Broken Girl(19)

“Absolutely, sir. Anything else we could do to make your stay with us pleasant?”

“Yes, this is Rose. She wants anything, you get it for her.”

“Yes, sir, done,” he says as he hands Mr. C a room key.

Holy shit, f*ck, who is this Mr. C guy? What has he done to gain so much power? What is his story?

My heart thumps in my chest, whatever simple belief I have about Mr. C just being wealthy, is destroyed beyond any idea of his material power. He demands the respect from the staff of the exclusive Shelby Heights Hotel and they do it willingly, without question.

“All right, beautiful, right this way,” he breathes. His hand is anchored against my lower spine, guiding me to the elevator. There are two doors, both gleamed print-less gold, shine so pure I can actually see myself in the door before it pushes open. An elevator operator, dressed almost identical to the valet in his jester outfit greets us with a peachy smile, filled with enough sweetness I’m sure the guy must have practiced his speech in a mirror.

“Good evening, Mr. C. Nice to see you again, sir.”

Mr. C nods in response.

I watch as the elevator jester pushes his key into the lock next to the letter P. The music barely above a whisper becomes louder as I see myself on the closing gold doors. I turn and look out the back of the elevator, three glass walls overlooking a huge pond with tropical plants and brightly colored birds flying in the mist.

Mr. C’s hands slip around my hips as he presses his cock against my ass. He drops his mouth against the side of my head; his words cling to my hair before slipping into the curve of my ear.

“Are you ready to entertain me?” His words drain straight to between my legs, as he thrusts himself against my ass.

“Depends on the package you decide to blow your wad on. What’s your budget?” I purr as I sway my ass back against him. He catches his breath, and hums across my cheek. He smells so good, his breath, warm and inviting, I want to feel him exhale against the folds between my legs. Sure, this is business, but who says I can’t enjoy the benefits of a date who seems to know how to please a woman.

“We already agreed on two hundred and fifty dollars every half hour. When did you start the clock?” he asks quietly before thrusting again.

I push back.

“The minute I sat in your car,” I whisper.

He chuckles against my cheek, his lips pushing, tasting my flesh.

“All right, Mr. C, here we are, the penthouse suite.” The elevator jester stands against the doors that disappear into the wall.

Mr. C reaches into his pocket and gives the guy a healthy stack of cash and whispers something in his ear. The man nods before he disappears behind the closing doors.

When we get up to the common area of the penthouse, there’s a gigantic black and gray speckled rock table and a huge bouquet of flowers that takes up the entire center of it. White lilies and orchids with green leaves throughout the vase.

“Should we discuss terms of this entertainment first?” I ask, leaning against the stone table.

He drags my hair away from my neck, and pushes his lips against my collarbone.

“Absolutely,” he hums against my skin.

“Well, then, before I show you some entertainment, maybe you can show me your sizable deposit for your amusement,” I say struggling to focus on business. But that’s exactly what this is. I’m killing the mood, but I don’t want to be evicted from my shitty apartment at the end of the week.

His eyes narrow, almost irritated as he pulls back from me.

“So, no entertainment until I pay a deposit?”

“Yeah, you’re already into this night five hundred bucks and you haven’t even seen me naked yet.”

“All right, fine, since you are so wrapped up in the idea that I need to give you a sizable deposit, why don’t you tell me what you want for, let’s say, the entire night?”

“The entire night?”

“Yeah, let’s say five hours of the night? What are your fees?”

“Twelve hundred bucks,” I say without flinching.

“What if I wanted you for let’s say . . . two days, how much will it cost for you to entertain me?” he asks, his eyes wide, his jaw clenches.

“Four grand and that’s a bargain.” Again, I say this without flinching.

He laughs out loud. “You are pulling numbers out of the air, you know that, beautiful Rose? Okay, so how about I pull a number out of the air. How about I give you six thousand dollars to entertain me as long as I am in town? Is that fair?” His steely blue eyes twinkle; a contented expression spreads across his face and he waits for my quick response this time.

“Well, Mr. C, that depends on how long you’re in town,” I counter.

He pulls me close, the edge of his nose traces across my cheek, his lips close to my ear, he pulls and pins my arms behind my back. “Don’t ever call me that,” he demands. The heat of his breath tumbles down my neck.

I gasp, my heart thunders in my chest. “What should I call you then? I don’t even know your name.” The muscles in my shoulders pull with an ache. I whimper as he tightens his grip. The small injured girl deep within me climbs into the closet, curls up into a ball and tries to protect herself; but the woman I am, the one I became, the one who sells her body for money and grabs life by the balls finds this wickedly sexy. Something about him, the richness he has, the respect he commands, pulls at my gut. Soaking, I don’t care what he wants me to call him I just need him to f*ck me.