Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Still no rock in the pit of my stomach.
I was sure it had to do with my finally having a fucking plan.
The iPad lit up next to me, and I swallowed the food in my mouth and opened the message from Gideon.
Arriving at ten. This is a reminder to close the curtains and put on the sleep mask. Instructions for the evening: lie on your back on the bed, without any clothes or covers, and don’t make a sound or movement unless I ask you a direct question or something is wrong. Please confirm.
The melancholy took a hike and was replaced by a familiar thrill I hadn’t felt since I first began working for Tina.
There was a possibility I would actually find this exciting.
I responded after sticking half an egg roll into my mouth.
Understood. Curtains closed, mask on, no covers, no sound, no movement.
Here we go.
He hadn’t mentioned anything about the light, so I left the one on the nightstand on, because I didn’t think Gideon would arrive with night-vision goggles. Then I folded down the duvet on the bed and took my spot in the middle. The sleep mask sat snugly and didn’t allow for any peeking; I couldn’t even see anything along the edges.
Deep breaths.
I relaxed against the mattress and tried to push away those invasive, obsessive thoughts that tended to creep in before I met a new client. The panicky ones that yelled that Gideon could be a serial killer or kidnapper. That kind of shit.
Deep breaths.
I adjusted my pillows and suppressed a shiver. It wasn’t warm enough in the apartment to walk around naked forever.
Any minute now.
Deep breaths.
The sound of a key turning in the lock sent my pulse through the roof. This was it. He was here. The door opened and closed, and the lock was twisted again. Madonn’, it was difficult to lie still, knowing he was probably watching me.
At the same time, it was thrilling. I wasn’t bad to look at.
He walked closer. The sound was familiar; he wore dress shoes, not sneakers or anything like it. Dress shoes against wooden floors. Then he stopped, and a chair was pulled out. There was some fabric rustling. It was insane how heightened my senses became when I couldn’t use my eyes.
I had to remind myself to breathe calmly.
Another few steps closer brought him to the alcove, and I didn’t know what to expect, but I tensed up for a second when the bed dipped and he sat down on the edge next to me. The anticipation was going to fucking kill me. Was he a rough kind of man? Was he gentle? Cautious? Nervous? I could barely remember my own exploring of guys. Since Anthony was fifteen years older than me, he’d been out for as long as I’d been alive, and it’d been normalized in our home. I just knew one day that I was into men, and there’d been no stigma. It hadn’t felt weird to explore, no more than what most went through. Teenage nerves, but never fear. I’d been lucky.
If Gideon was using a sex worker at the age of forty-four to explore, something told me he didn’t have the easy background that I did, sexuality-wise.
He lowered his hand carefully onto my thigh, and as soon as I felt his fingers trembling, my own nerves took a hike.
If I concentrated hard, I could hear his unsteady breathing.
Instinct told me to help him, to reassure him, to guide him, but that would go against the rules, and I had no idea how he’d react. Two months was quite a while; it was probably better to be patient and win his trust.
He stroked my thigh slowly, down to my knee, then up until his fingertips teased my hip. “You’re incredibly beautiful.”
Fuck me, so was his voice. He’d spoken too quietly, but there was no mistaking a solid, warm, masculine voice.
I exhaled as he slid his hand across my abs.
I wasn’t sure anyone had ever called me beautiful. Hot, sexy, handsome, attractive, cute—never beautiful. The word felt different. It didn’t settle within me like most compliments did.
The scent of his cologne reached me when his hand shifted up to my chest, and it was as mouthwatering as the best kind of porn. It matched his voice, however that was possible.
Not giving a fuck about how shallow it made me, I hoped he didn’t tell me to lose the mask, because there was no way his appearance would live up to the sound of him and his scent.
He took his time touching me, and I had to admit it felt hella amazing. Foreplay and sensuality were lost arts. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been with someone who wasn’t impatient in bed.
He drew in a breath and cautiously dipped his hand between my legs.