Damaged Goods (9 page)

needed anything to remind me, not with the aftershocks of my orgasm still tingling

at the base of my spine.

He ran his fingers through my hair while I stroked and sucked his cock. “Oh,

fuck, I knew you"d be good at this,” he whispered. “Just like that, baby, that"s

perfect.
Fuck
.” God knew how much of it was an act and how much was true

arousal, but a hard-on didn"t lie, and every time his cock twitched against my

tongue, lightning bolts shot up my spine like he was still inside me.

He wasn"t easy to accommodate, but I managed. The vague ache in my jaw was

well worth every low groan he released whenever I
almost
deep-throated him. His

breathing quickened with my strokes. Soon it was nothing but sharp, irregular

gasps, each shallower than the last, and I gave him everything I had.

38

Lauren Gallagher

“Holy…fucking…oh God…” He drew in a rush of breath, shuddered, and his

cock twitched once, then again. With no sound beyond a ragged exhalation, he came,

and I didn"t stop until the hand in my hair tightened enough to signal he"d had

enough.

I rocked back on my heels while Sabian got rid of the condom. My hands still

shook, as did my knees. How many times I"d fantasized about everything we"d just

did, I couldn"t say, and I wondered if I"d ever be able to walk into this office without

getting pleasant chills. My work environment would probably never be the same.

“So that"s how role-playing works,” I said.

He nodded, running a hand through his hair.

“I can see why it"s so popular.” I laughed. “Now I"ll always wonder what my

colleagues are doing when they take a client in their office.”

Sabian chuckled. We both stood and went about fixing our clothes. While we

did, I couldn"t help noticing his hands were almost as shaky as mine.
Of course they

are. The man just got laid. Doesn’t mean a damned thing.

I wondered, though, as I buttoned up my blouse, what went through his mind

when he did this. Did he enjoy it? Was it all just business to him? Was he numb to it

after doing it for money for so long? Did he spend the whole time wondering if he"d

left the stove on or if he"d taken last night"s DVDs back to the video store?

I wanted to pick his brain. Ask a million questions. Find out how he actually

felt about his job, what he was like when he was off the clock. That was one request

he probably wouldn"t fulfill. Role-play, sex, conversation, fine. Personal questions

about the man behind the sex and satisfaction? Probably not.

Could be worth a try, though.

After we"d both straightened our disheveled clothes and hair, I said, “So, I"m

curious. If I wanted to book you as an actual escort, how much does that run?”

He leaned against my desk. “Don"t quote me on it, but I believe the agency"s

rate is three to five hundred a night depending on how long you"d want me to be

there.”

“I may have to give them a call, then.” I paused. “What exactly does that

entail?”

“Same as any session. You"re paying for my time and company.” His grin

weakened my knees all over again. “Anything you want to do with that time and

company is up to you.”

“Maybe I"ll have to set that up, then,” I said. “You don"t mind me requesting

you by name, do you?”

He laughed. “Hardly.”

Of course he doesn’t, idiot. Every time you ask for him, his wallet gets thicker.

“Well, anyway,” I said. “I should let you go. And I should get back to my real

clients.”

“Right, of course.”

Damaged Goods

39

I smiled. “And thank you. I needed this today.”

“At your service.” He put a hand on my waist, and I rested my hands on his

chest. His kiss was gentle but anything but quick. We both held on for a long, long

moment, lazily exploring each other"s mouths. The hand on my hip became an arm

around my waist. My hands moved up his chest and snaked around the back of his

neck. He touched my face, sending a tremor right through me. It had been
ages

since someone had kissed me like this. Tender, unhurried, like neither of us had

anywhere to be or any reason not to just melt into each other. The kind of kiss that

didn"t say good-bye and didn"t quite mesh with the conclusion of a business

transaction.

As gently as we"d come together, we separated. Our faces just inches apart, we

looked at each other, and for a few seconds, I forgot who we were and why he was

here.

Then we both stiffened. Our eyes widened and we both stepped back. I moved

too quickly and wobbled on my unusually high heels, but Sabian caught my arm. He

kept a gentle grasp until my legs were beneath me.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I"m fine.” I brushed a strand of hair out of my face and laughed.

“Not used to these shoes.”

He glanced down at them. “I don"t know how you girls don"t bust your ankles

wearing those things.”

“You"re telling me.” I glared at my shoes, then shrugged, thankful for

something to think about besides the way he"d just kissed me. “Some girls know

how to dance in the damned things. I"m lucky I can walk.”

“Well, awkward to walk in or not, they
are
sexy.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled. “You"re welcome.” Our eyes met again. He swallowed hard. I

chewed the inside of my cheek.

Then he cleared his throat. “I, um, I should get out of here so you can get back

to work.”

“Right. I guess you should get back to work too.”

“Of course.” He kissed me again, this time keeping it quick and to the point.

Without speaking, we left my office and went back out into the lobby. I

suppressed a grin when Laura conspicuously checked out his ass on his way past

her desk, and I almost laughed aloud when two of the other girls stopped to not so

subtly gawk. If they only knew.

Sabian stopped by the door and faced me.

He extended his hand. “It was a pleasure doing business, Ms. Rhodes.”

“Oh, believe me, Mr. Hendricks,” I said as I shook his hand, “the pleasure was

all
mine.”

40

Lauren Gallagher

Chapter Six

At precisely the agreed-upon time, Sabian strode into the agreed-upon

restaurant in a slate gray three-piece suit, and I nearly dropped my wineglass.

Crisp white shirt, cranberry tie with matching pocket square, and he"d finished the

whole ensemble with glossy black shoes and perfectly styled hair. My God, he

looked like he"d stepped right out of a
GQ
ad.

He caught my eye and acknowledged me with a nod before weaving his way

through the tables and waitstaff. He certainly fit in with the scenery. This was a

five-star restaurant with a house string quartet playing softly in a corner while

couples danced on a small dance floor. It was filet mignon and the finest wines, the

kind of place where someone dressed like Sabian looked right at home. It was

expensive as hell and way over-the-top, but since I was already spending five

hundred dollars for several hours of his company, what was another hundred or two

for good food and wine?

When he reached our table, I stood and he kissed my cheek.

“Wine?” I asked as we took our seats.

“Please.”

I poured him some from the bottle I"d already opened. While I"d waited for him,

my nerves and I had shared a glass, and it hadn"t done a hell of a lot of good. The

“what the hell am I doing?” and “why the hell am I here?” still repeated loud and

clear in the back of my mind.

And the truth was, sitting here sipping wine across a silver and china-set table

from Sabian, I didn"t have an answer. I had no clue what the hell I was doing or

why the hell I was here. Okay, I was desperate for some dinner-table conversation

that wasn"t just a game of mutual manipulation to convince the other we both

wanted to proceed to the next step, whether that was sex or another date. I was

here because I loved dates but hated dating.

It had nothing at all to do with curiosity about this total stranger with whom

I"d shared three of the hottest sexual encounters of my life. It wasn"t even remotely

related to any kind of delusion that I could get to know him or that there was any

point in doing so.

Even if I
had
been curious about him for a while, and now that he wasn"t

expected to “perform” for the time being, maybe I could indulge that curiosity.

I set my glass down and ran my fingertip up and down the stem. “So, am I

allowed to ask you personal questions?”

Damaged Goods

41

“You"re paying for this.” A hint of a grin curled the corner of his mouth,

making me shiver at the memory of what those lips were capable of. “You can ask

me whatever you want. I can"t promise an answer to everything, but you"re welcome

to ask.”

“I guess I"m just curious about your…” I paused. “Line of work.”

The grin didn"t falter. “You know what I do.”

“Well, true. But I guess I don"t know much about…the business. You know,

what it"s like to be an escort.”

Picking up his glass, he said, “What do you want to know?”

“Is Sabian your real name?”

“No.” The single word wasn"t terse or sharp, but just firm enough to let me

know it was the
only
answer I"d get to that question.

“So, um,” I said, thinking quickly, “the company you work for. How many of

you are there?”

“Just the guys you see on the site,” he said. “Eight of us total right now, plus

the two girls who run the place.”

“The madams?” I asked with a cautious smile.

He chuckled. “They hate it when we call them that.”

“I get the feeling you call them that anyway?”

With a devilish wink, he said, “Oh, you"d better believe it.”

“I"m curious, do—” I paused. “You really don"t mind talking about what you do,

do you?” I glanced around the restaurant. “Out in public, I mean?”

“Not at all. You"re footing the bill, so anything you want to talk about is fair

game.” His glance followed the same trajectory mine had. “With some discretion, of

course.”

“Of course.” Truthfully, I was more interested in him in particular, rather than

his job in general, but I was too nervous to dive right into asking. Strange as it was,

though, it was easier to convince myself to ask potentially embarrassing questions

about his job that it was to ask the most benign questions about himself.

“Is it true you guys use, you know, pills?” I asked. “For performance?”

Sabian laughed. “Some do, yes.”

“Do you?”

He shook his head. “Tried it before. Stuff makes my heart race and sometimes

it makes it damn near impossible to come.” Inclining his head slightly, he gave me a

look that made my knees tremble under the table. “What you get is one hundred

percent pure Sabian.”

“Impressive,” was all I could say.

He chuckled and took another drink.

I cleared my throat. “So, what kinds of things have you had to do?”

“Well, no one"s ever asked me to do a donkey show, thank God.”

42

Lauren Gallagher

“Would you if someone asked?”

“Hell, no.” He swirled his wine. “Honestly, a lot of times, it"s just like this.” He

gestured around the restaurant with his glass. “A date. A night out. A

conversation.”

“So, it"s not just…” I hesitated.

Lowering his voice, he said, “No, it"s not just sex. Usually it"s sex or something

close to it, though. One woman paid me two hundred bucks just to make out with

her in the backseat of her car for an hour. Fully dressed, nothing below the belt, just

kissing in her car.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I don"t know what her story was. Didn"t ask, and she didn"t say

much of anything the whole time. That was all she wanted, so that was what I gave

her.”

“Funny, I always thought this stuff was straightforward,” I said. “Pay, fuck,

leave.”

“It can be.” He ran a finger around the rim of his wineglass. “Just depends on

what she wants.”

“And, being out in a car like that, in public…” I raised an eyebrow. “It doesn"t

bother you?”

He shrugged. “Why would it?”

“Cops, for one thing.”

Sabian made a dismissive gesture. “Oh, I"m not worried about them.”

“Even though you"re…”

“A prostitute?”

I nodded.

He smiled and shook his head. “The cops don"t bother us. Worst thing they

ever do is tell us to take it somewhere else.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. They couldn"t care less about escorts, to be honest, and even if they

catch us naked in the backseat of a car or something, they rarely suspect we"re

anything other than a couple of lovers who didn"t feel like going home yet.”

I played with the leather corner of my unopened menu. “Hmm, now I feel kind

of stupid for thinking you were a cop when we met.”