Текст книги "About Last Night..."
Автор книги: Belle Aurora
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About Last Night
Published by Belle Aurora
Copyright © 2015 Belle Aurora
First published June 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Request: Copyright Approval” at [email protected].
License Notes
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Belle Aurora is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs or musicians or artists mentioned in this book.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven – Epilogue
AND ANOTHER THING Teaser
Chapter One
Mia
I couldn’t believe what I was doing.
This was not like me. I didn’t know who I was at that moment. I wasn’t an extrovert. I didn’t make snap decisions. I was not the life of the party, not by any stretch of the imagination. I was…well…me.
I didn’t know what had possessed my body, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.
Yeah. I didn’t like it.
Oh, yeah?
I freaking loved it.
Praise Jesus, hallelujah!
I was being naughty for the first time in my life, and it felt good.
As I stared at the open web browser, I shifted the laptop around on my thighs to get better positioned. I typed a few choice words into the search engine, and bam! There they were.
I shouldn’t have been doing this.
No, you shouldn’t.
But I really wanted to.
Who am I to argue with you? We’re the same person.
Great logic, brain. I liked it.
Curiosity got the better of me. I clicked on the first option and waited. The website loaded and my jaw dropped.
Men. Hundreds of beautiful men smiled back at me, looking at me with unadulterated lust, their smiles whispering, Come hither. Each profile said only a short paragraph about the man. Ben apparently lived to please, while Marcus liked to dominate. Cameron, however, could go either way.
Hmmm. I’d hoped for a little more from my search. Something deviant even. This was, after all, a big deal, for me anyway.
Disappointed, I moved my curser to click out of the screen when suddenly, I found myself hovering over a profile picture. A small box appeared. Click to see more. My giddiness returned as quickly as it had left. Only this time, it had bells on. I shook my head slowly, annoyed at myself.
Of course they wouldn’t show everything on the main screen. I need to dig.
Marcus was rather dashing. He was tall, dark, and handsome. His posture and expression screamed, You want me, and I found myself wanting exactly that. I needed to find out more about him.
Click.
My eyes widened a second before my jaw dropped for a second time in five minutes. Blinking, I swallowed hard and stared into the screen. Marcus was gorgeous, no doubt. And here I was staring at photos of both his flaccid and erect penis.
I’d never seen a penis that up close before. I’d done things with men a couple of times, but as per my request, we’d kept the lights off. I stared harder. I’d fondled that? It sure as hell didn’t feel that big. It was a little weird looking, like an angry, thick, inflatable baton. Also, I had thought men had pubic hair like women did.
Opening a second tab, I searched for ‘regular man’s penis.’ Within seconds, the pictures loaded and I looked between the images in front of me. Glancing back and forth, I pursed my lips. Marcus seemed to have an extraordinarily large and pretty dick. And most men definitely had pubic hair.
I bit my lip.
I knew I shouldn’t.
Oh, God. Somebody stop me!
I didn’t think; I just did.
Typing quickly, I covered my eyes before the profile loaded. I peeked through my fingers and as soon as I saw him smiling that crooked, Colgate smile, I slowly lowered my hand. There he was.
His posture far more relaxed than my dear friend Marcus, his body was a mix of smooth and hard, his arms muscled in a way that made a girl wish she’d get wrapped up in them…and lost in a forever happy after. His natural tan gave him a glow that perfectly accompanied his mischievous grin. His dark brown hair was sun-streaked and slightly too long in that perfect way men could pull off, curling behind his ears. It looked as though he’d just run a hand through the flawless chaos. He had no body hair apart from a small trace starting below his belly button, trailing lower than I’d ever been bold enough to look, and a broad chest and shoulders I wished to bite. His hazel eyes smiled into the camera. And I was lost.
Matt Quinn. My brother’s best friend. And I was about to see something I shouldn’t ever have seen.
Click.
My mouth dropped open and a strangled, choking noise escaped me.
Oh, my God. Goodbye, Marcus. I’d found something even better than him. Marcus who?
His erection looked different than Marcus’. It looked thicker, manlier, and angrier. And secretly, I wished to taste it. It looked like this cock was made purely for the purpose of pleasing women.
My stomach lurched. Before I could really think about what I was doing, I opened my email.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Setting a date.
Hi Quinn,
I have just gone on a tour of the DFT website and came across your profile.
The first thing I noticed about you was your easy smile, something I found very soothing. You see, talking to men makes me anxious. I’m a little socially awkward and your smile puts me at ease.
If you have time, I’d like to talk to you about what I’m looking for, and if we find what I’m looking for in you, we can set a date.
Kindest regards,
Maya x
I stared at the message a long while, careful to double check I hadn’t used my real name. I shut my eyes as tight as I could and clicked send. Then I calmly stood, walked into the bathroom, knelt by the toilet, and threw up.
Chapter Two
Quinn
I read the email three times. Every additional time I read it, my smile grew bigger.
I had dealt with a lot of women in my five years as an escort, but the shy ones were always the ones I preferred. Their nervous smiles and sweet pink blushes did it for me. I loved making them come. They always seemed so surprised when they did.
I chuckled to myself and responded to Maya.
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Setting a date.
Hello Maya,
Thank you for your consideration; you seem sweet.
I think you’re right. Why don’t we talk about what you need from me and we’ll go from there?
I like to meet future clients face-to-face. Are you free today or tomorrow?
Quinn x
I set my laptop down, walked into the kitchen, and started a pot of coffee. Yawning, I rubbed a hand down my face. I wouldn’t be working out today. I smirked to myself.
Mrs. Haverbrook gave me a better workout last night than I would have managed by myself anyway. She was quite limber for a fifty-year-old. Truth was, I never even thought about her age when I was with her. Sure, she had grey streaked through her hair, but she had told me she would like to grow old gracefully, and she was. Pilates and yoga kept her body tight, and her dates with me were what kept her mind young. Or so she told me.
She had a thing for having me act as her son’s friend. If there ever was a Mrs. Robinson, Mrs. Haverbrook would’ve given her a run for her money.
Ping.
Sitting down at the kitchen counter, I absently rubbed my stomach and opened the email. As I read, my brow pulled down in a deep frown.
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: RE: Setting a date.
Quinn,
This was a bad idea.
I apologize for the inconvenience.
All the best,
Maya x
So, meeting beforehand had her worried. Call me crazy, but that just made me want to meet her even more. I didn’t want to think she was an ugly duckling, but the thought had crossed my mind, and in most cases, that was why clients were nervous. Most shy clients had major self-esteem issues.
Stopping the coffee machine mid-flow, I poured a cup, added cream, and downed it in one hit. I was tired as hell. My muscles ached in the very best way. I wanted to respond, but didn’t have a lot of time to get ready to meet my best friend Harry for lunch. Instead, I closed my laptop, stood, slipped out of my boxers, and walked naked to the bathroom. Showering in record time, I ran a hand through my too-long-to-call-neat hair, sprayed deodorant all over my body, and dressed in jeans, a Rolling Stones tee, and white sneakers.
As I walked out the door, I tossed a black jacket over my shoulder and unlocked my car. It was nothing fancy, but it was my day car, and I liked it well enough. My night car was normally a rental, care of the agency, and could be something as classy as a Maserati, or something as plain as an SUV. With the keys in the ignition, I hesitated.
I should have left it be. But something was bugging me, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on what. A sigh escaped me when I reached into my pocket for my cell. I accessed my mobile email and responded to Maya.
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Setting a date.
Maya,
Meeting with you would be a privilege, but I understand your hesitancy.
You don’t know me from Adam. I could be a serial killer for all you know.
If you’re still willing to talk to me, we can continue getting to know each other over email?
Take care,
Quinn
PS: No, I’m not a serial killer. That was probably a bad example.
I pressed send before I could second-guess myself. Then thought about what I’d written. A serial killer… Really?
My forehead landed with a thud on the steering wheel and I groaned at my stupidity. Now I’d never hear from her again. I resigned myself to that fact and drove over to Harry’s place.
Harry Bridgeton had been my best friend for the past five years. I’d never wanted or needed a best friend before him. But Harry had a way about him. It wasn’t easy being my friend sometimes, but he always stuck by me. He met me when I was in a bad place. He helped me through that bad place, encouraging me to do something with myself. In fact, it was Harry who suggested I become an escort.
I remembered it like it was yesterday.
Harry turned to me and held my hard gaze. “I don’t want to push you into anything, but I think you need a new job. Construction’s not for you, bud.”
I knew this. Work was declining and I barely had enough money to feed myself. Harry always let me know he was there when times got tough, but I declined, my pride stinging every damn time. I was twenty-six years old and had a chip on my shoulder. A big one. “Oh, yeah? What do you suggest? I don’t have a college education behind me, Har. I’m lucky to get what I’ve got.”
But Harry just smiled easy-like. “What do you like doing? What are you good at?”
“Drinking and fucking.” See that? There’s that chip I mentioned.
Harry looked past my shoulder, out into nothingness. After a while, his brow lifted then he muttered, “You ever thought about becoming one of those escorts? I hear it pays a lot.”
My brows narrowed. “How would you know how much it pays?”
Harry looked at me with wide eyes, a picture of innocence, and said in perfect calmness, “I may or may not have been an escort through college.”
I jumped up from my seat. “No way! You dirty, dirty fucker. You were a hooker, Har? A hooker?”
Harry scowled. “An escort, fucker. A high-end escort.” He looked over at me as I clutched my stomach from laughing so hard, and stood. “You know what? Forget about it. Looks like you don’t want to earn ten grand.”
Ten grand?
My laughter faltered. Harry’s smile held a secret, and I wanted in. “Ten grand?” I sputtered. “A month?”
Harry turned and made to leave. “A week, loser.”
After I’d tackled Harry and forced him to tell me all he knew, he admitted working for a respectable escort service called DFT. He knew the owner, Steve, and said he’d put in a good word for me.
A week later, I had resigned from construction and was employed by DFT. I soon found out what DFT stood for.
Dolls for Trolls.
I didn’t like it, but as long as it was abbreviated and none of the women knew what it meant, I supposed it was okay.
It didn’t take long to get to Harry’s. I lived on the beachfront in a decent-sized apartment overlooking the ocean. Harry lived in the suburbs, but it still only took a twenty-minute drive.
The moment I arrived, I spotted Harry locking up and talking on his cell. I assumed he’d done this to meet me. But the moment he saw me walking up the drive with my arms extended in a gesture reading, What the fuck, dude? his face gave him away.
He cussed into his phone. “Fuck!” At the response on the other line, his brows drew together and he uttered, “Not you, Minnie. I forgot about Quinn. He’s here. We sort of do lunch every Saturday.” I couldn’t hear the reply he was given, but figured it out pretty quickly when he scowled and barked into the phone, “No, not like a date, dipshit!”
I chuckled at his irritation then shrugged. “What’s going on?”
Harry held up a hand and quickly griped, “Hold on, Minnie.” Covering his phone, he muttered, “My sister moved back into town two days ago. I thought I’d go by, check out her apartment, and see what she needed. Help her get settled. Do my brotherly duty, you know?”
I nodded. I understood that. Harry had always been fond of his sister. They had a small family, just Mama Jane, Harry, and Minnie. Since I’d only been a friend of Harry’s for five years and the majority of that time Minnie had been away at college, I didn’t know her well. And when I said well, I meant at all.
I’d met her once, at a Christmas party hosted by their family five years earlier, but since I was caught up in my own bullshit, I’d had so much to drink that most of the night was a blur. The few things I knew about Minnie were that she was shy, short, and chubby. I kind of remembered mousy brown hair and doe eyes, but I wasn’t sure if my mind was playing tricks. She seemed nice, and the way she ribbed her brother meant we’d get along just fine.
My brow furrowed. I suddenly found myself protective of this shy little creature. “Why isn’t she living with your mom?”
Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He shook his head. “Mom would be too damn overprotective of her. What would she do if she wanted to bring home a date or some shit?” He chuckled. “Mom would send him packing.”
My brow continued to furrow. How many men would she be dating? Furthermore, how many would she bring home? That didn’t seem like the behavior of the girl I’d met all those years ago. I hated to butt in, but I felt as the best friend of the brother, I needed to say my piece. If I’d wanted a sister, Minnie would be the closest thing to it. “You’re okay with her bringing men home? How old is she? Are you sure she wouldn’t be better off living with Mama Jane?”
Harry suddenly looked at me like I’d sprouted horns. After a moment, he shook his head and uttered, “Dude, she’s almost twenty-seven. Not much I can do about that. As if I could stop her from dating, she’d chew my ass. And Minnie bites. Hard.”
He lifted the phone to his ear and started talking again. “Hey, can I bring Quinn? If there’s two of us, we can move shit around easier.”
Whatever Harry’s duties were to Minnie, he knew without asking that I’d be there with my metaphorical bells on. After all, Harry was the only family I really had. While he talked to his sister, I checked my cell. The moment I spotted the email icon, anticipation held me to the spot.
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: Setting a date.
Quinn,
Having you clarify that you’re in fact not a serial killer is a huge relief. For a moment there, I thought about all the other escorts turned serial killers and decided to stay on the safe side.
Death by lube doesn’t sound like a good way to go.
Also not a serial killer,
Maya
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I could not stop the stupid smile from spreading across my face. She was witty and sarcastic, two of the best qualities in a woman, in my opinion.
It might sound stupid for a person who gets paid for his looks to rate the looks of women at the lower end of the spectrum, but that was just me. I rated humor and intelligent conversation higher than looks. I did this, because I had dated some of the most beautiful women out there and, trust me, looks didn’t make up for lack of a brain.
From the second I received an enquiry from a new client, I knew what type of relationship she wanted. Some were very proper and to the point; others were very laid back and easygoing, but I had never had a client talk to me this way before, as if I were a friend. It set the pace. Without saying the words, she’d told me what she needed.
She needed a friend.
I let out a chuckle. If a friend was what she needed, I found myself in a position to fill that role in a temporary sense.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Did you make a funny??
Dearest Maya,
Was your extensive sarcasm your way of saying you approve and will allow me the honor of getting to know you a little better?
Also, death by lube would be gross.
Death by vibrating anal plug would be epic though.
Your friendly neighborhood Spiderman,
Killer Quinn
I clicked send as the conversation between Harry and Minnie turned into an argument. I waited and waited and waited for Maya’s reply, but got nothing. Harry yelled, “Fine!” into his cell and shoved it into his pocket.
Looking pissed off, Harry strode to the car, all but stomping his feet. “We’re going to lunch, moron.”
Just then, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Why, yes. How nice of you to notice.
Killer Quinn,
Vibrating anal plug? I’m almost too scared to ask…or Google.
And, I suppose, getting to know you may not be a bad thing, especially if you get my quirky sense of humor.
Tell me about yourself.
Maya’s so fly-a
I placed my phone back in my pocket, reminding myself to email when I got home, and made my way to the car.
When Harry called me moron, it was anything but an insult. An insult to your best friend should always be received as a pet name, as it is meant. “What about your sister?”
I couldn’t make out much of what Harry said, but I did hear him utter ‘devil spawn…prayed for a brother…kiss my ass.’ I guessed Minnie didn’t want an overprotective brother ruining her space.
I smiled to myself. Poor thing didn’t know she was getting two.
Chapter Three
Mia
He responded.
I threw myself back on my bed, clutching my phone to my chest, laughing. Not only had Matt Quinn responded, but he’d also flirted a little. Kind of. I think.
Whatever it was I had started, I was not regretting it. A friendship with Quinn would be great. After all, he was my brother’s best friend, and my brother was one of my best friends. It seemed like the natural course to take. I wanted Quinn, for sure. But he served a purpose. I needed his help. When all this was over, we’d look back and laugh. I was sure of it.
Straightening, I sat up on my bed and looked around my neat-but-bare apartment. Oh, damn. It was good to be home.
My mother had called me and left umpteen voice messages, the last one threatening to call the neighborhood watch to start a search that would no doubt end in retrieving my body from a ditch. Mom could be a little overprotective. And when I said a little, I meant a shitload.
The vibration in my hand accompanied by a loud ping let me know I’d received an email. I bit my lip to hide my smile.
What was happening to me? I was turning into a goose.
From: [email protected]
Subject: I’ll ask the questions around here, missy.
Maya drinks chai-a,
Shucks, lady. I am at your service.
But no, I won’t be telling you about myself… not until you tell me what you need from lil ole Quinn.
I’ll make you a deal. For every question you answer, you may ask one. And I promise to answer honestly…if you do.
Live long and prosper,
Captain Quinn
Oh no.
He was flirting.
And I…I was liking it very much.
My heart pounded in my chest while my mind reminded me that Matt Quinn made money flirting with women. He charmed women, took them into his bed, and fucked the ever-loving shit out of them, making them forget their pathetic lives for an hour at an extremely insane amount of cash.
My chest panged sorely as I thought about all the other women he’d bedded, but then I reminded myself that Quinn and I were destined to be friends, nothing more, which was fine by me. I would never be that woman. That woman would pine over a man she would never have. I was a realist. Men like Quinn didn’t fall for women like me. They fell for women with long blonde hair, big blue eyes, flawless skin, and legs that went on for miles.
Definitely not me.
I responded carefully, clinically, as though I didn’t have a care in the world and this was the kind of business I conducted.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Lily white Maya
Cap Quinn,
I’ll see to your terms and up them.
We each present two questions, but only one shall be answered. Sort of like a potluck.
As for your services, I am twenty-six years old and still a virgin. The thought of going out with men who have years of experience on me disheartens me. I don’t want to be seen as faulty or be at a disadvantage. I’d also like to feel like the grown-up I am.
I’d require you to take my virginity and teach me the basics of sex.
Is this something you can help with?
Maya don’t lie-a x
The email was sent. The gauntlet had been thrown. Next move…Matt Quinn.
