulls on my door, and holds out his ghostly hand.

“Ma’am, may I help you out of your vehicle?”

The only thought thundering in my head as I’m looking around is that Mr. Loaded and I are gonna f*ck in style.

“Sure,” I answer, giving him my hand.

Gleaming white marble bleeds thin gray veins that scatter through the columns on either side of the rotating glass and gold front door. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that my ass would ever walk through these doors. Mr. Loaded’s arm slips across my lower back, his lips close to my ear, his words dance across my hair as he whispers, “I already like your town.”

Shivers jet down my spine. A reaction I want but am afraid to acknowledge. He tosses his keys to the court jester valet and firmly pushes me forward keeping me in his grasp, and just far enough in front of him.

“Mr. C.” The jester dips his head.

He nods.

Mental note taken, at least Mister Loaded has a semi-name or at least an initial.

We push through the circular door, spitting us inside one of the most prestigious hotels on the West Coast. I’m pretty sure this will be the first and only time I’ll be standing in the lobby of the Shelby. My eyes wide, my mouth agape, I’m taken and yet intimidated as all get out at the same time. A mix of excitement as well as shame churns in my gut, I know I don’t belong here. I’m comparable to the beggar’s daughter who keeps praying Cinderella is even a possibility. Maybe, somewhere in this world I’ll find my moment to take what has been handed to me. Maybe the glass slipper will for once fit my foot.

An older hefty bald man came buzzing over to us. His black double-breasted suit perfectly pressed, with a perfect amount of his white cuff showing at his wrists. I notice his shoes are shiny enough to blind you on a bright day just like the cue ball shine off his head.

“Good evening, Mr. C. Nice to see you back again. We’ve put you in the room you requested. Thank you again for choosing the Shelby Heights Hotel.”

“I don’t want to be disturbed. I’ll call down if I need anything,” Mr. C says to the short balding man.