Inferno Anthology (81 page)

“Mmm… Like an autumn pear,” he said with a grin then he handed them over. They were soaked with my juices so I stuffed them into my purse. “Where do you live?”

That’s it? For $5,000?

Jessica specifically told me I wasn’t allowed to give clients my home address and definitely was not supposed to go home with them, for safety purposes. I wasn’t sure if these rules applied to Chase Underwood so I decided to take a chance. He was either so dissatisfied with me he wanted to get me out of his car or the night wasn’t over yet. I was hoping it was the latter.

“355 Warren… apartment 4,” I breathed, as I attempted to sit upright and check my hair in my hand mirror.

My hands shook as I steadied the mirror in my hands. It had been months since I’d been touched like that by anyone other than myself. Hanging out with Shane for two years had not done wonders for my sex life. I had to lie about this to Jessica during my interview. I actually told her I had been in an open sexual relationship up until last month. Shane gave me pointers on what to say.

I could feel Chase staring at me as I slipped the mirror into my purse. My stomach was in knots wondering whether I had blown this, my only chance to conquer my ever-growing mountain of school loans and credit-card debt. My only chance to get fucked by a man—a hot, powerful man—in almost six months.

The car pulled up beside the curb of 355 Warren, a Spanish-style apartment building on the exterior; tiny artists’ lofts with high ceilings on the interior. I waited for him to say something, to ask to come inside, but he stared at me with an unreadable expression in his dark eyes.

“You can go now,” he said, nodding toward the car door.

You can go now? That’s it.

I glanced down at his crotch as I reached for the door handle behind me. His bulging erection threatened to break through his trousers. I wanted to bend over and take him into my mouth, but he was telling me to leave.
Mixed messages?
No, I definitely screwed this one up. I’d have to start packing my bags to leave L.A. in the morning.

“You can’t wear that,” Shane said, vetoing my sixth outfit.

“What’s wrong with this one?” I whined, holding out my arms to get a better look at my turquoise-blue strapless dress and silver heels in the mirror.

Shane shook his head, which rested in his boyfriend’s lap. Shane’s boyfriend, Jackson Kim, was almost as gorgeous as Shane, but his attitude could be a bit prickly.

“What do you think, Jack?” I asked, spinning around so the skirt of my dress fluttered around me.

“Somebody get Kate Hudson on the phone ‘cause you look like bad chick-flick waiting to happen,” Jack replied, as he lifted Shane’s head off his lap so he could stand from the bed. “Let me help you.”

I tried to pay attention to Jack’s advice as he tossed dress after dress out of the shared walk-in closet and onto the floor, but all I could think of was Chase. Where was he taking me? It had to be somewhere no one would recognize him, but places like that didn’t exist for Chase Underwood. He had to be taking me somewhere private.
His house?
No, the Democratic senator from California didn’t live in L.A. He lived in the hills of San Diego. I remembered watching that on a nightly news special a few weeks ago.

What am I doing?

He’s running for president. Wasn’t that how Marilyn Monroe got herself killed, involving herself with the Kennedys? Oh, great. Now my thoughts were starting to sound like those of a conspiracy nut. This was a bad idea. I had to call him to cancel. If Jessica found out I agreed to go out to dinner with him without telling him to book it through the service I’d probably be fired on the spot.

But… I didn’t have Chase’s phone number. There was no backing out now and part of me was bubbly with glee over it.

I kept thinking of his hands, so soft yet strong, lifting me and positioning me so his cock was at just the right angle. I was getting hot just thinking of it.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to Jack, as he began rummaging through my skirts.

I scampered to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I lowered the lid over the toilet and placed one foot on the lid. As I imagined Chase’s tongue on me, my fingers grazed the sensitive skin of my inner thigh and worked their way up. I drew tight circles over my clit as I imagined Chase ravaging me with his mouth, licking and sucking until… Oh, my god. I was fantasizing about the future president giving me head. This was bad.

I felt like a teenager waiting for my boyfriend to pick me up to go the movies. Chase asked me to stand in front of the apartment building to wait for him. I crossed and uncrossed my arms a million times in the ten minutes I waited on the sidewalk. When the black car pulled up in front of me, the door didn’t open automatically as it had outside the hotel last night.

Across the street, a young guy at a bus stop watched me as I approached the car. I quickly opened the door, just a crack, and slipped inside.

His brown hair was not combed in the usual politician’s clean-cut coif. Tonight, his hair was a little messier, in a sexy way, and he wore a gray sport coat over a white polo and black jeans. It was definitely designer clothes, probably tailored just for his exquisite body, but the casual attire still put me at ease.

“You look beautiful,” he remarked, as his driver whisked us away in our black chariot.

“Thanks,” I muttered, trying not to look down at the outfit Jack put together for me. It screamed
young,
carefree wife of a politician;
exactly the look Jack insisted I should be going for. “Where are we going?”

He smiled, that dazzling politician smile, and my stomach vaulted. “It’s a surprise, but I’ll give you a hint,” he said, as he reached across the distance between us and ran his finger softly over the edge of my ear. “I’ve never taken anyone there.”

A shiver passed over my skin as his fingers slithered down my neck before he pulled his hand away. I wanted to believe that he saw something in me that prompted him to choose me over the other seventeen girls working for Jessica; a beautiful quality I had yet to glimpse in myself. But the cynical part of my brain was telling me to run away from this man before he destroyed me the way he had supposedly helped destroy the American economy.

The twenty-three-minute ride from our apartment toward Malibu went from grungy to breathtaking as we drove along the cliffs on Pacific Coast Highway overlooking the Pacific Ocean. I glanced at him every few minutes to find him staring at me, taking in every inch of me.

I still didn’t know if I was being paid for this excursion, and the astronomical balance on my student loans kept flashing in my mind. I wanted to ask him if this was a real date, but I didn’t have the guts to question the future President of the United States.

The car pulled into the parking lot of a deserted restaurant propped on the edge of a cliff. Even the view from the parking lot was spectacular as the sun set over the Pacific.

“Is this place closed?” I asked, as I glanced around the empty lot.

A smile curled the corner of his mouth. “This is my restaurant. I closed it down so we could have dinner in private. You’re not allergic to seafood, are you?”

I shook my head unable to speak. Chase and I would be alone in his restaurant; a restaurant with a gorgeous view. I felt an intense desire to pinch myself.

“Come,” he said, as he exited the car.

I had to keep myself from thinking stupid things like
I wish he would hold my hand
as we walked toward the restaurant. When we reached the tall, mahogany-framed glass doors, he pulled a single key out the pocket of his sport coat and slid it into the keyhole. He held the door open for me and the smell of grilled seafood and fried garlic made my mouth water.

A man in a black shirt and slacks appeared at my right. “Your coats?” he said, and I hastily removed the ivory blazer Jack picked out for me, but Chase kept his coat on.

He kept his hand on the small of my back as he guided me toward a glass door leading to an outdoor dining area. As soon as we took our seats in our cushioned chairs at the table with the best view of the ocean, another man in black appeared with two glasses of ice. He poured sparkling water over the ice and scuttled away before I could even thank him.

“You’re wondering whether you’re being paid for this,” Chase finally spoke to my worried thoughts.

“What? Of course, not,” I insisted, though the lie felt sticky in my throat.

“Don’t lie to me, Larissa,” he said, and I suddenly felt as if I was eight years old again, being chastised by my father for setting my pet turtle free in the neighbor’s garden. “If we are going to come to an agreement about our arrangement, you cannot lie to me.”

Our arrangement?

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you mean.”

The waiter returned before Chase could clarify.

“We’ll both have the seared Yellowfin. And bring a fruit basket, please,” he rattled off our order to the waiter without consulting me, and with such politeness; it was extremely hot.

When the glass door closed softly behind the waiter, Chase smiled. “I’m prepared to offer you a position in my campaign.”

I thought I knew what type of position, or rather positions, he was going to offer me, but I couldn’t afford to pay off my student loans and my rent on an intern’s wages.

I shook my head. “I can’t afford to work on your campaign. That’s why I took the job at
Black Tie
. I’m sorry.”

The waiter materialized again with a tray covered in bowls of fresh cut pineapple, watermelon, strawberries, and raspberries. He set the bowls in the center of the table and turned to leave.

Chase grabbed his arm and the man looked alarmed. “We are not to be bothered until our food is ready. Is that understood?” The man nodded quickly before he scurried back into the restaurant. “I think I can make it worth your while,” Chase continued as he stood from his chair.

He plucked a strawberry from the bowl and took a bite out of the luscious fruit. He savored it for a moment before he swallowed. He leaned over me and his lips fell softly over mine. The taste of strawberry on his tongue made my stomach flutter as he cupped my face in his hands.

“Stand up.”

I obeyed his command immediately, the feet of my chair squealing as he kicked it across the tiled floor. He slunk behind me, running his hand down my arm as his lips grazed my neck.

I began to panic. What was he doing and how long would it take? How much longer did we have before our meals were ready and the waiter returned?

“I’ll pay off your debts, you’ll get a company car, and I can offer you…” he whispered a number in my ear that nearly made my heart stop. “Is that sufficient, Larissa?”

His hands slid down my waist and over my hips. He tugged the skirt of my dress up and I had a moment of panic as his hand glided up my thigh.

“No panties?” he remarked. “I like that.”

Jack was the one who suggested no panties. That was the “carefree” part of the outfit.

Chase’s right hand slid between my cheeks as his left hand reached for a folded napkin on the table. “Put your hands behind your back,” he whispered. I obliged and he immediately tied the napkin around my wrists. “What is your answer, Miss Jacobs?” He turned me around so I was facing him then he grasped both my arms and forced me to sit in my chair. “Just relax.”

He knelt down on one knee and propped my legs on his shoulders as his tongue explored my slick nether regions. The pleasure burst through my center all the way to my limbs and I tossed my head back. His finger curled inside me, stroking my spot as his tongue caressed my bud with increased urgency. My hips bucked uncontrollably as he brought me to the brink of orgasm and stopped.

A sudden bouncing on my bed woke me and I opened my eyes to find Shane sitting next to me in his boxers with a gleeful expression of triumph lighting up his gorgeous face. Oh, the things I would do to him if he didn’t find girls completely
meh
.

“So… how did it go?” he asked.

I sighed as I sat up and adjusted my ponytail. “I don’t know,” I mutter. “He rubbed my—you know—until I came then he basically kicked me out of his car.”

I couldn’t say the names of female body parts around Shane. It was too much for him. Every month, when I got my period, he basically holed himself up in the café down the street for four days.

“He just kicked you out onto the street?”

I debated whether I should tell him that Chase dropped me off at the apartment. I still hadn’t divulged his identity to Shane.

“Okay, you can’t tell anybody, but the client… it was Chase Underwood.”

“I know,” Shane gloated. “I did a little digging around while you were gone.”

I rubbed my eyes as I shook my head. “Shane, you can’t tell anyone, especially Jessica, but I let him drop me off here last night. I mean, how the fuck was I supposed to say no to Chase Underwood?”

Shane’s hands covered his cheeks as he stared at me in amazement. “Oh, honey, you just hit the jackpot.”

“What? Did you not hear what I just said? I spent, like, two seconds with him before dropped me off at home—and I didn’t even have sex with him.”

“Larissa, if he made you come then dropped you off at home, the man is coming back for more. Besides, I heard he was browsing Jessica’s catalogue for months before he settled on you. I heard Mr. Senator and his wife have
never even had sex!
The marriage is some kind of business agreement between them to further his career.”

“I don’t buy it. There is no way you would know this,” I said, as I sprung out of bed and made my way across the gleaming beech floors toward the bathroom.

A knock at the door made me stub my toe on the ottoman. I looked to Shane to see if he was expecting someone. His eyes were wide as we stared at each other, both thinking the same thing.

“Answer the door!” I whispered.

He glanced down at his boxers. “I can’t answer the door like this.”

“Put on your robe!”

“No! You put on your robe. I’m getting dressed,” Shane whispered furiously as he pulled on yesterday’s T-shirt and jeans.