Be My Babygirl

It’s not lost on me that in order to retrieve my glass from the low coffee table, I’ll have to bend over. Why not give him his money’s worth?

I swish my hips as I walk over to the table. Being sure to angle my bottom at him, I bend at the waist, reaching for my glass slowly.

When I have the wine in my hand, I turn back to face him. “May I have a drink of my wine, now? Sir?”

“You may.” He watches my lips with the cool confidence of someone who wins their conquests.

I take a long sip from the glass, letting the chilled, tangy liquid slide down my throat. Licking my bottom lip with the tip of my tongue, I say, “Delicious.”

“I thought we could enjoy the hot tub.” He extends his arm to me, offering it. I take it, holding my wine glass in my hand.

I look at his suit pants and crisp white shirt. “Are you coming in too?”

“I’ll enjoy it more sitting where I can see the full view of what I’ve treated myself to this evening.”

He means me. My body. I’m the treat. Whoa.

He leads me out of the living room, and a wall of glass doors disappears with his one-word command: Open. The spotless panels move to the side, as if on a track, and the night breeze blows by my flushed cheeks. We step out onto the massive veranda and I’m taken with the view of the city. Lights and buildings stretch for miles, the dusky blue sky spreading behind it like a backdrop of a painting. The walls around the outdoor pavilion are all made of glass. Making me feel as if we are floating over Vegas.

Before me, sunk into the concrete ground, is a bubbling hot tub, the water aqua blue, lit from below. Steam rises from the water, inviting me in.

“Will anyone see me naked?”

“No,” he says, his jaw ticking. “We can see out, but they can’t see in.” He scowls. “Do you think I’d share you with the world so easily?”

Ooh. Possessive. I like.

Holding onto his arm, I lower myself down into the tub. The temperature is perfect, the water warming my body as the jets massage my back. As I rest back in the curved seat, I take another sip of wine. The cool air, the crisp, sweet drink, combined with the warm water is a heavenly sensation.

And having his gaze on me, admiring me, watching my naked body in the water is as sinful an experience as I’ve ever had.

I’m an open book, with the exception of one little secret that I’ve kept buried deep inside, hidden from my readers; I’m not as experienced in the art of lovemaking as my steamy novels would suggest.

If I was an ice cream flavor, I’d be vanilla—no kinkasaurus Rex, here. I just happen to be blessed with a vivid imagination.

I didn’t think about it until this moment, and now that I do, I realize it could prove to be a very big problem. Do I tell him now? Or wait and see if I am capable of playing by his rules, keeping up this charade that I’m equipped to be an escort?

I choose... wine.

I take another long, slow sip, calming my nerves with the sweet nectar and the enchanting view of the city.

He takes a seat in a sleek black lounge chair across from me. Kicking up his feet, he crosses his long legs at the ankles. He stretches out, bending his elbows and resting his hands behind his head. His gaze drifts upwards taking in the sky.

Then, it finds me.

I’m not sure how much coverage the bubbles are providing me. Heat rises in my cheeks, and luckily it can be explained away by the heat of the water.

But that’s not what has my breaths coming in heavier bursts, my heart beating harder, my face flushing further.

It’s him. The way he carries himself. The way he looks at me. The latent anger and power in every movement.

His gaze is hunger, possession, and something else I’ve not seen in the eyes of a man before. Perhaps it's because he’s older than I am, more experienced. Or maybe there's something very different about this man, something that sets him apart from the other billionaire playboys.

And I need to find out what it is. After all, I have a novel to write.

“So, what’s a guy like you doing without a date on a night like this?” I take another sip of wine. My hand moves through the water, my fingers trailing through the bubbles. “Surely you have your pick of women in Vegas.”

He breaks my gaze for a moment. Then, he’s back, his tone gruff. “I’ll be the one asking the questions tonight. Let’s start with this one—how did you come to be an escort?”