Little Black Book
Authors: Tabatha Vargo,Melissa Andrea
Little
Black
Book
Tabatha Vargo
Melis
sa Andrea
Little Black Book
Copyright © 2014 by Tabatha Vargo
All Rights Reserved. Printed in the United States of America.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any
hat manor whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events or real people are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Little Black Book/Tabatha Vargo
Editing services provided by
Crimson Tide Editorial
Cover Art by Cover It Designs
Formatting Services provided by
ISBN-13
: 978-1500352660
ISBN-10:
1500352667
Also by Tabatha Vargo
The Chubby Girl Chronicles
On the Plus Side
Hot and Heavy—Coming Soon!
The Blow Hole Boys
Playing Patience (Zeke)
Perfecting Patience 1.5 (Zeke)
Finding Faith (Finn)
Convincing Constance (Tiny)
Having Hope (Chet)—Coming Soon!
Wicked Trinity
Wicked Fate
Wicked Hope –Coming Soon!
The Wrath of Sin- co-written with Melissa Andrea
Be sure to check out more from Melissa!
Darkness Duet Series
The Edge of Darkness
The Grace in Darkness
A Darkness Wedding, Novella – Coming Soon
The Beauty in Darkness – Coming Soon
The Discover Series
Flutter
Shatter –
Coming Soon
A Mortal Sin Novel
The Wrath of Sin
(Co-Written w/ Tabatha Vargo)
EXPOSED
Volume 1 –
Coming Soon
To the sexiest men we
know.
My name’s Sebastian Black, and I want to buy you. I could have any woman I want, but I choose you.
NO RELATIONSHIP,
JUST SEX.
Here’s my offer…
I’ll put your name in my LITTLE BLACK BOOK, and when I want you, I’ll call you. When I call, you’re going to come, in more ways than one. It will be mutually pleasurable for both of us.
There are only two rules:
DON'T EVER DENY ME.
DON'T FALL IN LOVE.
If you do either, I’ll remove you from my book and payment stops.
Do we have an understanding?
One
Sebastian Black
Wilma and Betty fuck like porn stars. I knew from experience, I’d been fucking them for the last four months.
I dug my fingers into chocolate hair and pressed down
, until the back of her throat massaged my slippery tip. A flat tongue added pressure underneath my shaft as a dainty hand massaged my sack. A moan pressed against the back of my teeth and Betty giggled on the head of my cock. The loud slurping filled the hotel room, as she sucked me like my come was the answer for world peace.
Strawberry blond
e hair moved up and down between Betty’s thighs. She moaned over and over again, as Wilma licked and sucked her sweet, pink folds. The wet smacking noises were an aphrodisiac, pushing me faster toward release. It was a beautiful thing to hear and watch—nerve candy for the five senses.
I couldn’t hold back any longer—especially not with two se
xy women fucking and sucking everything in the room. I let go, coming hard and fast with a string of curse words. Both ladies captured my spray, lapping it up like a fine wine, licking their lips as my personal flavor coated their tongues. It was truly a thing of beauty.
Later, with both women asleep beside me, I
peeled back the sheet and crept from the bed. Wilma muttered something in her sleep as I slipped on my pants and buttoned my shirt. My expensive jacket covered my arms and the tie around my neck was perfectly tied. When I left the hotel room, I was thoroughly sated and ready to take on the chaos of New York City at night.
By the time
I made it back to the club, Vick was waiting in my office.
“
You look like you’ve been thoroughly fucked and sucked into oblivion,” she said, pouring me a glass of my favorite scotch.
“Wilma and Betty
…” I hummed. My fingers wrapped around the glass of Johnnie Walker, as I melted into the leather of my favorite chair.
I’d spent
many nights with the redhead and brunette. They were my favorite threesome go-to girls. Wilma ate pussy like a starved woman, and Betty sucked dick like she was going for a gold medal in blow jobs.
“I’m surprised you’re not bored with them yet
,” Vick snorted.
She pulled off her
jacket and threw it across the back of the black leather couch in my office.
“Not yet.” A grin stretched my face and
I swished my scotch around, making the ice clink against the sides of the glass.
Victoria, a
.k.a. Vick, was my assistant, and had been for the last six years. We grew up in foster care together, and she was my right-hand man. We covered each other’s asses when shit got out of control, which it tended to do when we were younger. She was the only person in the world who knew every detail of my life—the biggest hard-ass I knew—and the only woman in my life I hadn’t fucked.
It wasn’t that Vick wasn’t attractive,
she was sexy in a
Laura Croft: Tomb Raider
kind of way; it’s just she was more like a sister to me. I didn’t have any siblings. Hell, I didn’t have
any
family, so our relationship was special, even if I never told her so.
M
en found her attractive. Her long, dark hair was always pulled into a tight ponytail and her wardrobe consisted of black. She had pouty lips that were formed into a permanent frown, and big cerulean eyes. Vick made her resting bitch face look sexy—like she was minutes away from slinging a whip and fucking you senseless.
I kicked lots of ass over her growing up.
Then, I ran away from the system, leaving her to fend for herself. It killed me when I found out she’d earned money selling her ass during the years we were apart. Needless to say, when I became the rich fuck I am today, I pulled her along for the ride. I made sure she’d never have to lie on her back for money again.
“
Any luck finding your Jessica Rabbit?” she asked, fingering the night’s paperwork, putting together figures.
Tilting the
glass to my lips, the smooth liquid slid down my throat, igniting a burn in my chest. I set the glass on a table and stood. “Jessica Rabbit is a myth. There are no Jessica’s in the world, but if I find one, you’ll be the first to know,” I winked. “What’s it looking like?”
She held up a paper with a smile. “Tonight was good
. Ten grand more than last night. Looks like the article in the
New York Times
paid off. Of course, the fact they named Clive’s the ‘hottest new nightclub in New York’ didn’t hurt.”
I took the paper from her and looked down at the percentages. She was right. Clive’s had brought in almost double the revenue from
the night before. The fact I was banking so much on a weeknight meant I had single-handedly built Clive’s into a success.
I’d com
e a long way from the seventeen-year-old punk I used to be. I owed it all to Clive… the nightclub, and the man himself.
When I was nineteen, I
came face to face with the end of Clive’s shotgun. What could I say? I was into some crazy shit. He could have turned me in. Hell, he could have killed me, but instead he gave me a job at his hole-in-the-wall bar and taught me everything he knew about the business. He became like a father to me. The only father I knew, since mine had dropped me off on a set of church steps with a shitty diaper wrapped around my ass.
Sadly,
Clive died when I was twenty-two, leaving me the bar and some old stock and bond certificates. I sat on those certificates as I worked the bar and lived in the tiny apartment above it. It wasn’t until years later, I found out those certificates were worth millions.
I took that money, opened my own place, naming it after the man who gave me everyth
ing, and became the twenty-nine-year-old success I was today. I rubbed elbows with celebrities, and some of the wealthiest men I knew became rich due to my advice.
Women threw themselve
s at my cock, like it was made of pure gold. I didn’t turn anyone away. Until eventually, I got bored with the same tedious women and their dull positions. Taking matters into my own hands, I started a little black book.
Inside my book was a buffet of women who were willing and ready fo
r my call. Each one specialized in something different, and each one was named after a cartoon character of my choosing.
“Okay. Good work, Vick. Go home and get
some sleep. It’s almost three in the morning. If we’re doing this well on a Thursday, you’ll need tons of rest for the weekend.” I set the papers on my desk and turned toward the door. “Also, hire a new waitress. When I was coming through earlier, I saw a few tables waiting for service.”
“I’m on it,” she said, turning the desk lamp off and heading
my way.
Locking the office door behind us, I walked her
to the black Chevy Camaro I bought for her birthday two years before. It wasn’t the most expensive car, but it was what she chose.
“See you tomorrow,
” I said, shutting her car door.
G
oing back into the club, two bartenders were still inside closing up. The lush crimson and black décor made the place look dark and sexy. Once the lights went out, you could barely see your hand in front of your face. The walls were wrapped in blood-red swag and black chandeliers hung from the ceiling like sinister diamonds of light. The twenties-style pieces placed throughout the room, topped it off. It was designed exactly as I requested.
“Goodnight, Mr. Black.”
The petite blonde bartender said when I walked by the bar.
“Lock it up tight,” I instructed.
Taking two stairs at a time, I moved quickly toward my apartment above the club. Not many people knew I lived and worked in the same building, but the paranoia that came with teenage years full of drug slinging, kept me from leaving the club unattended.
Once inside, I stripped down
and went for a hot shower. Eight, strategically placed, shower heads beat my body with steaming water. It felt good to wash away my earlier encounter with Wilma and Betty. Sighing out loud, I knew this would be the most relaxing part of my night, as the ability to have a good night’s sleep had eluded me for years. My history took away all the peaceful moments in my life. Sleeping through the night like a normal person wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. A couple hours here and there was all I needed.
Bef
ore going to bed, I flipped through my book and examined the names—ranging anywhere from Disney and Looney Tunes, all the way to Hanna-Barbera. My eyes landed on the B’s and then bounced around until the name Bambi caught my attention. Losing myself in a wet and ready woman always kept the past from rushing up on me… and it had been weeks since I’d lost myself between Bambi’s thighs. Maybe a change of pace was what I needed. It was time to give her a call tomorrow.
I stood and zipped up my slacks. Shoving my arms into my shirt, I pulled the collar close and buttoned each button quickly.
“What’s the rush?” The seductive voice came from
behind me.
Turning around,
my eyes devoured a pair of long, shapely legs. The perfectly shaved V between her thighs glistened and reminded me that not five minutes before, it had milked me dry. She sat up and put on the purple, silk panties I’d bought her a few months before.
“
This will be our final visit,” I muttered dismissively, tying my tie.
She was developing feelings and
I wasn’t down for that shit, at all. Touchy feely non-sense was something I wanted nothing to do with. Also, I was bored with her, which I remembered was the main reason I hadn’t contacted her for weeks.
She was a bad investment, who had taken an
obscene amount of time getting me off. That was all the proof I needed. Because of her I was going to have to get a quick lunch, verses my usual at Red’s Lounge.
“Excuse me. May I ask why?” s
he questioned, slipping silk bra straps over her shoulders.
Her name wasn’t actually Bambi, but I never a
sked for their names. They were irrelevant. I only needed to know their bodies, and they only needed to know mine. I gave my women a name that suited them. For this chick, Bambi was a perfect fit. Every time she wanted something she’d look up at me with big, pleading, doe eyes. It was annoying.
When I told her Bambi
was her new name, she smiled like it was a compliment. Little did she know, she was just a fill-in until something better came along—my myth, my Jessica Rabbit. She didn’t even get full payment, and thought the grand I paid her each week was worth what I made her do in bed.
I plucked my jacket
from the back of the chair and stepped around the bed.
“Wait a minute. Let’s talk about this
.” She whined, hopping on one foot, attempting to put on her sex kitten heels.
T
he hotel room door slammed in her face before she could stop me. I adjusted my tie and pressed the button on the elevator. An aggravated sigh pushed past my lips and I shook my head when the door opened behind me.
Thankfully, the eleva
tor opened at the same time. She gawked at me with those big doe eyes, clad in only a bra, skirt, and heels. As the elevator doors closed, I could see a mascara-filled tear sliding down her cheek. It disgusted me.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my book and opened it. Licking my thumb, I shuffled through the pages until I came to Bambi’s. I drew a thick black line through her name and number
, and then called to have the payments to her account stopped.
