Page 22

Vivian

The car ride to his house was quiet this time. I had a new driver, Toby. Thank God. The man behind the wheel had greeted me with a curt nod as he opened the door for me, then took my bag, put it in the trunk, and got behind the wheel.

“Um… I’m not sure. Dr. Connolly’s house.”

He nodded and said, “That’s the one,” then was silent the rest of the drive.

My phone buzzed as we drove toward his neighborhood.

Jeff: I have an emergency at the hospital and won’t be there when you arrive.

Jeff: The code for the front door is 0-5-1-1, then press the star button. Be waiting for me in the living room.

No apology, or “see you soon.” Just, “be waiting.”

I chastised myself.

What did I expect? He owns me—he doesn’t owe me anything.

Me: Yes, Sir. I’ll be waiting.

I kept my phone in my hand in case he responded, but of course, he didn’t.

When we pulled into Jeff’s drive, I let out a sigh of relief. It had been the right address.

Toby wished me a pleasant evening as he handed me my bag and waited in the car as I punched in the code Jeff had texted me.

Once the lock turned, I gave him a small wave, then stepped inside.

The familiar scent of the house hit me, and I instantly relaxed. That’s when I realized… I was comfortable here.

Good grief. How was that possible?

I carried my bag straight to the guest room that I’d been using and shut the door behind me.

After stripping quickly, I folded my clothes and set them on the chair in the corner, then pulled a white t-shirt from my bag and slipped it over my head.

I was still following the rules—my holes were available to him.

The shirt barely covered my ass. I didn’t care. I just didn’t want to sit around completely naked while I waited for him to come home.

I went downstairs to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. A small smile spread across my face when I noticed the stash of Pellegrino bottles he had on a shelf. I grabbed the bottle of Pinot Grigio he’d opened last weekend. He’d said he’d bought it at the winery in Napa Valley where it was made.

I took my glass into the living room and settled onto the couch with my phone to see if he’d texted again.

He hadn’t.

I sipped. Waited. And refilled my glass.

As I was walking back into the living room, I remembered the lingerie I had packed.

I’d brought it last week but hadn’t had an opportunity to wear it. Tonight seemed like an appropriate time.

I carried my wineglass back upstairs and set it on the dresser as I changed into the sheer black lace teddy I’d gotten on the sale rack. I thought the subtlety of it made it sexier.

I pushed my boobs up so they were spilling out of the cups, then smoothed my hands down the sides of my hips, while I checked myself out in the mirror.

Not bad , I thought, as I put my hands on my waist and turned side to side to see myself from different angles.

I picked up my now-empty wineglass and headed back downstairs. The Pinot was already making me feel warm, but I thought I’d have a little more as I waited.

As I passed through the living room on the way to the kitchen, I noticed a candle on the bookshelf and decided to use the Aim-n-Flame next to the fireplace to light it.

Then I saw another on the end table.

And another on the mantel.

By the time I stepped back and looked around, the whole room glowed in soft light. It was romantic as fuck; the only thing missing was soft music.

That’s when I spotted the Bose speaker on the side table. I picked up my phone and tapped Bluetooth. It connected without a password, which to me, seemed like serendipity.

Without thinking too hard, I opened my music app and scrolled to a playlist labeled Late Nights.

A slow, sexy song poured out of the speaker, and I sat down on the couch with my wineglass just as I saw lights in the driveway.

****

Jeff

I came into the house through the garage and hung my keys on the hook next to the door before walking further into the house.

I’d hurried home— not because I was anxious to see her. But because my cock hadn’t been drained in five days, and it was overdue.

That was all.

I was late and was half expecting to find her asleep on the couch, naked. I’d wake her up with my dick in her mouth.

Instead, I walked into the living room and found candlelight and music.

Soft and slow, the kind of song no one plays by accident. The living room glowed. Every flat surface had a candle on it—mantel, end table, bookshelf. The air smelled like candle wax and whatever perfume she wore that had clung to my sheets all week.

She was sitting on the couch in a black lace teddy and holding a glass of wine like she belonged there.

Something tightened in my chest at the sight of her. I liked coming home to this. For a split second, I didn’t move, I just looked at her.

And then the second passed.

She didn’t live here. She wasn’t my girlfriend, and this wasn’t a date night.

This was a transaction. She was being paid to be here.

“I didn’t realize I was coming home to a Hallmark movie,” I quipped as I moved further inside the room.

She looked around with that damn smile I was becoming addicted to.

“Sorry, I went a little overboard.”

My voice was cold when I replied, “I don’t recall you asking if this would be okay.”

Her smile faltered, but she held her ground.

“I just thought—” she started.

“That’s the problem,” I cut in. “You’re here so I can use your holes, not to think, and definitely not to cover up what belongs to me.”

Her mouth opened slightly and her eyes widened. I’d pissed her off.

Good.

She set her glass down with a thud, then went about blowing out the candles without a word. The room went eerily quiet when she killed the music; smoke filled the air.

She whirled around and glared at me, then gestured to the lingerie she had on.

She was a goddamn knockout.

“Is this okay, or should I take it off?”

I shrugged like it didn’t matter. “I don’t care as long as your holes are available.”

The muscle in her jaw clenched as she continued glaring at me. The silence was tangible yet her look spoke volumes.

Stepping past me, she bent over the arm of the couch and spread her legs wide. The sight of her pretty pink pussy peeking from the crotch of the teddy caused every coherent thought in my head to flee.

Fuck. She might not be naked, but she’d obeyed my rule.

Her tone was flat when she looked back over her shoulder and asked, “Would you prefer another hole, Sir?”

That was better. She needed to be reminded what this was. Hell, I needed to be reminded of it.

I gruffly replied, “No, that hole will work just fine.”

I didn’t hesitate, just unzipped. Stepping behind her, I grabbed her hips, kicked her legs wider and pushed into her in one rough thrust.

No foreplay. No words. Just the sound of skin meeting skin. Her steady breathing was the only thing that told me she was still with me.

This wasn’t about connection, it was about control.

About reminding her—and myself—what this was.

“You think candles and soft music change anything?” I growled as I slammed into her deep. “You think a bit of lace makes you my girlfriend?”

She didn’t answer. Her fingers just gripped the cushion tighter.

“Let me make it real clear, slut. You’re a warm hole. That’s all.”

I drove into her harder after that. Meaner. Pretending that punishing her would erase how many times I’d thought about her this week. Or that I’d liked coming home to her.

When I came, I stayed deep, gripping her hips so hard she’d feel it tomorrow.

She didn’t make a sound. Didn’t move. Merely stayed there like she thought any shift might set me off again.

Then I heard her whisper, “I’m sorry. I just thought you might like to come home to something nice.”

Her head hung down so I couldn’t see her face, but her voice cracked at the end.

Fuck.

I pulled out and backed away with my fists tight at my sides.

I didn’t say anything; just went to the half bath and grabbed a towel.

She was still bent over when I came back and still refused to look at me.

I knelt and cleaned her up, wiping between her thighs and down the backs of her legs. My hands were gentle, but my jaw was locked the whole time.

When I picked her up, I didn’t think. Just acted.

Her cheek was damp where it rested against my chest as I carried her up the stairs, making me feel like a bigger asshole than I already did.

I opened my bedroom door and threw the comforter back, then laid her down and pulled the covers up around her.

She didn’t say a word.

Neither did I. But I didn’t leave.

I sat on the edge for a second, then stripped off my shirt and slid in beside her.

She didn’t look at me, but she didn’t pull away either.

I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against my chest, then kissed the top of her head.

I wanted to apologize. God, I wanted to say something.

But I didn’t.

She was my whore; I shouldn’t give a shit about hurting her feelings.

This was a transaction. Sex for money. Nothing else.

I closed my eyes and let myself believe it.