Sell My Soul (Sixty Days 1)

Her sister was tall and pretty, with lush dark waves of mahogany locks down her back.

My long waves weren’t lush, and not quite so dark, but they glossed up nice with some half-decent conditioner. I may not have had the curves of the elder Lane sister, but mine weren’t too bad in tight clothes, even if my hipbones did jut out a little.

I was tall, and my features were even and my eyebrows were groomed well enough that I got regular compliments in the campus hallways.

Maybe, just maybe, I could get a similar rate of pay as elder Lane did for her sixty days of submission.

And if I could…

“You really heard this from Carolyn Lane’s sister directly?” I asked Pippa, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible.

Her eyes twinkled as she shook her head. “Not directly. Through a friend of a friend who knows Carolyn Lane’s sister pretty well, though.”

I shouldn’t be considering it, not even for a second. I was inexperienced at best, my first time being with a guy who’d grown up in the same street and had offered me a sympathetic shoulder that previous spring. It turns out his shoulder was a lot less interested in being sympathetic once I started taking his dick in my mouth on a semi regular basis.

Looking at the girls I’d been thrust alongside in my dorm setup, I realised all over again that I wasn’t made of the same stock they were. My eyes felt old and jaded, having seen too much in my lifetime to carry the same careless joy that theirs did on a night out. I felt aged before my time, weighed down heavy on my skeletal frame by the pressure of trying to rescue my sister from the dregs of drug addiction. The head on my shoulders felt weary and worn, rolled in the dirt by a childhood concerned with domestic duties rather than games in the yard.

University should have been the land of possibilities and a brand new world calling, but was anything but. Not with Phoebe so close to the edge of despair. I guess it’s that which made a sixty-day sentence of horrible men’s whims seem like any kind of an option.

And it did seem like an option. Option enough that I had to hold back a whole load more questions that would have given my college friends too much insight into my desperation.

I buttoned my mouth, faking a smile bright enough to pass as being one of them.

It was okay. The bar was busy and bustling, and I weaved through after them just fine. I was just a shadow in the corner of the beer garden bench, laughing along with the rest of the world.

They barely even noticed when I slipped in a goodbye with a wave.

I wondered if they’d notice if I slipped away more permanently.

Sixty days more permanently.

By the time I reached my dorm room and collapsed onto my bed with a sigh at the ceiling, I was already committed to finding out.Chapter TwoBrandon“No,” I said with a cursory wave. “Not even vaguely suitable.”

Eric let out a grunt and shunted the laptop screen further in my direction. His tolerance was wearing thin, even if he was doing his utmost to keep his classically immovable facade plastered on tight.

That’s the thing about being in business with your younger brother, he couldn’t hide shit from me after three long decades. The other members of our lucrative little fraternity may have been oblivious to his frustrations, but not me. He tapped the screen with a pointed finger when I looked away.

“Nice legs, big tits, dirty glint in the eye,” he muttered just loud enough for me to hear him. “Why the hell not?”

“That’s exactly why the hell not,” I muttered back. He didn’t get it, his raised eyebrow speaking volumes. I fought back a sigh as I began the explanation of what I’d assumed would be plenty obvious to his slowly acclimatising business brain by now. “Look at her,” I told him. “Dirty glint in the eye, sure. She’d be tipping her head back and begging for requests before we were even through with day one.”

“So?” Eric asked. “Would make our lives easier, no? Better than the prim little prigs who’ve never taken it in the ass before. I thought you’d be loving the dirtier girls coming through the ranks. Word must be getting out round these parts loud and clear.”

We were still relatively new to this coastal bolt hole. I personally couldn’t stand the place with its university student population and two-pence tourists, but this was untouched turf, a world away from our last city location.

Six months max in any locale – that was my golden rule. Six months of hot pussy purchases and we’d pack up and roll on to pastures new.

It wasn’t so much that we didn’t have the high-powered network in place to get us out of any criminal allegation shit storms that might rise up to bite us on the ass, but that wasn’t the point. Flying under the radar was safer all round, both for us and the clientele spending a dirty fortune on our freshly sourced goods.