Thor (Recherché #1) (10 page)

I watch the front door close behind her and grip the steering wheel tightly. I want to just drive away and not give a fuck, but an uncomfortable feeling has settled in my gut.

I have no idea what I’m doing right now. This is completely out of control. This is wrong in so many ways. I’m not only breaking my own rules, but every ethical standard that would be upheld by any semi-decent fucking person. I stay away, then I bail and see her. I tell myself I’m not going to fuck her and then I do. In my car. Bare back.
Shit!
I slam my hand over the steering wheel and push myself back in my seat. Just drive away, go home, don’t call her again.

I’m an escort and Poppy…Poppy is the girl any guy would give his left nut to have. I close my eyes and all I can see is the expression on her face when she just got out of the car. She looked…ashamed? I don’t know. Fuck, why do I even care? I groan and lean forward, pressing my forehead against the steering wheel. I care because it’s Poppy. That’s all I’ve got. This is unchartered territory for me. In terms of how to handle women I’m figuratively working with no experience. Making women come I can do, but emotions…nope.

“Damn it.” I turn the engine off and shove the door open.

Poppy opens her door with a frown on her face. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Got any wine?” I flash her a cocky smirk in an attempt to cover the fact that I have no fucking clue what I’m doing here.

She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“This.” She gestures between us. “I have no expectations here. Just…” She drops her gaze to the floor. “Sex is sex.”

To a guy who doesn’t fuck without getting paid, sex is not sex. This is not sex. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not that. I don’t know why I’m standing here, but I just know that she deserves better than to feel like it is. But if I tell her she’s wrong, then what? I should just tell her, right here, right now. Explain that I’m an escort, get it all out in the open.

I open my mouth to say the words and then she looks up at me. Those hazel eyes of hers meet mine and the words get stuck in my throat. That look…the way she looks at me…as if I’m something better than I really am. I cup the back of her neck and press my lips to her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, vanilla and something equally sweet. I can’t do it. I’m a fucking pussy, but I can’t. Not yet.

“Ginge, I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. Trust me on that.” Her hand presses against my chest gently and she leans into me. Just one night. One last night.

I wake up the next morning with Poppy’s cheek pressed to my bare chest. I take a deep breath and stare at the ceiling, asking myself for the hundredth fucking time what I’m doing. She shifts, sliding her thigh further over my leg and making my dick stiffen. She shifts again, brushing her thigh right up against my balls. I groan and her shoulders start vibrating before she turns her face into my chest and laughs.

“This is abuse.” I mumble.

She hops up and throws a leg over my waist, straddling my hips. “Poor thing.” She teases, bending forward and placing feather light kisses over my chest. With every tiny kiss, my dick is getting harder and harder. There’s me getting a hard on over the Anna’s of this world. Little did I know that it’s the innocent touch from the right person that really gets your dick pumping. She moves lower, kissing over my stomach, and when she reaches the waistband of my boxers she traces her tongue along the edge in a wet trail. Fuck! All I can think is that her lips and my cock are separated by the thinnest fucking scrap of material. Her fingers hook into the waistband, yanking them down and freeing my cock. It pops out, hard as a baseball bat and more than happy to see her. She looks up at me through her long lashes, a sexy smile on her face. And then she licks me from balls to tip. I hiss out a breath and lift my arms above my head, gripping the wrought iron bed frame tightly. She takes my cock, bobbing her head as she fucks me with her mouth. One hand grips the base of my dick and the other massages my balls. The way she does everything, as though she’s tentatively exploring every inch of me, has me physically shaking, restraining myself from fucking her mouth. I throw my head back against the pillow and blow out a long breath. Jesus, this is like a sweet form of torture. I’m a guy who prides myself on the ability to go for hours, but with Poppy’s mouth on my cock…I’ll be lucky to see out ten minutes. She flicks her tongue over my bell end and I lose it. I can’t help it.

“Fuck, Poppy.” I glance down at her and she hums around my dick. I fist her hair and slowly thrust my hips up against her face, watching my cock slide between those sweet lips. I groan when I hit the back of her throat. She swallows around me and squeezes my balls gently. My balls tighten and tremors shoot down my spine. My body goes rigid tense and I let out a growl as I come in her mouth. She takes it, swallowing everything I fucking give her.

I collapse back on the bed and try to catch my breath. When I open my eyes she’s risen up on her knees and is wiping the corners of her mouth. This fucking girl.

I sit on the back patio smoking a cigar. A glass of scotch is on the table next to me and I’m still wearing the same clothes I went out in last night. Xavier steps outside with a cup of coffee in hand and the paper tucked under his arm. He takes one look at my face and a frown etches into his features. I look away and inhale another puff of my cigar, blowing the smoke into the mid-morning air.

He pulls up the iron garden chair next to me and takes a seat. “Bit early for that.” He nods his head towards the glass of scotch.

“It was a rough night.”

“Client?” He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket removes one before throwing them on the table.

I drag a hand over my face and prop my elbows on my knees. “Not quite.”

He lights the cigarette and leans back in his chair, watching me intently. “What’s going on with you, man?”

Fuck, I wish I knew. “I saw Poppy again.” I say quietly. “Twice.”

He exhales a long breath and a cloud of smoke streams between his lips. “She pay you?” I shake my head. “Does she know what you do?”

I look right at him. “No.”

“Shit, Thor.”

I lean back and tilt my face upward. “I fucked April yesterday and had to imagine it was Poppy just to keep my dick hard.” He cocks a brow while taking a drag on the cig. “Then I went and fucked Poppy because I was that desperate for her. I told you I wouldn’t see her again. I told myself I wouldn’t fucking see her again, but shit, I feel like a damn addict, dude.”

He props his ankle on his knee. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

I huff out a breath. “This isn’t normal, right? To be this…
obsessed
with one girl?”

He shrugs. “Look, maybe you just need a break. Take some time off or something. Fuck this chick out of your system and come back in a couple of weeks good to go.” My gut twists at the thought of using Poppy like a spa break.

I hate the idea that I, Thor Jameson, have managed to stumble down this road. I’m supposed to be the example, the guy that Maddox and Kaden want to be. This job is one that most guys would dream of. The women, the money—it’s everything. Going against it…it feels like going against myself, against everything that I am. And while I’m here, in the house
that
money bought, with the guys I employ for an agency that I built from the ground up…well then it’s easier to push thoughts of Poppy aside. The second I’m alone though, the second I think about her, she consumes me. All I can think of is the way she smiles, the way she moans my name, the way she tastes, the feel of her wrapped around my fucking dick. Shit.

“A break might be good.” At the very least I need to reassess everything.

I get SJ to email all of my clients, telling them that I’ll be away for a couple of weeks and they can schedule appointments for when I’m back. Xavier’s too busy to offer up as replacement. Of course, if they can’t have me, then he’s the natural alternative. Instead I offer Maddox. Anna takes it, a couple of the others book for two weeks’ time and April never responds. I’m expecting her phone call any time now.

It takes her three hours to call me and honestly I’m surprised it took her so long.

“April.”

“What is this?” She shrieks.

“If you’re referring to the email then it’s fairly self-explanatory.”

“And I have to find out like this, via an email from your assistant.”

I sigh. “Yes. As did my other clients.”

“This is about that girl isn’t it?” She asks, desperation leaking into her voice.

“I am not your fucking boyfriend, April!” I shout. I’ve never lost it with her. Never.

“I will pay you double!” She screams. “A hundred thousand a month.”

“April.” I say her name through gritted teeth.

“I need to see you before you leave.” There’s a pleading edge to her voice. God, I can’t deal with her shit right now.

“No, from now on you book through the office like everyone else. Call SJ and she’ll book you in for when I’m off holiday.” I hang up.

I’ve allowed April far too much special treatment. It’s like anything. If a high end customer turns up to your night club you give them VIP treatment. You look after those who will spend a lot of money and therefore heavily support your business. The fact is Recherché wouldn’t be what it is without all the money that April Farley has given me over the years. There comes a time though where you have to take your soul back from the devil. She’s always been intense but I never really cared before. Now…I don’t know, I guess her crazy ownership thing pisses me off. 

So now I’m free of clients for the next two weeks and I’m not sure how I feel about that. Part of me feels like I lost. Poppy got under my skin and this feels like giving up, like I stopped fighting. I throw myself into agency work because at least that makes me feel like I haven’t just given up on everything I’ve ever known.

Early evening the guys start rolling in. Kaden turns up wearing a seriously sharp suit and tie and his usually messy hair is combed back. He puts his invoice list on SJ’s desk.

“Hey boss.”

“Looking a bit slick, kid.”

He glances down at himself. “Oh, yeah. I had to go and hang out with Mrs. Preston this afternoon.”

I lean back in my chair and smile. “What did she have you doing this time?”

He rubs the back of his neck and looks embarrassed. “Uh, I went to bridge club with her.”

I have to laugh. “Kid, if you can go to bridge club for five grand an hour then fair fucking play to you.”

“I also need you to background check a new client.”

I cock an eyebrow at him. “Do you now?” He digs in his pocket and hands me one of his own business cards. Scribbled on the back is a name, address and date of birth. That’s everything I need to know, everything there is to know about a client. It sounds ridiculous, but it’s something we’ve always done in terms of a financial background check. My guys aren’t cheap. The last thing you want is to fuck someone and not get paid for it. Of course when we took Cora on I started to worry about the other side of things. Clients are now fully checked and if they flag with any criminal history then we don’t work with them.

I skim over the details, mainly the date of birth. “Thirty-six. That’s almost young for you Kaden.” He flips me off and I grin. “How did you find her?”

“Uh…” Again he rubs his hand over his neck. “I have this guy…He works with her apparently.” He shrugs. I don’t ask too many questions. If the kid’s happy to do it and the client pays their money, then it’s all fine.

I nod. “Okay, I’ll run it now.”