Doesn’t change anything.
When he parks and turns toward me, I’m already opening my door and climbing out, to avoid his gaze.
I can do this. I really can.
Hell, I have no fucking choice in the matter. It’s swim or drown, and giving up ain’t in the cards until I get my whole gang out of this town and somewhere safe.
After that, all bets are off, and I try not to think too hard about that as I follow Raine up to his apartment.
“How do you want me?” I ask, throwing my jacket on the back of the sofa and rubbing my chilled hands together to warm them up. “Shall I strip?”
I want this over with. I’m scared of the way my body reacts to Raine, and not only that. I need more customers, and the quicker I finish up tonight, the better. I’m bone-tired. As the warmth of the apartment starts to seep into me, I have to stifle a yawn.
So not sexy.
Raine hasn’t said anything yet, and I’m still avoiding his gaze, so instead of asking again, I drag my light blue tank top over my head and let it drop to the floor. He’s turned on the lamp in the corner again today, and in its faint light I hope he won’t pay too much attention to my new bruises. Don’t want a repeat of the other night.
I have to remember to hide them, maybe with some make-up base. Mayleen could hook me up, she’s got the biggest make-up stash I’ve ever seen, and not all of it stolen.
Shaking my head, I trail my hand on the back of the sofa, walking around it. Not every customer likes having sex with a bruised whore, much less—
“Jason.”
His voice stops me in my tracks, and my shoulders hunch. Dunno why I’m bracing like this, my muscles tensing.
Okay, not true, I do know: I always tense, my nerve endings burning, when I’m with a customer, and the latest sessions with Simon and Company have done a number on me. It’s just too much. No reprieve. No breathing space. And the itch for the drug is getting stronger, getting out of hand.
This is fucking bad.
Not all customers hurt you, I tell myself and repeat the words in my mind like a chant, but tell that to my body that’s braced for pain. My hand clenches on the back of the sofa, the other curling into a fist.
“Jason?”
Plastering on a smile, I make myself release my death hold on the back of the sofa and turn toward him.
My mind goes quiet. A different tension runs through my body, because shit, he’s hot. He’s shed his jacket, and the way his soft gray T-shirt molds over his broad chest and shoulders is short-circuiting my brain.
Not to mention the worn blue jeans hugging slim hips and long legs, or his face… Damn. The dark scruff on his jaw suits him.
I blink. Lick my lips. That tingling sensation is back, warmth flooding my insides, pooling behind my balls.
Christ. What was I doing? Wasn’t I supposed to be doing something?
My job. That’s right.
“Jason.”
“Present,” I whisper, and hope my voice sounds sexy and not fucking raw. I run my gaze up and down his body for show, then have to drag it away when it snags on the bulge between his legs, my throat going dry. “And accounted for. What will it be tonight?”
He opens his mouth. Closes it. I’ve managed to confuse him, it seems.
Good. I make my move before he puts his thoughts into words. Easier this way. Push them in the right direction, give them what they want before they get creative and think up fucked-up ways to get it.
Sucking them off is the easiest. If they go along with it, they won’t even get it up for a fuck, and it suits me just fine, even though fucking makes me more money.
I haven’t even told him how much I charge. What’s wrong with me today?
“Tell you what,” I say, keeping my voice low, soothing and hopefully sultry as I stalk toward him, trying to decide if I should push him against the wall or have him sit down for more control. I pat the condoms stashed in my back pocket. “Just for you, a blowjob just forty bucks.” Because I’m an idiot. Normally I charge ten bucks more.