Blurred Lines (Blurred Lines Volume 1) (2 page)

Chapter 3

It’s nine o’clock. The night air is warm and breezy. Salt from the ocean gives the air a little bite.

My apartment complex is snuggled between The Bean Barn and a barber shop. I stop in at the coffee shop and get an iced coffee and a blueberry scone. Bob, the manager, doesn’t charge me for the coffee and I thank him.

Slid
e into a booth, open the paper already sitting on the table, and find the business section. The DOW is down and the NASDAQ is up. Wall Street is a mess. I peruse an article. Some guy is giving his two cents on trends in the market.

Lame
, I think and pull out my phone. Fileze said he would text the address by ten tonight. It’s nine thirty, so I wait and watch the people pass by The Bean Barn’s big window.

On a giant billboard across the street is a movie poster. The actress has dark hair, is holding a knife, and appears to be fighting her way through a jungle. Behind the billboard is the ocean. If I listen hard I can hear the waves break and smash against the sand. 

That’s one of my favorite things about L.A.: there’s a variety of people and something for everyone. Of course the elite of the town are the actors, but the truth is they’re just as fucked up as I am. Their form of prostitution is just a lot more visible than mine.

My phone buzzes.

It’s Fileze. He texts me:
The Hotel BelAyre. Ten-thirty. Room 1323. His name is John. He’s already paid. Your cut is your freedom. Don’t fuck it up and don’t be late. I’m counting on you.

I snicker
at the client’s name. John.
Sure it is
, I think. But, whatever. I text him back to let him know I received the message and finish my coffee. If I hurry, I can walk and make it in plenty of time.

The Hotel
BelAyre is swank, decorated in various shades of gold, white, black, and green. Lush plants are placed perfectly. The air is fresh and cool. Now I understand why he wanted me to dress fancy. Had I come in one of my regular outfits I would’ve stood out like an ostrich in a room full of penguins. As it is I still feel out of place, but I roll my shoulders back, lift my chin, and head toward the elevator.

A girl at the front desk stops me.

“Can I help you?”

I swallow
. Fuck. What if he didn’t tell the front desk I was coming? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The night will be ruined before it even gets started and I’ll still be Fileze the Sleaze’s bitch. Ugh. Realizing there’s nothing else I can do, I decide to tell the truth. “I’m meeting John in room thirteen twenty three. He’s expecting me,” I purr.

She taps some keys on her computer, and I feign irritation. “Did you want a DNA sample?”

She shrugs apologetically. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

I finish my walk to the elevator and push the button. It tings and the door slides open. Inside is a bellman. “What floor?”

“Thirteen,” I say.

He eyes me, taking his time with my thighs. I reach around him and press the button. “I haven’t got all day.”

He clears his throat.

When we reach the thirteenth floor, the elevator stops and the door slides open.

“Which way to room thirteen twenty three?” I ask, peering out.

“There are only two suites on the thirteenth floor.
Thirteen twenty three is to your left.”

Straightening my dress, I
walk to the door. Before I knock I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and tell myself whatever happens tonight, it’ll be worth it to be my own boss. Then I knock softly.

On the other side of the door I hear some rustling. The deadbolt unlocks and the door opens.

Holy shit!
It’s the only thought my brain can supply. He’s not what I expected. John is shirtless and with good reason. His body is glistening with sweat, like he’s been working out. He’s wearing bike shorts and ankle socks and shoes.

A flicker of irritation crosses his features as he takes me in.

“Can I help you?”

I
glance back nervously. The bellhop is standing at the elevator, watching. I lean in and whisper. “I’m here at your request, John. May I come in?”

I see an assortment of feelings
change his beautiful, chiseled face. Finally he holds the door open. “Of course.” Then he nods to the bellhop. “I’ll catch ya later, Devin.”

“Thanks, sir,” I hear the bellhop say as John closes the door.

Chapter 4

John turns and smiles, flashing a dimple in his right cheek. I can’t get over how hot he is. My knees weaken of their own volition and I curse myself. Gorgeous doesn’t mean good. He could be a total asshole.

“Everything’s taken care of. My only rule is you must always wear a condom.” The way he looks at me, like I’m a new and exotic bird, makes me nervous. But no matter what, I can’t break that rule. “Is that acceptable?” I hold my breath, waiting. Hoping, even.

He steps forward. “Works for me. Do you mind if I shower first, um… what’s your name?”

When I first started this whole prostitute thing
I debated going with different names with every guy, and I usually do. Just whatever name that comes to mind. But when John asks, the only name that comes to mind is my own. 

“
Cadence,” I blurt, and blush.

He steps forward and I realize he’s still a head taller than me, even with my seven-inch heels. I glance up.

“You’re John, right?”

He chuckles warmly. “That’s me.”

“Awesome,” I say and breathe. John seems really nice.

“I’m going to shower now. Make yourself at home.
There’s wine and cheese on the table over there.” He points toward a wall, but it isn’t a wall at all. It’s windows. The curtains are open and I can see the glow of the lights from the city.

John
turns away and walks through a set of double doors.

“Okay,
” I respond. It’s strange that he seems nice. And I can’t help but wonder where the catch is. Fileze wouldn’t have made this easy on me.

I check my phone. There’s another text from Fileze:
You there yet?

I quickly text back:
Yeah. Gonna sign off for the night. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him.

Once my phone is off, I set down my purse and walk to the window. The view is kick ass beautiful
. Dark sky against the bright city lights. It’s amazing and takes my breath away. I stare at the scenery, lost in my thoughts. Then notice the cheese platter. I take a piece and chew slowly. It’s good. Creamy.

It seems like John has been in the shower for a long time.
I walk to the entrance of the bedroom. There’s a king-sized bed with luxurious bedding and pillows covering it. The water from the shower is still running and I make a decision.

Running back into the living room, I grab my purse. Then I kick off my shoes and unzip my dress, sliding out of it. I walk into the bathroom feeling bold. This is my last night as the bitch to Fileze the Sleaze. I’m going to rock this guy so hard
there won’t be any excuses.

I gently open the door. It’s steamy. The mirrors and the glass on the shower door fogged over. I place my purse on the counter and walk over to the shower. I can see his head. His blond hair darkened by water. I pull the door open. He turns my direction and his blue eyes slowly drink me in.

“Mind if I join you?” I wait, suddenly shy for him to agree, wondering if he’d rather have some privacy. His cock welcomes me before his lips do.

“Of course.” He holds out a hand to help me in.
So gentlemanly.

“Can I wash your hair?”

He hands me the shampoo. I squeeze some into my hands and rub them together. There’s a bench in the shower, and I step up so I’ll be able to reach. He grabs my elbow to steady me.

I
grin at his thoughtfulness. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He turns around and I put the shampoo in his hair, massaging
my fingertips into his scalp.

He groans. “You’re good at that.”

“I try,” I say, watching the contentment on his face. His eyes are closed, his lips slightly parted. He looks like a God. If Eros, the god of love, sexual prowess, and dirty thoughts, had a child with Artemis, I’m quite certain John would be him.

His long lashes are wet and clump together. He licks his full lips. Strong shoulders are attached to
sculpted arms and a perfect back with muscles in all the right places.

“Rinse,” I say. My voice is hoarse and I clear my throat. He turns and puts his he
ad under the water. His eyes open briefly and he reaches a hand to my breast, taking a nipple between his thumb and first finger. I gasp as the feeling of desire courses through my body.

He
gives me a lopsided smile and closes his eyes, quickly rinsing out the shampoo. Helping me down from the bench he places me under the water, running his fingers through my long dark hair. “Your turn.”

I’m thrown off balance by this guy. Usually if a man is paying for a hooker he’s out
to be pleasured. I’m okay with that. I didn’t go into this job blind. But he’s tenderly making sure my hair is soaked. When he’s satisfied he grabs the shampoo and squirts some in my hair.

“Turn around, please.”

I do as he asks. His fingers massage the soap into my hair and I work not to moan in pleasure. “Wow, that feels amazing.”

He chuckles. “Haven’t you ever had someone wash your hair before?”

I shrug. “Nope. This is my first time.”

His erection gets harder and presses against my back.

“Rinse,” he says turning me into the water.

I
do, lifting my arms and working the soap out. As I work, his lips suckle one of my nipples. He teases it with his teeth. I can’t concentrate on rinsing out the soap any longer and grab his shoulders, digging my nails in.

He moves to the other one and I gasp again. He uses just the right a
mount of pressure and teasing, not too hard and not too soft. The tension between my legs builds and I’m shocked.

He’s my client and I’m supposed to be pleasing him
, I tell myself, trying to regain my composure. I open my eyes and see he’s watching me. Biting my tongue, I rein in my needs and move my hands to his hardened cock.

“Let me suck your dick,” I say, smiling sweetly.

His eyes go wide a moment. He nods. I waver, realizing I’ve momentarily forgotten my own rule: protection at all times.

And I have an internal debate with myself.
He has to be clean. Surely a guy who stays in such an expensive hotel would keep himself free from STDs.

John seems to sense my hesitation. “I have condoms. Hang on.” I’m about to insist on my own but he’s already gone and back
before I get the chance to say anything. He tears the wrapper open and rolls it on. It’s then I notice just how big he is—like huge. No medium for him, and the heat between my legs gets stronger.

John closes the shower door and I kneel in front of him, wrapping my hands around the shaft and taking the tip in my mouth.
I move my tongue around it and then take him all in so he’s touching the back of my throat.

My eyes are on his face and he throws his head back.

Better
, I think and move up and down, swirling my hand as I move my mouth.

“Oh my God, that feels good. Shit.”

I grin internally. Happy I’m turning him on. Making him hot.

After a few minutes, I sense his body tensing. He grabs my hair in a ponytail and pulls me off.

“God, Cadence. You’re going to make me come too fast.” He puts his hands under my arms and helps me stand. Then he moves me to the bench. “My turn.” John pushes my legs open and bends my legs so my heels are on the bench touching the backs of my thighs. He kneels in front of me, licks my clit once. I put my hands in his hair.

“May I?” he asks
, and I nearly faint. His touch is different in a good way. More than good, really, but I’m not going there right now.

“Of course,” I say.

He licks my clit again and sticks two fingers in my pussy, moving his tongue and his fingers in unison. The tension builds and my orgasm comes almost before I realize it.

“Holy fuck.” My legs are
trembling and I’m nearly pulling his hair out.

He smirks and leans in for a kiss. This is another shocker. Most men just assume there’s no kissing—like it’s an unwritten rule. But I meet hi
m halfway, tasting myself on his succulent lips. He’s an amazing kisser, teasing with his tongue. It makes me hotter and I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him closer. He lifts and carries me out of the shower, laying us both on the bed, soaking wet. We’re wet, slippery and I move all over, unable to get enough of him. He kisses me everywhere: my neck, my breasts, my stomach and then back to my lips.

I want him inside. I want to feel his huge cock rock me to my core.

“John, fuck me. Fuck me, please.” A part of me wants to feel bad that I’m so turned on by him. This was supposed to be all about him, but God he’s got me so turned on I can’t think. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way.

He kneels up and presses his thumb to my clit, rubbing
me softly. “You’re beautiful, Cadence. Your eyes are the loveliest shade of hazel. Not quite gray, not quite blue, not quite green. They’re bewitching.”

“Thanks,” I say
, and gasp as he slides a finger inside.

“You ready to come again?” He moves closer,
spreads my pussy slightly and slides his cock into me.

We moan together.

He’s still kneeling and grabs my thighs, pulling me further onto him as we move in unison.

The tension between my legs builds.
I’m so hot, so ready. I want him harder, faster, and I encourage him on.

He lifts my butt with his hands so he’s totally buried and slamming his body into mine and I’m right there with him, slamming back.

I’m going to come again. So quick. I don’t understand how he can do this. He’s a good fuck, sure. Usually my orgasms take a little more work though. And I have to be the one to do it, because I trust myself. But my second orgasm is coming whether I want it to or not. And trust me, I fucking want it.

“Cadence, you’re so hot. Fuck, I’m going to come.” And he does, and I do.

After his is over, he lays on top of me, stroking my hair between his fingers.

“You rock,” he whispers
, and I can feel his smile in my hair.

“So do you,” I reply.