Torment Me (Rough Love 1)

“No.” I didn’t want him to charge W at all, but I worried he was only interested in sex he paid for. Maybe I could change his mind over the next few weeks, change him the way he’d changed me. Maybe we could find our way to some mutually satisfying place.

You’re a dreamer, Chere. An idiotic dreamer. The last thing I needed was another relationship. I’d settle for a friendship. I ran fingers up the underside of my forearm, tracing the memory of his words.

Henry sighed and picked up his coffee. “I think you have a crush on Mr. Cumming. You get jittery whenever his name comes up.”

I glanced at him, wondering how much I should reveal. Nothing. Definitely nothing. He’d pitch into more lectures, and I didn’t want that. “There’s a reason I get jittery,” I finally said. “He gives magical orgasms. And by magical I mean what-the-fuck, ruined-forever magical.”

He looked pleased. “I’m glad when I hear my girls are enjoying themselves. So you’re definitely on for next week?”

“I’m definitely on for next week.”

Henry was so trusting, and I’d kept so many secrets, about the oral without condoms, the apartment, and W’s involvement in getting me away from Simon. I hadn’t mentioned anything about seeing W once I left Henry’s employment. I decided to leave that conversation for another day.

“You’ve been a great boss,” I said. “A great agent. I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”

“The feeling is mutual. If you ever need anything down the line… If you want to come back…” His voice trailed off. “No, don’t come back. Go to school and study for a career that makes you happy. Don’t you dare come back.”

“I’ll try not to.” I let out a long, relieved breath. “Thanks, Henry.”

“You’re sure you want to keep seeing Mr. Cumming? I can tell him you’re done, if you feel done.”

“No, I’ll see him.”

He gave me a teasing look. “The magical orgasms. I remember.” He signaled the waitress for the check, then turned back to me. “You know, I have men at the agency too, in case you get lonely and horny during one of those late night study sessions. My guys are very good at what they do.” He emphasized the word very, drawing it out into a suggestive growl.

“I’m going to be on a student budget,” I reminded him. “I won’t be able to afford your guys, for a while anyway. Whatever job I get out of college won’t pay as much as I made with you.”

“So why are you leaving again?” He held up a hand before I could answer. “I know, I know. It’s clear you’ve thought this through.”

We pushed back our chairs, stood up and hugged. He always smelled amazing, rich and classy like his escort business. He held me tight for long moments and patted my hair.

“You’re going to make me cry,” I murmured into his chest.

“I’m the one who should be crying,” he said. “I’m losing the legendary Miss Kitty. Too bad I’m not one of those evil pimps. I could just rough you up until I convinced you to reconsider your decision.”

I gave him an accusing look. “I think deep in your heart you wish you were an evil pimp, instead of a big-hearted pushover.”

“I’m not a big-hearted pushover,” he said, giving me a little shake. “I’m badass.”

I buried my face in his chest again. “You’re super badass.”

I heard his sigh, and felt it in the rise of his ribcage. “I’ll miss you when you go, Kitty darling,” he said, “but I wish you the best.”

The Gramercy Park Session

The Gramercy Park Hotel was gorgeous, full of art and glittering things. I got there early just to sit in the lobby for a while, with the grand chandelier and rich scarlet carpeting flanked by black and white tile. I’d been there a few times to see clients, but the old Chere hadn’t really appreciated how amazing it was. The new Chere noticed artistry and design.

I watched the door. I’d come early enough that I hoped to see W arrive. I sat out of the way, but in view of the entrance, for the secret thrill of watching him walk across the lobby on his way to our date. Of course he’d look amazing, as always, in his dark, stylish business clothes. I wore a form-fitting, deep green dress. It was demure but not too demure. It was classically tailored and fit all my curves to perfection. I hoped he wouldn’t cut it off.

I thought back to our first session, to my horror, my naiveté. My blindness. How angsty and stupid I’d been back then. Maybe that was why he’d blindfolded me during our last session, so I could realize how far I’d come. He still scared me a little, but he thrilled me a lot more. He made me feel alive and strong, like I could do anything.