Page 2 of Filthy Mouth

She took her time and looked me over, even leaning back to get a better view. The last time I had a hooker was at least fifteen years ago at a stag do.

Could hookers afford to be picky? What the fuck happened to customer service? This country was falling apart.

“Sure,” she said, sticking her straw in her mouth and sucking.

Her lips pouted, cheeks hollowed—and I fucking knew she had amazing suction skills. Those lips could talk a priest into hell. Glossy, glistening, sinful little pillows that looked better suited to wrapping around my cock than saying no. I wanted to grab a fistful of her hair and fuck that gloss clean off.

I smiled tightly and sat across from her as she released the straw.

Not many women could take me balls deep. It wasn’t the ten inches—it was the girth that was the issue. My eyes trailed down to her neck. She’d have the skillset from her career.

“Did you come to stare, Mr—”

Prostitute.

Like hell was I giving her my real name.

“Trentham. But you can call me Marcus,” I said, lifting my Macallan.

My silent fuck you to Magnus and his happy new life.

“I’m Poppy. You can call me Poppy.”

Poppy? Sure, it is.

“Sorry to stare, but you have the most fuckable lips I’ve ever seen,” I drawled, deciding to lay it all out so I wasn’t wasting my time.

Her eyes widened for a second.

“That’s very bold of you to say, Mr Trentham,” she said, and slowly licked her lips.

I swallowed.

Why was her lip gloss not coming off?

And why the fuck did I give Magnus’s name? I wanted to hearmyname coming out of those lips.

“Poppy, why don’t we cut to the chase? How much do you charge by the hour?”

She chuckled, eyes twinkling, then reached for her drink again.

“How much are you willing to pay for these lips?” she said once she released her straw again.

“Name your price. I’m not a pauper. But be warned—once you name it, I will skull fuck a hole in your neck.”

She didn’t even blink.

“If you can keep it up long enough, Mr Trentham, my mouth costs a thousand pounds per load,” she said with a smirk.

“Done. Finish your drink,” I said, draining my glass.

Surprise flickered in her eyes, but it was gone before I could analyse it further.

“Cash upfront,” she said.

“Of course. We’ll need to go to my apartment.”

“For safety, I’d like an address,” she said, pulling her phone up.