Read Infiltrating Your Heart Online
Authors: Kassy Markham
Infiltrating Your Heart
“Infiltrating Your Heart”
Kindle Edition
A New Adult erotic romance
Copyright ©2014 Kassy Markham
Cover photo by apops
The reproduction of this work, its storage in a
retrieval system, or transmission in any form or by any means, whether
electronic or mechanical, including recording, photocopying, or otherwise is
prohibited without express written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, places,
events, or locales are productions of the author’s imagination and used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, whether living or dead, is
purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
This book is intended for audiences 18+ only due to explicit
scenes and nudity.
For everyone who believed in me. Without you I would not have been
crazy–ahem,
dauntless
–enough to go on this path.
OF CONTENTS
Mercedes
If my job didn’t involve sleeping
with men every now and then, I could get used to riding in limousines. This
doesn’t happen often, though. My client for tonight is just a wealthy man. I’m
a top-ranked escort, and it comes with its perks. With my status, I can attract
the best clients, not just any horny dude looking for a lay.
The man I’m meeting today is a
businessman from Los Angeles. He’s staying here in San Francisco for business
matters, and wanted an attractive woman to spend time with. It impressed me
when he said he’d send a limousine to pick me up. For security reasons, I never
let clients know where I live. That’s why I had the limo pick me up at a spot
of my choosing, away from home.
I like what I do. It’s satisfying to
make men feel good. Let me make it clear that I’m
not
a whore. Having
sex every now and then is nice. But if it were up to me, I’d have it with only
one man: Mr. Right. As I haven’t met him yet, and I need to make ends meet, I
have to do this.
I’m not willing to have sex with just
anyone, so I let my employer know that. To my relief, she told me that escorts
are not required to have sex with their clients. My job only entails making
sure the men I go out with have a great time with me.
The limousine stopping pulls me from
my thoughts. I look out through my window. We’ve stopped in front of what
appears to be the entrance to a hotel.
“We’re here, Miss,” the driver
announces when he lowers the privacy partition. I’m glad that he didn’t address
me as “ma’am.” That would make me feel old. “My boss is expecting you inside.”
“Thanks,” I tell the driver. I open
my purse and reach for something inside it.
“That won’t be necessary,” the driver
says. I look up to see him shaking his head at me.
“Consider it a bonus,” I say, pulling
a twenty-dollar bill from my moneybag. I hand it to the driver with a smile. He
takes the bill, thanking me.
Early in my career, I wasn’t always
able to give out money like that. But you never know if the guy needs it.
Helping others is something I like to do. Just because he’s a limo driver for a
hotshot doesn’t mean the man couldn’t use a little extra money.
I open the door and step out into the
night. When the limo departs, I look down at the black dress I’m wearing today.
It’s sexy yet elegant, and shows off my curves. The skirt fans out a little and
exposes some skin above the knees. Violet and gold accents at the top lend the
dress some color. It exposes some of my chest, but it’s still decent to wear in
the company of businessmen.
Taking a short breath, I walk
forward. After more than two years as an escort, I got the hang of walking in
high heels long ago. It wasn’t easy at first. I’m not as graceful as older
women, but at least I no longer trip on even ground. I’ve even developed a sexy
kind of walk I only use if I want to seduce someone.
An employee at the hotel opens the
entrance for me.
“Welcome to the Marriott,” he says
with a slight bow. For a second there, I almost flash my patented smile. It
would be too much, so I just use my normal smile.
“Thank you,” I tell the man as I walk
past. The air inside is cool, but not too chilly. I look around, trying to find
whoever is waiting for me.
I’m glad I don’t have to wait long. A
man in a suit catches my eye. He walks over to me.
“Scarlet Quinn?”
I nod, feeling myself blush. As an
escort, I obviously use an alias. A guy at the agency came up with it. When he
first met me for an interview, he said that I reminded him of the Scarlet
Witch. With my long chestnut-brown hair, large
natural
breasts, and pale
skin, it’s not hard to see why.
“With tits like those, she could make
any guy bend to her will,” the interviewer had said. He and my boss had made me
strip to check what I looked like. Judging by their looks, they’d definitely
approved. Since then, the name “Scarlet” stuck. And it’s sexy to boot. Quinn
was my idea.
“Through here,” the suited man says.
I follow him to an area inside the hotel. I smile when I see that he’s taking
me to a restaurant. I was beginning to starve.
The restaurant I’m led to also happens
to have a wine bar. I look around, taking in the elegance of the place. The
lighting is soft, not too bright nor dark. With the ample space between the
tables, everyone could have brought a shopping cart and I’d still be able to
walk around in comfort. The walls are wine-colored, which I find fitting.
The suited man and I reach one of the
tables. We stop. There’s another, older-looking man sitting on a comfy sofa
chair. I’m dazzled by the luxury.
“Thank you, Scott,” the older man
says to the one that brought me.
Scott nods, and then walks away. I
look at the man I’m meeting. He’s also wearing a suit. It’s darker in color and
certainly more expensive. The man appears to be around forty or so, and looks
pleasant.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,
Scarlet.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Sit down, please,” he says, opening
the chair for me. I sit, enjoying the softness of the seat, and thank him. The
man pulls an envelope from inside his suit jacket. He hands it to me. I take it
discreetly and put it in my purse.
“What would you like to drink?”
I take a few seconds to decide.
“Wine would be fine. Thank you.”
The man nods, and then motions for a
waiter. He places an order, and the waiter leaves.
“If you don’t mind me asking, sir,
what do I call you?”
“Mr. Osgood would be fine.”
I nod, giving him a smile. Mr. Osgood
eyes me up and down. He gives me a look of approval.
“Tonight, I’m meeting important
people to deal with business matters,” he says. “I thought I’d have a drink
with you alone beforehand, to get to know you better. That way, you can get
comfortable with me, too.”
“That sounds great.”
The wine arrives then. Mr. Osgood and
I talk while we enjoy the expensive wine. Even as a coveted escort, it’s not
every day that I get to drink such good wine.
I find Mr. Osgood to be pleasant. Due
to his age and his job, I thought he would bore me with financial projections
or other random business stuff. It turns out that he makes excellent company.
If he has a wife, she’s lucky to have him. I don’t judge Mr. Osgood for hiring an
escort. He makes me feel at ease. He knows just what to say, and doesn’t ask me
personal questions. I like that.
Mr. Osgood and I have a light meal
before we stand up to go upstairs.
“The meeting starts in ten minutes,”
he tells me. I follow him out of the restaurant and toward the elevators. When
the doors open, we walk in. There’s no one inside. Mr. Osgood presses the
button for the top floor. After a few seconds, the doors close. I look at Mr.
Osgood.
“You’re smoldering, Scarlet,” he
says, drawing close. I don’t mind it. “We’re going all the way to the top, so
let’s not waste time.”
I look at Mr. Osgood, my expression
seductive. If he weren’t twice my age, I would most likely date him. The
money’s not what attracts me. I don’t need a sugar daddy. He just seems my
type.
Mr. Osgood likes my enthusiasm. He
starts planting kisses down my neck. I may be younger, but I’m not that much
shorter. It’s not hard for him to get access to my neck, or lower. His hands
grasp my arms just below my shoulders, caressing down.
My hands move to stroke Mr. Osgood’s
jaw. I like the feel of his light stubble. Facial hair is one thing I like
about men…as long as it isn’t crazy long.
Mr. Osgood’s hands then travel up my
body. He moves from my waist to under my chest, and then stops at my breasts.
He looks at me with expectation. I motion for him to continue, and he squeezes
them. My eyes close of their own accord. I love when men play with my tits, as
long as they don’t do it too roughly.
Without wasting time, Mr. Osgood
grabs the straps of my dress. He pulls down, exposing my upper body. I never
wear bras when I’m on an assignment. His smile tells me that he enjoys this.
“Magnificent,” Mr. Osgood says,
looking at my breasts in awe. That’s a reaction I’m so familiar with. I’d be lying
if I said it gets old. A girl always welcomes flattery.
“And you pierced your nipples. That’s
hot,” he says. His finger delicately traces the curve of one of my breasts. I
smile at his comment. I pierced my nipples because I too thought it was hot. The
little silver barbells look good. Most of my clients don’t mind the piercings.
Some guys enjoy it when they discover them.
Mr. Osgood’s hand moves to my nipple
and gives it a feather touch. It hardens in arousal. His finger strokes the
barbell. When he leans down to take the nipple into his mouth, I gasp in
pleasure.
“Ah,” I say, looking up at the roof
with my mouth open. There’s no feeling quite like this. I close my eyes,
letting out moans of ecstasy. Right now, I wouldn’t mind it if the elevator
broke down. I don’t want it to reach the top too soon. I have half a mind to
play with the buttons and make the elevator do the trip twice.
After he’s finished with my breasts,
Mr. Osgood moves down. I try not to look at what he’s doing. The anticipation
has me wanting. I feel him move my dress back up. Then he lifts the hem up to
my waist.
Mr. Osgood looks up at me, his gaze
burning. I look as his fingers move to my pussy. He strokes my folds, finding
that I have no panties on.