Page 8 of Doxed

Carlos grabs his suit jacket from my chair and slides his arms into it. Smiling, he takes the wad of cash out and sets it on the foot of the bed.

“Goodnight, Hermosa,” he says before he opens my door and leaves, closing it behind him.

We stayed in my room and talked again tonight.

He told me about his childhood, which looked a lot different from mine since he’s about twenty years older and grew up in a different country.

I told him about mine. He was very intrigued with the foster care system, and that my father went to prison, I didn't have any family.

He speaks highly of his mother, and though his father was tough on him, he loved him.

Carlos seems like a good father. I can imagine his confusion with my childhood.

There wasn't pity in his eyes, though, which I appreciated.

I’m collecting my duffle bag when a knock comes on my door.

Opening it, expecting to see Carlos again, I'm a little let down to see a security guard. I’ve come to really enjoy Carlos’ company.

“B, Hector is asking for you,” he says. Standing tall in the hallway, his bulk taking up my entire doorway.

I look down at myself in my cropped tank top and lounge shorts. I can’t walk through the club like this when it’s full. “I’ll change and come down,” I tell the guard.

He nods and leaves without another word.

Sighing, I turn around and pull the hot pink lingerie set I packed for tonight out of my bag and undress.

It’s a simple hot pink lace bra, with a matching thong with thin straps over my hips, a thick garter, and nude stockings with a matching pink lace band at the top.

I swipe on some pink lipstick so I look more put together and leave my room.

It’s a lot of effort just to walk through the lobby to Hector’s office, but there are clients here, and my appearance is my livelihood.

I knock on the door to Hector’s office and wait for him to call me in.

Stepping into his office, my eyes automatically go to his big window that overlooks the front of the property.

The water surrounding the small island. It’s pretty.

Hector stands from his large desk and comes around to stand on the other side.

I approach him and stand between the two chairs for guests.

Hector perches against his desk. His light gray suit fits him perfectly.

The black silk shirt underneath unbuttoned partially and showing a bit of his tanned chest. He smells expensive, but like he’s trying too hard.

Not like Carlos. Carlos doesn't have to try, he just is.

Powerful, rich, handsome. Hector is similar, but just…

lacking something. His presence, I guess.

“Mr. Vicario asked me to give this to you.” He grabs a matte black envelope from his desk and offers it to me.

“Why didn’t he give it to me?” I ask, taking it from him and turning it over. In beautiful, glittering gold calligraphy is my name.

Hector shrugs one shoulder. “One of his men brought it in shortly after he left. It must’ve slipped his mind.”

“What is it?” I look at Hector out of the top of my vision, my head still bent, admiring the beautiful script.

“I have no clue.” He smiles and stands, making his way to the other side of his desk.

Taking that as his dismissal, I turn on my heel and open the envelope as I leave Hector’s office.

Inside is a matching black, thick piece of paper with a different gold writing. This one is more manly, but still neat. Carlos invited me to dinner… in California. He gives me an address to meet him at, on the day of the dinner.

“By Your Side” by Marissa picks up in the club. People pass me by. The club is busy tonight.

“Oh, my God! ” a voice whispers.

“He’s so hot!” another replies.

“You can’t even see his face,” someone else says with confusion laced in her tone.

I look up at the small group of girls standing at the entrance to the main lounge.

Curiosity gets to me, so I make my way over to them.

When I reach them, I follow their gaze to someone standing at the bar, his back to it, and he’s looking around the room.

He’s wearing black pants, like the new tech wear style, a black hoodie with his hood pulled up, and a shiny silver skeleton mask under it.

Masks aren't unusual around here, but his attire is.

Everyone drips money in here, and the men all wear suits.

His gaze passes over us and then snaps back and he cocks his head, watching us.

“B, he’s looking at you!” Serena gasps.

The man in the mask raises his hand and slowly motions me over with two fingers. Something about it is so sensual that my feet carry me to him before my brain has even processed what’s happening.

I come to a stop next to him at the bar, and he lowers his head to look at me, my reflection staring back at me from his mask. He’s so tall. And he smells like the woods. Like pine and rain, and I want to grab a blanket and curl into him and fall asleep.

“What can I do for you, sir?” I lean into him. I can't help it. His scent is intoxicating. Relaxing.

“Don’t call me sir, for starters.” The only way I can explain his voice is lustful. It’s sexy, not deep, but just right. With a beautiful timber to it.

“What should I call you, then?” I ask, my voice turning to a purr as I melt in front of him. Jesus, what is wrong with me? This man’s voice is turning me on more than anything I can remember.

He looks to the side briefly before turning to me again. “Dox.”

“Okay.” I smile, reaching for his hand. “Are you new here, Dox?” I take his hand from his side and rest it on my hip.

A red rose takes up the back of his hand, and I’m liking this man more with every passing second.

His smell, the way he dresses despite the strict dress code here, his tattoo, his voice. God, his voice.

“I am. Are you gonna show me what this place is about?” His hand slides from my hip to my waist. His warmth seeps into my body and makes my stomach flutter.

Smirking, I step into him, though my head only reaches his chest. I lean my head back and press my body to his. I can feel his hard body against mine and I'm excited about what I have planned for him now. “I’d love to.”

We walk through the club in silence as I pull him behind me. In the elevator, I gently guide him to the back of the car and press against him, standing on my toes to reach his neck. I'm still too short, so I pull him down to me with my hands around his neck.

“What are you looking for tonight?” I ask against his neck, kissing and licking as the elevator carries us up.

“You,” he answers, his throat vibrating against my lips.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. I turn away from him and pull him out, guiding him to my room.

Normally, I play this a lot differently. I let the client tell me what they want, go where they’re comfortable, because this is for them. But this? Tonight with Dox? This is for me just as much as him. How sad is it I can't even remember the last time I had sex for me?

I open the door to my room and Dox follows me in.

I shut the door behind us and turn around, grabbing his hips and pushing him toward the chair in the room’s corner.

He allows me to maneuver him, his silver mask taunting me as I look into it.

His knees hit the chair, and he falls into it, with me following him down.

I straddle his hips, my hands landing on his shoulders as I look down at him.

“Would you like to remove your mask so I can kiss you?” I ask, running my fingers over the soft material of his hoodie.

Dox’s hands slide up my thighs, around my hips, and then under my garter.

He yanks me forward, my breasts pushing into his cold mask, and I suck in a gasp.

“I’d rather you kiss something else,” he speaks into my chest.

I nod, and he releases me. Usually, clients take their masks off when they enter a private room.

Everyone who enters signs an NDA, but the clients here are sometimes colleagues, business rivals, family members, or maybe board members.

I’ve never had someone want to keep the mask on in a private space, and I'm quite intrigued.

I slowly slide off of him and to my knees on the floor. We both reach for his belt, but he drags his hands away and rests them at his side. I remove his belt and undo his dark pants, and he lifts his hips for me to pull them down along with his soft black boxers.

He’s already hard, and I smirk at his size. He’s perfect. Long and just wide enough. A glint of silver catches the light, the round balls of a piercing just under the head of his cock on the underside of his shaft. I lick my lips in anticipation. That's going to be fun.

Wrapping my hand around his thick cock, I stroke him slowly, brushing my thumb over the piercing and Dox sucks in a breath at the contact.

I rise to my feet so my face can hover above him.

Lowering my mouth to his head, I take it in my mouth and suck softly.

Slowly, I take him a little deeper and I flick my tongue over the piercing.

Dox groans obscenely and I feel my panties become drenched at the sound.

By the time I've made it all the way to the base, his chest is rising quickly and his hands grip the armrests tightly.

I start it all over again, pulling completely away and then going to his head again. I wrap my hand around him again at his base and I work him in time with my mouth, twisting my hand on the upstroke and pressing my tongue against the piercing.

Dox lays his head on the back of the chair, releasing another panty melting groan, and I catch another tattoo on the center of his throat: a death moth. I release his cock from my mouth and lift it. Leaning in, I pull one of his balls into my mouth and suck hard.

“Fuck!” Dox shouts.

Smiling to myself, I release one and suck on the other. Dox’s hands leave the armrests and slide into my hair, pulling it off my face. He grips with one hand and pulls me away from his balls.

“I want to watch you sucking me, Little Ghost.”

Nodding, I take his dick into my mouth again and play with his piercing. I love it, and with the way Dox’s breathing picks up again, I know he does too.

I take him deeper this time, sucking him hard, and Dox starts to control the speed with his hands on the back of my head.

“That’s it. Just like that,” he moans.

He’s practically fucking himself with my mouth by the time one hand leaves my head and he yanks me back, the other going to his cock to jerk it until hot cum lands on my face. I close my eyes as the first rope hits me in the cheek, my mouth staying open with my tongue sticking out.

“Mmm,” Dox hums. “You look so fucking good painted in my cum, Little Ghost.” His finger traces over my face where his cum is dripping. “Suck,” he demands, and slides his finger over my tongue. I do, and moan when I taste his cum drenched over his finger.

He pulls his finger from my mouth with a pop, and his hands leave me. Going to pull his pants back over his hips. I hate the absence of his hands, his warmth. I want more.

I wish I could see his face so I could see his emotions, but only a skeleton mask stares back at me.

“Let me go clean up and then we can continue this on the bed.” I smile and stand, walking to the attached bathroom to wipe off my face. He got the large bits of cum, but I can still feel the residue and that will become dry and cracking. Not comfortable.

I quickly wash off my face and step back into the bedroom.

The door to my room is open and Dox is gone.

I scan the room. Hoping he’ll appear out of thin air, and notice the wad of cash on my bed.

I guess he’s gone. On the way to close my door, I notice Carlos’ envelope on the floor.

I didn't realize I had dropped it. Actually, I completely forgot about it the minute I stepped into Dox’s space and smelt his calming scent.

How is it I've gone years without caring about anyone, and in the span of a week, two clients have stirred feelings in me I thought were dead?