ESCORT: A Dark Bad Boy Romance Read online

  I stood up and wrapped my arm around Red’s waist, giving her ass a quick little pinch. It passed muster. I couldn’t wait to spank it red enough to match her hair.

  I called over my shoulder to Finn as I left him alone at the table with a short, dark-haired girl whose hands were already deep in his lap. “Tell the Prez I’ll take the job.”

  * * *

  Back in my room, I threw the girl on the bed and locked the door behind me. No better sound than the click of that lock. It meant I was about to be balls deep in something hot and wet.

  She fell back on the bed, her legs opening up to reveal a flash of lime-green panties underneath the edge of her dress. Her mouth opened as she started to say, “I didn’t even tell you my name. I’m –” But I cut her off.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I told her. “I’m never gonna see you again.”

  I crossed the room in two steps and lowered my mass on top of her. The girl’s tits pressed against my chest while I shoved a tongue down her throat. Down below, I grabbed two fistfuls of ass and began to grind my hips against hers.

  Fuck, she was soaked already, dripping right through her underwear. Her heels locked against the back of my thighs to pull me in closer. Her crotch bucked against the bulge in my jeans, trying to get her rocks off already, and damn near succeeding, if the pace of her moans was anything to go by.

  I wasn’t in the mood for beating around the bush. I jumped off the bed, yanking her up behind me. She let out a surprised “Oh!” as I whipped her around and pushed her head into the pillows. In the same motion, I ripped her dress over her hips and thrust aside her panties.

  Her juices slicked all over my fingers before I’d gotten even a knuckle deep. I felt her tits with one hand while I explored her with the other, getting her ready to take a cock bigger than any she’d had in her life.

  The chick whined and pushed back into my hand so I could finger fuck her deeper. She seemed ready, and fuck it, I was done waiting. I let go of the nipple I’d been toying with between my fingertips and unbuckled my belt, pushing my jeans down to the floor.

  My dick jumped up. It was hard and ready to fuck, so without waiting, I lined myself up and thrust right into her hot cunt.

  I always loved the little gasp that got. It was a rare bitch who took my dick without letting me know how big it was. Damn near scared girls, sometimes, but they always came around to it – and came around to it in other ways, too.

  I laid down a spank on either cheek as I started to plow hard. She shrieked at each slap, but she knew who was in charge here. The moans coming out of her mouth grew louder as she opened up to me and I got deeper into her. She buried her face into the bedding to stop from crying out.

  We banged steadily for a few minutes. I drew out and fell back in with a force on each stroke.

  “Squeeze that pussy on my cock, girl,” I said. She did as she was told, clamping down and shoving back against me so I could reach new depths. I didn’t think she could take much more of me, but she kept trying.

  Good girl. I gave her another little spank as a reward.

  I didn’t bother to flip her over until I was just about ready to bust. When I was two or three strokes away from ripping loose inside of her, I took hold of her hips and spun her around. She was reluctant to pull me out of her, but she fell dutifully to her knees on the floor to worship my cock, sucking and licking the tip as I let a half-dozen hot ropes of come splash into her eager mouth. She gripped my shaft to work the last few drops out of me, until I was done.

  Then I pulled up my jeans and passed the fuck out in my bed without another word. She could stay or go, I didn’t give a damn.

  After all, I wasn’t her fucking boyfriend. I was Ember.

  Chapter 2: Chained

  Selena

  I couldn’t imagine a worse way to get woken up than this: handcuffed, cold, half-naked, sore from head to toe, and with the leering faces of two creeping men taking up my entire field of vision.

  “Buenos dias, chica,” cackled the taller man. He had a greasy mustache that looked like an underfed rat had crawled on his upper lip and died. The teeth between his chapped lips were brown and rotting. All in all, not a face I wanted anywhere near mine.

  I shot backwards, scooting as fast as I could away from them, although my bound hands meant I only got a few feet away before the shorter, fatter cartel member wrapped his sausage fingers around my ankle and pulled me towards them.

  I came tumbling out of the container box in which I’d been imprisoned. The light of the day coming in through the window overhead hit me in the eye like daggers. I squinted and tried to block out the sun. Just as I raised my hands, the tall man pinched my ass. I jerked away from him, shrieking, only to fall right into the arms of the other one, who took the opportunity to seize a palm full of my breasts through the raggedy remnants of my silk shirt. I yelped again and jumped away from both of them.

  I was scared to death, disoriented, and in the midst of being manhandled by these disgusting pigs, thousands of miles from home. How the hell had I ended up here?

  One answer: Daddy.

  It always came back to that, sooner or later. My whole life, that man had been at the heart of misfortune after misfortune. Every time a guy was actually interested in me, Daddy stepped in. Every time I was on the verge of reaching something I’d been dying for, Daddy stepped in. The only times he didn’t intervene to ruin everything were when I needed something from him. Whenever that came around, he was nowhere to be found.

  Like now, for instance. Where was Daddy when I needed him to get me away from the pudgy man currently trying to insert his fingers down the back of my jeans?

  I sprang away from him, on the verge of tears. The two men saw the waterworks brimming in my eyes and laughed harder, jabbering between themselves in Spanish that I didn’t understand.

  Maybe it wasn’t just Daddy who disappointed me. Maybe it was every man, ever. None of them ever stuck around for long. They were just like the two goons who were hauling me down the corridor towards God only knew where – groping, shallow monsters.

  I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror as I was being pushed and pulled through one door after another. My hair was long, blond, and messier than a rat’s nest. Mascara was streaked down my face in big raccoon eye drips. What the hell did these men even see in me?

  “Que bonita, si?” said one to the other as I tripped in front of them and caught myself on the ground. I felt my jeans slip down my ass while I fell. Hurrying to my feet, I tugged the edge of my shirt back down to hide my curves from view.

  That didn’t help, though. It only made my breasts that much more apparent at the top of my low-cut blouse. It was shitty of the cartel to capture me on a day when I wasn’t wearing a bra. Without it, my shirt was threatening to let everything spill out if I kept getting shoved around like this.

  I’d never thought my face was anything all that exceptional, but I’d always taken a quiet pride in my body. I worked out hard to keep everything toned and tight. My chest was still perky and smooth, and in the right pair of jeans, I had a butt that wasn’t relatively awful. I couldn’t even begin to count how many hours I’d spent, naked in front of my mirror, trying to encourage myself to flaunt it just a little bit. But I never managed to convince the doubters in the back of my head, so I inevitably ended up sticking to loose mom jeans and blouses that were big enough to deceive the prying eyes of all the would-be molesters who seemed to hang out on every street corner that ever existed.

  Yet despite all my effort to fly under the radar in my normal life, the guys who had snatched me and brought me down to this godforsaken desert saw right through my flowy clothes. More to the point, they felt right through them, reaching their hands down my shirt to feel me up. I’d never felt so violated.

  “Ass like a peach,” Tall Man chimed in. He slapped my right cheek and laughed.

  “And these tetas!” added his friend, bouncing a breast in his hand as the tall one pinned my elbows back.
/>   Fighting them off was no use. Whenever I managed to knock one back to arm’s distance, the other swept in to pinch and prod me. I was just a piece of cattle to them.

  Men. I hated them all.

  “Boludos!” came a new voice. I spun around to see a broad-chested man looming in the doorway. He had his shoulders squared back like a man in charge. Hearing his words, the two men in charge of shepherding me to wherever we were going dropped me immediately. I stepped carefully away from them, huffing and trying to rake my hair back behind my ear.

  “Lo siento, jefe,” murmured the fat man, not daring to make eye contact. I hoped the pieces of shit were in trouble. It seemed like this was their boss, and judging by his tone, he wasn’t happy with what he’d seen them doing to me. He began to rattle off a lecture at lightning speed. I heard random words that I recognized. Idiotas was the main refrain.

  After a few minutes under his stern gaze, the men apologized and turned back to me.

  “This way, senora,” one gestured. I eyed him cautiously, but followed where he was pointing. Neither of them touched me as I walked outside.

  The heat was oppressive. I could feel myself sweating the second I stepped outdoors. Behind me, the two men grumbled between themselves, throwing an occasional fiery glance in my direction. We walked up to a truck that was parked a few hundred yards away from the isolated building we had been in. I scanned the horizon as we approached, wondering where the hell I was.

  I knew I was in Mexico, that much was for certain. And I had some vague idea of how I’d gotten here. I’d heard Daddy on the phone throughout the last few weeks with men speaking in harsh Spanish. They didn’t seem particularly happy with him. I could sympathize; I knew the feeling. I’d seen that stubborn lip curl of his more times than I could count. When Daddy got that set in his jaw, there was no swaying him. He’d spite the nose right off his face before he let other people convince him to do something he didn’t want to do. A more hardheaded man had never been born.

  Tall Man helped me into the backseat of the truck. I could almost feel the tension roiling off of him as he forced himself not to grope me while I passed in front of him. Once I was seated, they both got in the front, twisted the key in the ignition, and we took off, bouncing down the dirt road.

  In the three or four days since I’d been kidnapped, I’d already been transported to a few different nondescript buildings on the outskirts of various towns. I assumed this was more of the same, so I closed my eyes and rested my head against the window.

  I was surprised, then, when we pulled off the road in the middle of nowhere, next to the shade cast by a sign declaring some illegible warning to passing motorists. And I was even more surprised when I was helped down from the truck, pulled around to the other side of the vehicle, and planted in front of the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen in my life.

  For a moment, I forget where I was and what I was doing here. The desert disappeared and the world narrowed down to the mysterious man standing in front of me. I could feel my jaw hanging open as I drank him in.

  He wore boots and black jeans that fit tight around muscular legs. The leather jacket he had on in spite of the Mexican heat fit snugly around his shoulders and biceps, which strained the material until I could practically hear the fibers screaming. And that face! His jaw looked like it was milled from steel. Blond stubble ranged over his chin and cheekbones, surrounding plump lips. His eyes glinted bright green in the sun, and the messy cut of his golden hair hung shaggy over his forehead. I couldn’t have made a more perfect man if I’d drawn him myself.

  The vibe he gave off reminded me of tigers I’d seen in the zoo. His limbs were stretched across the motorcycle gleaming behind him, as relaxed and careless as the big cats. But there was a sense that, if he wanted to, he could’ve leaped forward and dispatched the greasy men on either side of me with minimal effort.

  He raised a cigarette to his lips and took one long drag. “Gentlemen,” he said as he exhaled. Both men grimaced. I could see beads of sweat shining in the disgusting mustache of the tall one. They were under the same spell I was. This man cast off dominance without even trying.

  “Dinero,” spat the shorter guy. He wanted to sound tough, but the tremor in his voice was obvious to all of us.

  With an easy motion, the biker hurled a backpack into the stomach of the fat one. He wheezed as he caught the bag of cash while stumbling back into the truck.

  The biker then turned and fixed his gaze on me. I froze.

  “Let’s go,” he commanded.

  I didn’t budge. It was like I’d forgotten how to move.

  He jerked his head towards the bike. “C’mon, let’s go,” he said again. At this point, I didn’t even know where my feet were, or if they were still attached to my body. Moving them was practically impossible.

  “Girl, are you deaf?” he said, eyeing me like I was an idiot. When I still couldn’t manage to form words or walk where he pointed, he let out an exasperated sigh and crossed the distance between us.

  His smell was overpowering. It was a musky, deep cologne, with just a hint of sweat lingering on the edge. I’d never been this near to anyone like him before. The few men I’d been close to in my life didn’t have any of the masculine power that this one had. I flipped through my memories, holding them each up one by one to compare:

  Donald, who’d tried to kiss me during a sex scene of the rom-com he took me to see and instead spilled his drink all over my lap…

  Ricardo, who’d stuttered throughout dinner and told me halfway through that he’d bought condoms on his way over, “just in case…”

  Simon, who had been blandly attractive enough that I convinced myself to follow him upstairs to his room and even let him take my clothes off, only for him to fail to get it up enough for us to go any farther…

  The comparisons were laughable. The man standing in front of me was a different breed. One look at his hands told me that he’d had plenty of practice using them to explore, and a quick stolen glance at the front of his jeans was enough for me to believe that plenty of girls had taken their turn doing some exploring of their own. In spite of myself, I let my gaze linger on the massive bulge pressing against his zipper from within.

  He put two fingers on my chin and lifted my eyes to meet his. God, they were so green. I stared back, doing backstrokes in them, getting so lost that I only heard the end of his question.

  “…mute, or just stupid?” he demanded.

  I fumbled to answer. “I, uh, um…”

  “Never mind, doesn’t matter. Get on the back.” Before I could protest, he plucked me off the ground by my hips and planted me on the back of his motorcycle like I was a piece of cargo. I looked down at the beast between my legs. It was all exposed pipes and slick leather. This thing looked capable of chewing up miles like candy. I wondered what it would feel like when the engine kicked in.

  “Adios, pendejos,” he said, raising a middle finger to the cartel assholes as he swung a leg over the back and settled down in front of me. He brought the motorcycle purring into action and used his heel to push the kickstand away. We began to wheel towards the road, right as I found my voice.

  “Wait!” I cried out. I held up my wrists, still confined in handcuffs. “What about these?”

  The man looked over his shoulder and frowned. He turned to the sweating men still standing and pouting by their truck. “Keys,” he said, extending his open palm to them. The short one scowled as he waddled over and deposited a rusty key in the biker’s hand.

  He nodded, then placed a pair of aviator sunglasses over his eyes and faced forward again. The bike eased towards the road, mounting the asphalt.

  I tapped him on the back. He spun around again to look at me. “What do you want?”

  “Aren’t you gonna unlock me?” I asked.

  “Nope,” he replied.

  “What? Why not?” I yelled. But he didn’t turn back around. Instead, he lifted his feet from the pavement and twisted the handlebars. The en
gine roared over my protests as we took off down the highway.

  We didn’t talk as we rode for the next few hours. I was confused as hell by the man in front of me, the man I was clinging to for dear life as we sped through the desert at lightning speed. I tried asking who he was or where he was taking me, but he ignored every question I asked, threw me around like cargo, and refused to unlock the handcuffs latched around my wrists. In that sense, he was every bit as bad as Daddy or the scumbags from the cartel who’d taken so much pleasure in pinching me like I was meat at the butcher’s shop. I was just an object to be tossed around at their leisure.

  But there had been something in his eyes that was just a shade different. It wasn’t the same callous stupidity I saw in the fat man or the tall one with the mustache. I kept coming back to the tigers at the zoo. This man had the same eyes as them, full of purpose and strength.