Forever My Babygirl (Vegas Daddies) - Page 7

And maybe the new Rawley’s a little lonely too.

So, I’ll stay on my path, and get a good fuck in. I’ll just have to pay for it. That way, there’s no strings attached and no one gets hurt. I’m just helping out the economy, supporting local business, right?

One night.

I keep thinking of Sugar Daddies. Where all your dreams are sweet dreams.

Miranda’s become a friend of mine, a happily married friend, thank fuck. She hooks high-paying clients up with dates, and hell...I need a date.

I’ve gone this long. It’s been long enough and I think I deserve a date. Date, being a fancy word for a night of unabashed sex with a hottie who’s only after my cash and not my last name. Clean deal.

I want a warm, willing body hooked to mine for one night, and I’m happy to pay an exorbitant amount to get what I want.

Fifteen grand for twenty-four hours of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Both of ours. I mean, it’s not all about me. Making a woman come until her toes curl, until her legs go weak, until she loses her voice...yeah, that’s my idea of a good night.

Some men gamble. Some drink. Me, I like to fuck long and hard.

I text Sam, Miranda’s assistant, to make sure everything is taken care of and the papers are signed for tonight. She responds immediately.

“All taken care of, Mr. Morrow.”

My heart thumps in my chest, and I actually smile for the first time in ages. Excellent.

A few taps of my screen and I’ve transferred the payment, plus fees, and booked a penthouse suite at my brother’s hotel.

I pace my apartment, making my old basset hound, Baskins, agitated enough to lift one ear. He gives me those big, baleful eyes and I bend over to give him a pet. “Don’t worry, ol’ boy. It’s only one night. Sasha will be here to walk you in the morning.” I hired the best damn dog walker I could find, but haven’t used her for a single social thing...ever. The only time I’ve ever called her was when I was running late at the office.

I stretch and yawn. It’s about damn time I take a break.

Grabbing a bag, I throw a few things inside. Toiletries, clothes for tomorrow, anything else? I figure we’ll enjoy one another’s company, order up food, then be done with it. Satisfied, my needs met, and ready to be alone, I’ll politely dismiss her, calling my car to take her home. Then, I’ll pass out in my penthouse suite, enjoying the place solo till the morning.

I’ll pack light.

I dig through my closet seeing if there’s anything else I want.

Handcuffs? Vibrators? Butt plugs?

How far does the kink go with these girls?

I smile to myself. I read over the contract. Pretty damn far. She’s got a short list of hard limits, and they’re definitely nothing I’d try anyway.

Nah. Just some good old-fashioned fucking is exactly what the doctor ordered. That, and maybe a spanking if she’s really naughty.

I swallow hard and shift my weight, my pants suddenly tight. Down boy. You’ll have your fill soon enough.

I’ve never had a woman call me daddy.

Sounds hot. I mean it’s all just a little role play, right?

Hell, I’ve never hired a woman for sex before. But I trust Miranda and so if I’m going to hire an escort, it’s going to be one of her girls, so, yeah, I guess there’s a first time for everything, even having a woman call you daddy.

I wonder what she’ll be like, what she’ll look like. When I filled out the Sugar Daddy contract, I skipped over the preference sheet, going straight for the little check box that said first available. I know Miranda vets both clients and escorts thoroughly, and I trust she’ll take care in who she sends.

I check the time. Six o’clock. Only two hours to go. Time to head to the Vegas, Baby penthouse and pour myself a little congratulatory drink. By the time the sun comes up I’ll be laid a few times over and ready to get back to work.

My car takes me to the hotel. As it drops me off, I think of the fact that the next time it heads out, it will be going to pick up her. Emmeline. A pretty name for the mystery girl that’s going to help me clear my pipes and clear my mind.

The suite is the perfect place for this night. A massive bedroom, complete with a four-poster king size bed, an outdoor balcony overlooking the city, a bubbling hot tub, all lit up with steam rising from its surface. I can see the city for miles.

I go to the bar. Pour myself a generous serving of scotch. Drink it neat, letting the amber liquid slide down my throat, warming my insides.

There’s a knock on the door. I check my watch. Right on time.

Tags: Jane Henry Billionaire Romance
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