His hands go to my wrists, and he pins them above my head. Fierce lust in his hazel eyes, Asher gazes at me. I start to burn from the inside out. Another tremor of pleasure hits me hard, runs up my spine, and has me arching into him.
“Fuck,” Asher grunts as he plows deeply into me once more. As he starts to come, I watch the veins stand out at his temples and his eyes flash with relief as he pours himself into the condom with a massive, heaving shudder of his body.
Staying stiff for a moment, he finally relaxes and slumps against me. It’s for long enough that I can bring my hand to his head and run my fingertips through his sweaty hair. I almost have time to open my mouth to tell him how amazing that was before he’s rolling off me.
Asher stands, grabs my discarded dress, and drops it on my legs.
“It’s getting late,” he says as he peels the condom off and tosses it in a nearby trash can.
Nabbing his pants from the floor, he reaches into a pocket and pulls out a piece of folded paper. He hands it to me. Numbly, I take it while holding my dress over my lap.
I thumb the paper open, knowing exactly what it is.
A check made payable to me for five thousand dollars.
CHAPTER 5
Asher
After having been gone on a business trip the last three days and having just disembarked the redeye from Los Angeles to Vegas, I really should be heading home for a good night’s sleep.
Instead, I leave the airport, turning not toward my downtown luxury apartment but rather to a local bar called Joe’s. My assistant easily obtained Hannah’s second place of employment along with the address, which I put into my navigation system. It’s in an area of town that’s not quite used to seeing a three hundred-thousand-dollar sports car, and I worry slightly it might get boosted. I hope the car alarm is enough to dissuade some would-be criminal, but it’s hard to tell.
It’s not a worry that’s big enough to thwart me, so I park in a darkened lot across the street. Besides, it’s why I have insurance.
When I open the bar door, I’m hit with a wave of smoke and realize I must be obsessed with Hannah. Why else would I come to this stinking pit when I could easily just call her?
When I spy her behind the bar, pulling a mug of draft beer, my body tightens with need. It’s all it takes to have my answer.
I simply want her again, and I want her more than my common sense should allow.
Music from a jukebox blares, forcing the patrons to scream to converse, and the air is hazy with smoke. I grimace as I wind my way through a light crowd of early drinkers—it’s only about nine—and make my way up to the bar.
Hannah doesn’t see me. Once she serves the draft beer to a customer, she turns and asks the next person what they’re drinking. There’s another female bartender working at the other end, slinging drinks as fast as Hannah.
It’s busy and decidedly not glorious work. Hannah is tipped a pittance for her efforts, but I can tell she tries to make it up in serving volume, efficiently moving from customer to customer.
When she finally glances my way, there’s a curt smile on her face that she has in place for everyone. Her mouth parts to ask what I’m drinking before she fully gawks at me in shock.
“Hello, Hannah,” I say in a voice loud enough to rise above the din as I tap my finger against the scarred wooden bar top.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, equally as loud as she positions herself directly across the bar from me.
I jerk my head toward the door. “Can you take a break?”
Hannah stares at me a moment, clearly undecided. Here she stands in a dirty, smoke filled bar, looking amazing in a tight tank top with tattered daisy duke shorts, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to a woman before.
She holds a finger up to me to say she needs a moment, then walks to the other end of the bar. Her head inclines toward the other bartenders. They exchange words, then Hannah is headed my way. Pushing away from the bar, I walk to the end to meet her at the pass-through. After she exits, I escort her to the door that leads out, my hand on her lower back. It’s completely reminiscent of the way I escorted her through the Wicked Horse five days ago.
When I had what was the absolute best sex of my life.
Which sort of blows my mind and freaks me out at the same time. It was nothing over the top. Totally vanilla—outside of the fact we were in a sex club—but Jesus… how many women have I fucked missionary style in my life?
Too many to remember… and so many occasions that were forgettable.
But Hannah has opened something inside of me that I didn’t even know existed. While it scares the fuck out of me, it’s too intriguing for me to ignore it.
I push the door open. My chest brushing against Hannah’s shoulder shoots a ripple of pleasurable awareness through me. She continues, and I wonder if she’s as affected by that touch as I am.
I follow her to the corner of the building, far enough away from the door that we can have some privacy from customers going in and out.
She turns, faces me, and pushes her hands down into the pockets of her jean shorts. Tilting her head quizzically, she asks, “What’s up?”
She doesn’t say, God, I missed you.
Will you take me back to the Wicked Horse?
Thank you for the best sex of my life, Asher.
Fuck, I need to quit thinking those thoughts. I absolutely do not want Hannah beholden to me in any way, and that includes having an insatiable need for sex from me. Because I’m afraid I’d be too weak to resist that temptation.
Okay, that’s a lie. I would not say no to that, which is proven by the fact I’m standing here in front of her.
While I’d rather just kiss the fuck out of her, possibly pull her to the side of the building and fuck her up against the wall because I’m insanely turned on being in her presence right now, I decide to play it cool. “I want another night with you.”
Just as I expected might happen, her cheeks glow pink with embarrassment, which turns me on even more. Her expression turns bewildered. “Why?”
“Because I enjoyed fucking you, Hannah,” I reply matter-of-factly. This is, after all, really a business deal. “And I think you enjoyed it, too. So I’d like you to be my companion—”
“Your companion?” she exclaims with a mirthless laugh. “What does that even mean?”
“I want you to be available to accompany me to the Wicked Horse on certain nights of my choosing,” I tell her.
Hannah just stares at me, her eyes turning blank for a moment before she bursts into laughter. “Your sex companion? Tell me you’re joking.”
I lean into her and murmur, “I never joke about sex. And I’d pay you well to accompany me there.”
She blinks, and there’s an iciness in her tone that wasn’t there before. “You want me to be your full-time whore?”
Through my locked jaw, I grit out, “I never used that word, nor would I ever. But if it eases your conscience, you are free to tell me ‘no’ at any time we are inside that club. It will totally be your choice.”
Hannah crosses her arms under her breasts, which pushes them up against the low cut of her tank top. I refuse to let my gaze drop there.
“Let me get this straight,” she says with a hefty dose of suspicion. “You want me to go with you to a sex club in the evenings, for which you will pay me money. And if I don’t want to have sex with you, I don’t have to.”