But tonight, I was out of time.

I had somewhere to be.

Panting, she rubbed her cheek on my temple. “Huck, you feel—god, you're amazing!” Grinding violently, she hooked her legs and clamped on. I wondered, if I'd tried to slide free, if I even could have.

I shivered, my balls already tightening. I liked it rough, so did Gina. She was one of my favorite clients for a reason.

Even through the condom, her cunt was milking me. She'd been on edge so long, her release wasn't far. She was a fan of foreplay, and I'd been teasing her for over an hour.

I observed her breathing, her heart. I paid attention to every little thing. My job was to make women happy, and I did it with gusto.

“Fuck!” she squealed, holding onto me for dear life. Heat tingled through her wet walls. It sank into me, my cock flexing with need. I wanted to come, I needed to come.

It was an addiction... but one that was easily solved.

Escorting gave me many opportunities.

Reaching back, I squeezed her ass and bit her shoulder. That was it, Gina was done. Moaning into my ear, she shook and crumpled like a leaf on the wind. Her cunt thrummed, crushing me and sending me over the edge.

Closing my eyes, sparks filled my skull. The pressure in my belly hit its peak, my thick jizz filling the condom. Wave after wave, I pulsed—and she matched me.

I slid out with a wince, gazing down on her elegant face. As delicious as Gina's lips looked, I never kissed my clients. It was too intimate. Too risky.

I'd had more than one woman fall for me. It was bad for business.

Sighing contently, she stretched on the bed and smiled. “You're amazing. Every time, it's just... Yeah. I can't even explain.”

Grinning, I unfurled the condom and dropped it in the trash. In the bathroom nearby, I washed myself quickly, drying my skin. “Glad you liked it. That's my goal.”

Slipping back into her room, I gathered my things. I'd piled them in the corner, save for the blindfold that had drifted to the floor. My clothes were a mess, I scooped up my shirt and tugged my head through it.

Gliding my jeans up my legs, I caught Gina splaying herself over the bed. Tempting me to come back and fuck that pretty pussy until she couldn't walk. “Now, who's killing who?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

She flashed me a wide grin. “Stay, play some more. I'll pay extra.”

Standing tall, I swooped over her like a giant hawk. Hands cupped her long neck, drawing forth a hushed moan. “You would, that's for fucking sure.” Kissing her shoulder, a quick snap of teeth and tongue, I pulled away. Gina was breathing heavy all over again. I really would have loved to bend her over for another round. “I have a gig,” I said, shifting my furious hard-on in my pants.

She saw me do it, licked her plump limps. “Ugh, fine. But the instant you walk out that door, I'll be getting myself off.”

This was a funny way to make me feel guilty. Smirking, I started to tie my boots on. “Why wait?” Setting my eyes on her fiercely, I didn't look away. “Go on, babe. Play with your insatiable cunt for me. I'll be right here.”

Red as a beet, Gina didn't waste any time. Spreading her knees, she opened herself for me and rapidly stroked her clit. It was easy to see from where I was, every bit of her was swollen from my games. “Fuck you,” she panted.

Laughing, I shrugged into my jacket and grabbed my bag. “Next time.” With her frustrated groans tickling my brain, I left her there and stepped out into the air.

It was warm for December, but California always was. Doesn't help that my blood is still boiling, I mused, looking for a way to sit comfortably on my motorcycle with my erection hounding me.

It took me a minute or two, but I calmed enough to rev the bike and pull out onto the road. I wasn't lying, I did have a gig—and for once, it wasn't fucking or fighting. An old friend had called, a lady I hadn't heard from in sometime.

Eliza had fallen off the map. Lots of women became lost to me over time. Her and I, though, we'd had a bit of a different relationship. She was one of the few women I'd spent time with that I hadn't fucked.

A rare occurrence.

Rumbling down the freeway, I thought about what she'd hired me for. Apparently, her new roommate was having a birthday. Eliza had called an 'entertainer' but the guy had stopped responding to her calls and emails. It was nice that she'd thought of me. Stripping wasn't far off from escorting, no matter what the prudes might claim. I knew enough former dancers to see the connected lines.

And Eliza? What was she doing with her life, now? I knew this game of flesh for cash, I was deep in it. Few people ever got out. Perhaps she had, though. Maybe that was why I hadn't heard from her in so long. If you didn't need a bodyguard to watch your back while you were fucking in a filthy hotel room, then you had to be doing something else. Something better.

Right?

The decorated house was in one of the fanciest neighborhoods I'd ever had the pleasure of strolling into. There were kids toys in some front yards, mailboxes with tiny flags. A sparkly Santa sticker on the house proclaiming “HoHoHo” shined in the light of my bike as I parked it.

Up and down the curb were rows of expensive cars. Unless I was wrong, I was about to entertain a packed house.

This might be interesting, I thought with a quick grin.

My knuckles tapped next to the glittery fat-man, louder than the music inside. Christmas was a few weeks off, but these people were partying it up. That was good. I made more money when women were drunk.

I lifted my hand to knock again, but the door burst open, hitting me with unfiltered laughter and squeals. Standing there was a short girl, her brunette hair wound into two braids. Lots of earrings, skinny as a rail, and she smelled a bit like cheap vodka. I'd have said she wasn't my type, except—honestly?

Every girl is my fucking type.

“Hello there,” I said smoothly, wearing my nicest grin.  “I believe I'm looking for a birthday girl. Is that you, sugar?”

I watched the way she hesitated, taking me in—my tight jeans, my fitted grey shirt under an open black jacket—before that familiar heat tinged her eyes. Yeah, she liked what she saw.

Her lashes fluttered, body leaning forward to show me deeper inside her crop-top. “God, I wish I was. You're Huxton, right?”

“That's me.” Lifting my bag, I looked over her head into the house. “How many of you ladies are in there having fun tonight? And how dare you start without me.” I winked, feeling optimistic.

Arching away so I could enter the home, the brunette with her pouting lips and hungry gaze giggled; high pitched, super fake. “I'm Janet. I think there's twelve, including Zoe—it's her birthday.”

Zoe. Cute name. I prayed it fit her. “Should I go say hi, or do you want me to get set-up first?” I asked, peering around the entryway. The house was big, streamers stuck on the walls and voices murmuring down the hall. I was eager to get to the action.

“Uh, what do you need to get set-up?”

I waved my bag. “A room I can put my radio in, for after. Could you go play this CD where the girls are?” Handing her the disc, I ran my fingers over my skull.

Janet followed the movement, maybe wondering how my rich black hair would feel in her hands. “Sure, yeah.” Shaking herself awake, she pointed at a bedroom. “You can put everything in Eliza's room. Is that where you'll be doing...?”

“Private dances, yes ma’am.” My teeth flashed. “Let's not keep everyone waiting. I bet they're as eager as you are.”

Her blush was delicious. “I—uh. Right! I'll go put this on. See you in a few minutes.” She swayed down the hall, wiggling her hips extra hard. She wanted me to stare at her ass. Of course, I was happy to. I'd bet money that even if no one else bought a private dance tonight, Janet would be an eager customer.