Discovering Me (Breakneck #4) (21 page)

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Authors: Crystal Spears

BOOK: Discovering Me (Breakneck #4)
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***

 

Scandalous Charges

By Eliana S. Peters

 

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23556755-scandalous-charges

 

 

****Warning****

Lube and batteries are not included with the purchase of this book, but for your pleasure, those things might be nice to have on hand.

 

If asked to describe herself in three words, author Samantha Daley would say dry, barren land. She wanted, no, craved the feel of a man above her, beneath her, hell, behind her. She really wasn’t picky. Her only problem? Having lived with the verbal vomit of an emotionally abusive man, Samantha’s self confidence was smaller than a gnat’s G-string. Enter The Pipe Cleaners, a male escort service.

 

Sebastiano Russo was done, finished, finito. Waiting for Samantha to realize the depths of his affections left him tired of holding back. Not to mention, a perpetual and severe case of blue balls. As her financial adviser, he reconciled her accounts and when he found charges for an escort service, Sebastiano decided to take matters into his own hands. Her matters, that is, which included those luscious tits and curvy hips that he’d fantasized about every night. Hell, who was he kidding? He’d pictured her in his head every time he took his cock in his hand.

 

As Samantha began writing her fantasy, Sebastiano decided she needed to change from past to present and he demanded a staring role. Follow the wordsmith and number cruncher on a journey to sexual bliss. But remember, no trip is ever simply smooth sailings. Some bumps in the road may appear.

Chapter One

 

Scout slammed the door so hard the decorative plates hanging on the wall rattled. “Sadie, you know can’t run from me. I’ll follow you to the ends of the world.”

Huge crocodile tears left trails of mascara down her cheeks as Sadie crumbled before his eyes. “I just couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you because of me.” She threw herself in his arms, and he held her tight as sobs shook her body. “I love you, Scout. And that’s why I have to go.”

“Son of a bitch. Is that the best you can come up with?”

Samantha Daley looked around her office, hoping that inspiration would somehow find her in the hot, cramped room. Instead, her attention fell on the darkness that had somehow consumed the daylight. How long had she sat in this spot, struggling to put words into sentences? The kinks in her shoulders told her she needed to just give in to another endless bout of writer’s block. The rumble in her stomach said she needed food, but damn if she had much of an appetite.

Her lifelong goal of becoming a writer had come true when she’d published her first novel six years ago, but her success had come with a steep price. The sparkle and shine of her dream career had diminished over the last two years and the fun had become more of a chore than an adventure. She found herself divorced, discouraged, and depressed, but she knew the only person who could change any of that was her.

Change. That one word excited her and gave her hope of escape. Escape from her boring, dreary life. Escape towards fulfillment, even if it was only a temporary fling.

Earlier in the week, Samantha had delivered papers to her investment adviser’s office, and his secretary, Jillian, insisted on taking her to lunch. Over grilled chicken Caesar salads, Sam’s quiet friend suggested she try MakeMyDate.com. Jillian insisted Samantha would get her long awaited release with no strings attached. Besides, it seemed Samantha couldn’t be convinced to make a move on Sebastiano Russo. Prim and proper described her to a T.

Because he was her financial planner, Samantha ignored his hot, heavy looks and attempted to keep their transactions strictly business. In the years since Samantha’s divorce, loneliness was her bedfellow and her only action came with batteries. She’d lost count of the number of ways she had fantasized about being taken by Russo. His nightly visits to her dreams would have to suffice for now because Sam lacked the confidence to act on those dreams.

Knowing that the very thought of Russo would keep her from writing any more that night, she took her laptop to her room. After thinking long and hard, and spending time giggling about thoughts of long and hard, she decided it was past time for her to do something about her wants and needs. She was tired of taking matters into her own hands, so it was time to look for alternatives and find a solution. Laid back in her bed, trusty vibrator waiting beside her, she flipped through late night programming on the television while logging into the dating place where her friend had pressured her into creating a profile. The flashing number six beside her inbox shocked Samantha.

Excited, she clicked her way through the pages of available men, hoping to find the next man to fuck her senseless. Her toughest decision would be to choose the beach where they would meet. The Florida Keys would only be a short flight from her hometown of Savannah, so of course, the beautiful Southern beaches made perfect sense. Never once had she ever considered taking the drastic step of meeting a stranger for sex. But she was a woman, and she had needs that she was unable to fulfill on her own any longer. It seemed much simpler than she would have imagined.

The dating site promised complete confidentiality, and the website stated all charges were billed under a dummy company called The Pipe Cleaners. No way would Russo figure out her plans, and besides, weeks would pass before he saw the charge on her Visa statement. Though he reconciled her monthly bills, this purchase would definitely fall under the ‘personal’ heading, and she would be able to escape his questions.

The more pages she scrolled through, the more her frustration grew as she glanced over the profiles.

“Blond, surfer boy. So nineties. Next!”

“Hmm, the shaved head is nice, but I want something to grab. Next!”

She was glad no one could hear her talking to herself as her fingers clicked one profile after another.

“Too short.”

“Too young.”

“Too, just, UGGHHH!!!! Too everything.”

Samantha looked at her vibrator in disgust. Tired of the damn thing didn’t even come close to her true feelings. So much time had passed since she’d had sex with a real, live man that her usual fantasies took longer to get her juices flowing. To make matters worse, she was certain her ex was being fucked on a regular basis. After all, he married his personal trainer the same day their divorce papers hit the courthouse.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt the magic friction of a cock stretching and pounding away at her, and she felt certain cobwebs had grown over her pussy. She hadn’t had sex in over two years, but memories of Jasper’s complaints about her less than stellar performance still haunted and taunted her. Years of his abusive verbal vomit had eroded her once vibrant personality, and now, she’d become a hollow shell.

At thirty-seven, it scared Samantha that she’d had sex with only one man in her life. Left bitter and broken, she struggled to put any effort into building another relationship. She felt too old and out of shape to compete with skinny twenty-somethings in a club or bar. She enjoyed quiet wine tastings and dinners, and keg parties were far from fun unless she wanted to fuck frat boys. Samantha didn’t.

Seriously, the internet and phone call were a whole lot easier than the bar scene. At least this way, she knew that the man she chose would be disease free because the site guaranteed it. And she would get to skip the whole dance floor, grope each other, and then stumble away for a drunken wham-bam, thank you, ma’am.

No thanks. I’ll pass.

She did know that she wanted her brains fucked out by a living, breathing man before she died from sexual frustration and worn out batteries, but it didn’t look like that was going to come from this site.

And then it happened. A profile caught her attention.

Jaxx. Twenty-four years old. Six feet, seven inches tall. Two hundred seventy pounds of muscle. Tattoos, oh, that definitely goes in the plus column.

He was breathtaking, and painfully so. Of all the choices, she knew this was the man for her.

Oh. My. God. He’s a younger version of Sebastiano Russo! Sex on a stick. Yum. I can finally pretend I have my dreams in my hands.

His olive skin tone, dark, wavy hair, and deep, green eyes caught her attention, but the outline of the long, thick cock in his pants promised that her years of fantasies would be brought to life. She wanted nothing more than to climb under the covers with her dreams and never crawl out again.

The imagine in her mind caused her pulse to race, and imagining his dick, she slid a finger under the elastic band of her undies, down between her soft folds, and firmly rubbed her clit. Her panties caught the first drops of cum as her pussy began to weep. She skimmed a finger deep inside, rubbing her walls, and when that caused more frustration than satisfaction, she grabbed her rabbit. With the vibrator moving in and out of her pussy and its ears circling her clit, her free hand reached under and massaged her flowing juices into her ass. After her tiny bud was well lubed, she pushed a finger past the tight ring of muscles and imagined his stiff tongue rimming her. The dart of sinful pleasure had her back bowing and her knees spreading wider to give her better access. Soon, a second finger joined the first in her forbidden channel, and the thrust of the rabbit increased in speed. Picturing his deep green eyes worked magic, and she moaned long and loud with her orgasm.

As her breathing evened out, she finalized her decision to order her date. One simple phone call completed the transaction with no hard work or effort on her part. And for two thousand dollars, a weekend of all the pleasure and fulfillment she could stand would be hers. Samantha felt certain that this would be good for several orgasms, and if her luck held, maybe even two in a row. Though she’d often heard her friends brag about a mythical creature called the Double O, it had always proven itself to be a rumor as far as she knew, but she was more than willing to try, and try again, if any hope of bragging rights were within her reach.

At least this way, Samantha was in control. And this time, she was doing the using instead of being used. So what if she was paying for it. This time, she knew exactly what she was getting for her money.

Too excited to sleep, she jumped out of bed to pack for her weekend away with her boy toy. A sense of shame washed over her as she threw her bathing suit and cover-up in the suitcase on her bed. This move was definitely out of her comfort zone.

What will people think if they find out what I’ve done? Does this make me a whore for buying a man for the weekend?

This whole idea was so unlike her. She had always thought of herself as private, proper, and sensible. She always said and did the right thing. She made sure, even in the worst of situations, people only saw her best, and never did she discuss any of her problems.

Just the very thought of her proper, sensible nature brought a smirk to her face and pushed her to pack faster. When she finished, her clothes were jumbled together inside her luggage, and from what she could tell, there wasn’t one complete outfit, only lots of separate pieces. The unusable, unwearable mess on her bed made her laugh.

Fuck it.

She grabbed a tote bag and threw sunscreen, makeup, a bikini, and toiletries inside, and then Samantha dumped the pile of clothes on the floor of her closet. She’d sort the mess when she got home. Anything she needed while she was there, she would just buy. After all, this weekend was about indulging herself. It had been a while since she’d been spoiled, and now was the time to change that.

***

“What the hell does that woman think she’s doing? I swear she’s trying to kill me.”

Sebastiano Russo ran his hands over his face. Exhaustion seeped through his bones. After another sleepless night, he had given up the tossing and turning, and had come downstairs to check over Samantha’s account. He blinked his eyes several times, and then focused on his monitor again. Nope, I didn’t read that wrong. The words on his screen knocked him for a loop, but not in a good way. Fongool! He wondered what in the hell kind of game Samantha was playing. As soon as he saw The Pipe Cleaners on her credit card statement, he knew what sort of plumbing services she had ordered. He’d seen similar charges on too many other clients’ accounts, and after wanting her for so long, he would be putting an immediate stop to her half-baked plans.

When he first met her, his accounting agency was in a period of strong, steady growth, and because he refused to trust his clients’ money matters to other people, he’d kept a tight rein on each account handled by his firm. This ensured his clients received the quality they deserved and gave him the control that he needed. The only two reasons he took Samantha on as a client was because one of his best accounts had asked it of him as a favor, and at that time, the size of her finances amounted to only a small fraction of what it was today, requiring minimal commitment on his part. Of course, after the international success of several of her novels and one series, TV and movie executives took notice, and her growth then evolved her portfolio into what became one of his largest accounts.

The first time she walked into his office, he saw that she was beautiful, but he had no idea of the genius that lived in her brain. He envisioned her thick cascade of black curls wrapped tight in his fist and imagined the silky smoothness of her creamy skin against his tongue. Her petite frame matched her quiet spirit, but Sebastiano felt certain she harbored a storm behind all that calm. He knew she had fire buried inside her, and her frustration was bringing it to the surface. His cock had hardened at the thought of tasting her as she burned. His hands longed to skim her curves.

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