Are you ready to meet Landon Blackwell?
***WARNING*** This novel contains explicit language, sex,
drugs, violence, and sexual situations that some might find offensive. This
book is intended for adults 18+ years of age.
In my world, there is no such thing as love. It is just a
lie we whisper into our client’s ear. Love is foreign and hazardous. What I did
not expect was to bare my soul to a man who is as egotistical as he is
dangerous.
His name is Landon. Despite his blackened soul, he tried
to save me, but what he didn't expect was my torturous fate to catch up with
me.
To your father, I'm the escort.
To your mother, I'm the whore.
To the legal system, I'm the prostitute.
In the end, I'm just the other woman.
I have no idea if I will continue to survive, if I will
ever find my path aside from the gritty streets I know so well. There is a good
chance I will wind up in the ditch like most women in my position. Surrendering
to my fate is the only choice I have. I must relinquish it all.
“What do you think you’re
doing?” I question, my words muffled from arousal. He doesn’t respond, just
caresses his lips along the sensitive skin of my neck seductively, causing my
head to loll to the side. A rush of desire races through my chest, and my
breathing picks up.
“We can’t, remember? You’re
my pimp, and I’m you’re escort. Rules,” I whimper, reminding him of his words
from last night.
He growls, the sound of his
teeth grating. “Don’t ever call me
that,” he rasps into my ear. The heat of his breath causes me to moan. He turns
me around and picks me up, his fingers digging into my dress-cladded thighs.
“What if you’re not my
escort right now? No rules,” he breathes heavily, placing me down on his desk.
“Like, pretending?” I
question, digging my heels into his ass, pushing him closer.
“Exactly,” he whispers,
brushing my hair from my face. “Just two normal people.”
“How do normal couples
meet? What do ordinary people do when they’re together?” I murmur, not having
the first clue how a normal couple does things.
Landon slides his hands up
each of my thighs, pushing my dress up quickly, revealing my smooth legs and
thighs.
“We met on a golf course. I
asked you out on a date,” he mutters, his words drawn out and heavy with his
harsh breathing as I undo his pants.
“I don’t sleep with a guy
until date number three,” I inform him, my hands fisting his hard cock and
pulling it free. My mouth parts when I
see it. I forgot how big, how thick it is. He hisses through his teeth as I
slide my fingers along his shaft.
“Two, because you couldn’t resist me when I
bought you some stupid necklace my shitty-paying job paid for,” he grunts. His
hand dips below my dress and pulls my thong to the side, swiping a finger
between my wetness, causing me to buck against his hand with an uncontrollable
urge.
M.N. Forgy was raised in Missouri where
she still lives with her family. She's a soccer mom by day and a saucy writer
by night. M.N. Forgy started writing at a young age but never took it seriously
until years later, as a stay-at-home mom, she opened her laptop and started
writing again. As a role model for her children, she felt she couldn't live
with the "what if" anymore and finally took a chance on her
character's story. So, with her glass of wine in hand and a stray Barbie
sharing her seat, she continues to create and please her fans.
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