Page 36 of Blackmail
In my entire life I’ve never been on a real date. I tell myself that’s the reason for my curiosity, even knowing I’m full of shit. Brown eyes and all.
“You tell me. I’m worried that if I say I want to take you out to dinner and get to know you better, you’ll put a hole in my car door in your rush to leave. But making an appointment to see you again through Brennan feels gross and impersonal, given what we’ve shared. I want more than fucking, Simon. I suspect you don’t allow that with the men who pay for your time.”
He’s not wrong. “You’re saying you want to go bowling together and share an ice cream cone?”
“If you want to. Do you like ice cream and bowling?”
“I can’t handle dairy.” Wow. Fuck. I am just sharing all of the sexy details right now, aren’t I? “You do realize I’m a whore, right? And you’re still married?”
“Are you shaming sex work?” It’s tough to tell in the dark, but he looks like he might be legitimately offended.
“Hello, it’s me, Simon. I’m a sex worker. I can say whatever I want about myself.”
“Not if it’s calling yourself ugly names, you can’t. I don’t like it.”
A laugh freezes on the way out of my mouth. “You’re serious?”
“As serious as I was when I told your friend’s asshole boyfriend that I’d knock him out.”
Which he did do, and boy, do I need to give my dick a good scolding later for trying to twitch right now. Perv.
I’m almost embarrassed by the lust that shoots through me. The reminder of that moment sets off a disturbing excitement in my stomach. “That was strangely hot, you know?”
“Simon. I’m only married for as long as it takes to settle the divorce paperwork. No, that is not my way of trying to pressure you into making a statement about Tony. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.”
That’s…actually kind of nice.
Fuck. Part of me wants to say yes. Badly. Nobody’s ever asked me out on a romantic date. But I know guys who’ve done that, and in this business, relationships rarely last long. Sebastian might be acting like he’s cool with it now, but what about when I’ve got some real estate investor paying me to bounce on his dick while I call him Daddy?
“Look, I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me today, but we both know it’s not a good idea.”
Saying the words makes my chest hurt.
Part of me hopes he’ll protest again. That he wants me enough to keep fighting for me. He doesn’t.
My libido’s pretty unhappy as well. While we’re at it, so is that sad, needy farm boy who wants to kiss Sebastian stupid for swooping in and saving my friend today. But that little pushover never knew what was good for him, which is why I can’t see Sebastian again.
“I should get your clothes back to you—” I start.
“Keep them. It’s the least I can do after damaging your suit.”
“Right.”
Well. Since I can’t think of anything else to say, I pull up my borrowed shorts and leave Sebastian with his mouth open. I do my best not to look back as I get into my Jeep and drive away.
Chapter
Thirteen
SIMON
“Look who the motherfucking cat dragged in.”
Sunday brunch is a command performance among the whores of Belle Argo. Probably has something to do with the fact that almost all of us have pasts littered with trauma, so we like to drink mimosas and pretend we’re carefree and fancy one day a week.
As I enter the back room of Gil’s with its cozy lighting and polished reclaimed wood tables, an entire gaggle of whores is looking at me with a heavy dose of curiosity. It’s not like me to come rolling into brunch late. Often, I’m the first one here. I love this place, and hanging out with my weird little band of friends is one of the only times I can genuinely be myself.
But after Sebastian wrung me out repeatedly, let’s say I needed a little extra beauty sleep. Also, after being gone for so long, I had to do a nice cuddle with my cat this morning. She used her claws to let me know how she felt about my prolonged absence, then stuck her butthole in my face.
