Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 26768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
I gulp. He finally looks at me and his eyes are dark and menacing. Oh god. My palms begin to sweat. Here we go.
“Done? Good. Thank you.” Ending the call, he puts the phone in his pocket, never taking his eyes off me. In fact, he is studying me, my face, my body, and everything about me. It almost feels like he could read my thoughts if he keeps at it.
“Nico?” I step up, but he steps back.
“You will do for the night. Clothes off.”
I shake my head. What does he mean I’ll do for the—Oh fuck.
His whore.
I told him I wanted to be his whore and so much more. This is the start.
“Yes, Nico.”
“Don’t say my name. I don’t fucking know you. This is a transaction. Talking without my approval wasn’t what I ordered.”
Holy hell, my mind is spinning and I can’t process everything all at once. I need to get naked, but I am stunned in place.
“You have one hour. Money is on the counter. Get naked. Come in when you’re done undressing.” He turns, walking to the hotel room door and there isn’t enough room in the hallway. It feels suffocating, though it is bigger than most New York Studio apartments. My lungs are being gripped in a vise.
Nico is a stranger, and I am who he paid for, for the night.
I take off my clothes, feeling each piece slide from me and it almost reminds me of a burn. I am on pins and needles and so is my body. The material of my bra catches on my nipples, and I jolt forward. I am aroused by all this immensely. Me and Nico are no strangers to degradation, and I have been called his slut, whore, and more, but he is actually treating me like a whore. “There is money on the counter.” The way he said it, so disassociated and cold, unlike the lover I have come to know, didn’t have me coil in on myself, it spread me open. My chest opened. My body flushed. My core was desperately seeking him at that moment. Still this very second.
Now bare of anything but flesh, I take measured steps, mesmerizing the sounds my breathing makes, my feet padding across the floor, every single noise is so viciously loud. The door is slightly ajar, and with the softest push, I put pressure against the entry and it opens painfully slow.
“Hello?” Stepping in, I would take in all the décor and the intricate details, but I couldn’t care less.
“Count it.”
My eyes find him in the dark. The window curtains are open just enough for the nightlife to light up his form and I gulp. His classic power stance. Right. The money. I look to the left on the entry table and a large sum of cash sits there.
“There should be $100,000 for your hour,” he adds.
My hell. Is that how much he paid other women? Nico probably never had to pay for women, my husband is magnetic, breathtaking, and an animal in the bedroom. Women probably wanted to pay him.
I count it. Knowing that my husband is committed to the bit. Sliding off the band around the cash, I count. Each one-hundred-dollar bill. When I get a couple thousand, I decide it’s time I start playing along.
“I trust you’re good on the money. What do you want to do…” I trail off, waiting for him to indicate what he would like me to call him.
“Sir.”
“Sir.” I step into the living area, mimicking him. There is another hall to the left of me leading to more doors. So this is a multi-bedroom suite.
“There will be an additional $50,000 grand if I am happy with your service.” His voice is low and powerful. I almost feel the rumble in his chest from where I stand. He steps more out of the shadows and now in front of the small agape curtains.
The classic power stance I have salivated over for a decade now. His hands are in his pockets, his shoulders are squared, and his legs expanded just enough. He is a personification of dominance.
“Where would you like me?” He laughs softly, rubbing his middle and pointer finger against his stubble.
“I want to see what I paid for in action. Sit here, now,” he demands, pointing to the couch and I move into action.
I step up to the couch next to him and he moves to the wall, hitting a button, the curtains open on the track. Opening us up to more light and baring us enough to see our intimate parts but leaving an ominous desire lingering in the air. Once the curtains are fully open, I look at the side table next to me and my breath hitches. Toys. Vibrators. Dildos. All in various shapes and sizes.
“Pick your choice and fuck yourself for me.” He takes a seat adjacent to me in the burnt orange leather chair.