“I can’t tomorrow night,” I say. “I have to work. But I could probably get a night off next week.”
“Tomorrow night,” he merely says, and it makes me roll my eyes in frustration.
“I have a job. Responsibilities. I can’t just—”
“Five thousand dollars,” he says, and the words cut sharp across my tirade, making me go mute.
My voice is raspy. “Pardon?”
“Five thousand dollars,” he repeats. “I’m sure that will compensate for the tips you’ll miss out on tomorrow night. Call in sick. I’m sure it’s not a big deal.”
Five thousand dollars?
Does he know what a figure like that could do for me? It wouldn’t go toward my car, my brothers, or even food for myself.
No, it would let me retain an attorney to fight for custody for Hope.
I don’t even have to consider. “I’ll be at your place at ten.”
His laugh is low and husky, causing a shiver to run up my spine. “Can’t wait,” he murmurs before disconnecting the call.
CHAPTER 3
Asher
I can’t figure out if she’s putting on an act, but Hannah isn’t behaving like I expected her to. I figured she’d be pretty pissed I backed her into this corner, so I was prepared to deal with a sour attitude. Instead, from the moment she showed up at my door wearing jeans, a threadbare t-shirt, and perfume that smelled like cinnamon spice, she has displayed nothing but a cavalier attitude about going to a sex club with a stranger.
It tells me she has backbone, which makes her even sexier because I’ll enjoy making her bend to me.
I shift into third gear, the engine of my McLaren 720S whining to be let loose, but that’s not going to happen driving the downtown streets of Vegas. The skirt to the miniscule red dress I’d picked out for Hannah rides high on her legs, but she hasn’t tried to tug it down once. My gaze has wandered there a time or two, and Hannah knows it.
There’s not an ounce of nervousness I’ve detected so far. The only thing she’s shown me since we left my apartment was brash curiosity. “What kind of man forgives a seventy-five-K debt and throws an extra five thousand cash on top for one night with a woman?”
“A rich one, I expect,” I reply without taking my eyes off the road. “Although I assure you, this is the first time I’ve ever made such an offer.”
“I’m so lucky,” she mutters dryly. “Why me? What’s so special about me?”
Not sure if she’s looking for flattery, but I’m not that great at giving it with a measure of restraint. Sure… I could growl in her ear that I love how tight her cunt is, but softer stuff isn’t my thing.
So I merely shrug. “It doesn’t have anything to do with special. I just like to indulge whims.”
She’s not offended. “Makes sense.”
“I would hope so.” My tone is bland. “I work hard for my money, so I enjoy the fuck out it.”
Hannah drums her fingers on the top of her bare thigh, drawing my attention to that pale skin. I want to bruise it with my teeth, and I hope to fuck she returns the favor.
“What exactly do you do for a living?” she inquires sweetly.
My eyes cut back to the road. “Land development.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I buy up chunks of property and create shopping centers, subdivisions, or retail office space.”
“Interesting,” she murmurs, but I doubt she believes it since she doesn’t ask anything more about what I do.
But I’m curious about this woman who would accept my offer of a night of sex with a stranger to forgive a huge debt. “So you’re a maid and a bartender, but you said you worked three jobs. What’s your other?”
“Online customer service support for a phone company,” she says with absolutely no enthusiasm. And why would she? Her jobs are awful. “I pick up shifts when I have time here and there.”
“What’s your last name?” I ask, wincing with disappointment in myself that I’d even waste breath on such an inconsequential detail.
“Madigan,” she says, turning to look out the window as I pull in front of The Onyx casino.
“We’re going gambling?” she asks as a valet rushes to open her door.
“The Wicked Horse is on the top floor.” Another valet opens my door. I pull a twenty out of my wallet as a tip before handing the keys to him.
“Thank you, Mr. Knight,” the kid says appreciatively.
After I give him a nod, I round the front of my car to meet Hannah on the sidewalk. She looks amazing with bare shoulders, sleek legs, and her mahogany locks spilling down her back. I’m going to fist the fuck out of it tonight.
Men’s heads turn because it’s hard not to notice a woman like her, and my gut burns with anger that they are eyeballing her. Pushing it down, I offer her my arm.
She takes it without thought, walking beside me into the lobby of the casino. Turning toward a private elevator with the neon Wicked Horse logo sign above it, I steer my date that way.
When we’re inside ascending to the top floor, Hannah asks, “So, what exactly is a sex club? I mean… you can have sex with me at your apartment. What’s so great about this place?”
“It’s better if you just see for yourself, but the short answer has a lot to do with adding the excitement of fucking in front of others. You’re not shy… are you, Hannah?”
She shrugs, and her tone is blasé. “No one will know me here.”
Chuckling, I put my hand over the one of hers tucked into the crook of my arm. “That’s the spirit.”
I’m rewarded with a sly smile as the elevator doors open.
The Wicked Horse Vegas is modeled after the original, which opened in Wyoming inside a large silo. The owner, Bridger Payne, wanted a place for people to be able to let loose on their sexual inhibitions without fear of judgment or reprisal. The members of this club are kinky, sensual, and adventurous. Fucking in front of others is only half the fun, but it’s the best part in my opinion.
The hostess at the podium greets me with a smile. “Good evening, Mr. Knight.”
I smile back and lead Hannah around her, noticing the surprised reactions I get from some of the regulars. They’ve never seen me come in with a woman on my arm because it’s just not something I do. Instead, I meet women here, fuck them, and then leave alone.
I usher Hannah over to a long bar in what is known as the Social Room. It’s a place to meet and mingle. Perhaps have a cocktail or two if someone needs to loosen up. I don’t know if Hannah needs that or not, but I’m not in a rush.
“What would you like to drink?” I ask as we step up to an empty spot. There are no stools. That way, it encourages people to move around and meet others.
“White wine,” she says. “Any type. I’m not picky or savvy enough to tell good from bad.”
I would imagine a woman who has to work three menial jobs wouldn’t know much about the fine distinction amongst wines, but I never cared much for that stuff anyway. I’m a bourbon man myself.
I order drinks while Hannah casually takes in the scene around her. Leaning an arm on top of the bar, I cross one ankle over the other and study her without shame of getting caught ogling.