Escort by Skye Warren
Publication Date: March 20, 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
There is no shame in pleasure. And no love in business.
I have a blind date tonight, and I know with 100% certainty that I’m getting lucky. There shouldn’t be any surprises, not for one as jaded as me, but when I walk into the penthouse suite of L’Etoile, everything changes. 1) For one thing, Bea is heartstoppingly gorgeous. Pale green eyes and endless freckles. Curves I want to spend all night exploring, as if her body was made for me. 2) Her innocence makes me want to use my entire inventory of bedroom tricks on her and then invent a few more. 3) Except that… she’s a virgin. I can initiate her into the world of desire without letting her get attached, can’t I? A few hours of tutoring, and at the end of the night a small fortune will be deposited into my bank account. Yes, you read that right. There are many words for what I do. After all, mine is the oldest profession. I’m an escort, which means this date is nothing more than a mutually enjoyable transaction. But once I realize one night with her won’t be enough, I’m the one who’s screwed.
ESCORT is a standalone contemporary romance that releases on March 20th!
“My heart is fluttering with all the feelings from this incredible read… I always crave a new story from this author, and this time her gorgeous writing and poignant imagination shine with a unique and touching light.” – Babel, Goodreads reviewer
“Hello,” I call, stepping into the suite.
There’s a thump from the bedroom. A woman pops her head around the corner, all frizzy hair and wild eyes and plump pink lips. She wears a black dress with a startling high neck, lace on top, the kind that a matron would wear—but her skin is perfectly smooth, her eyes wide. This is a young woman. Younger than myself, her clothes an anachronism. Her expression? Pure relief. “Oh thank God.”
She sounds so sincere that I have visions of an orgasm emergency. A deficiency so intense she had to dial a twenty-four-hour line to have it fixed. There’s something undeniably hot about the idea of a woman in dire straits and me the only one who can help.
“Hugo Bellmont,” I tell her, providing a small bow. “At your service.”
And then I give her the smile. Not the megawatt one that I used downstairs. I give her the slow, suggestive one, that lets her know every dirty thing that I’m thinking.
It isn’t fake. It doesn’t need to be. Not with her whispery curls that I’d love to feel in my fist. Not with the pale freckles across her nose that I’d love to track all the way down her body.
Her eyes are an interesting pale green. I want to look in them while I go down on her.
Every single dirty thought is in the smallest smile.
Except she disappears back into the bedroom. “In here!”
How unusual. I’ve never met a woman as hurried about her sexual requirements. She sounds worried, almost frantic, and I haven’t even been here sixty seconds.
I follow her, feeling for the first time in years out of my depth. It’s a nice feeling, a pleasant simmer in my veins. My steps feel lighter across the plush carpet.
At the threshold I barely have time to register the strange furniture. It’s large and antique. Expensive but mismatched. As if they crammed an estate sale into one room.
The woman is bent over a large dresser, her ass perfectly plump. I could fill my hands with her. Could press my new erection against the crease. Except it isn’t a sexy pose.
Instead she seems to be looking behind the dresser.
“It’s okay,” she’s saying, breathless. “Come out, sweetie. You can do it.”
Based on the sweet tone of her voice and the cat dish I spotted on way inside, I already know what I’m going to see when I peek over the top of the dresser. Sure enough there’s a fluffy cat with bright yellow eyes peering up at me.
I don’t have much experience with cats. They were one level up from rodents where I grew up, useful for catching rats and underfoot in dark alleys.
However, my experience with pussies of a different sort translates just fine, because I can see exactly what’s happened to the poor girl. She’s backed herself all the way into a corner, made her body so small she can’t possibly come out.
No matter how nicely her owner coaxes her, it won’t work. It can’t possibly. Something like this isn’t solved with words; it’s solved with a confident, calming touch.
I straighten enough to pull off my jacket. “If you’ll allow me.”