SWEET HEART Page 3

  “Expensive Ds. Not like yours. They’re natural. Ashton will be very pleased.”

  “Oh.” I blink. She knows my customer? “So, tell me about… Ashton,” I ask her hoping she’d give me a glimpse of this person’s character, at least.

  Katya turns evasive. “I’m sorry, but Franco doesn’t want us to talk about his friends.”

  I’m disappointed. The mystery is killing me. “Why?”

  She shrugs. “Because. But you will meet him soon.”

  “Is he handsome?”

  She smiles knowingly. “Very.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Just right.”

  Okay. That’s some consolation. My cherry will go to a handsome, just-at-the-right-age man, at least.

  “Don’t worry. Ashton is cool.”

  Cool? What is cool about buying sex? But who am I to complain? I have fifty-thousand dollars in my backpack. Nope. I won’t complain.

  Just survive this night, Heart. Tomorrow is a different day.

  Tomorrow you are free.

  Chapter Three

  HEART

  SOME PEOPLE DO LIVE LIKE THIS, like gods languishing in luxury beyond an ordinary mortal’s grasp. This place is even grander than Mr. Bonatti’s suite.

  My customer must be so loaded to afford the only Chairman’s Villa in this hotel. Katya accompanied me here an hour ago and I’ve been exploring the place like Alice in Wonderland.

  It’s unreal, the kind I’ve only seen in movies and magazines. It’s like a huge house 57 stories above ground, complete with its own gym, spa, an entertainment room, an outdoor jacuzzi and it’s own swimming pool. The interior is fit for royalty, polished and plush and expensive down to the smallest ornament.

  I dare to investigate the master’s bedroom. The bed is huge, perfectly made, with not a crease on the luxurious duvet. Pretty soon, I’d be on my back on it. Or maybe not. My cheeks flame. I wonder how Ashton makes love. No, have sex. I hope he’s not too adventurous. I hope he’d only do it once and fall asleep right after.

  God, I hate being afraid.

  I go to the bathroom. It’s preceded by a huge walk-in closet that doesn’t differ much from the shops I saw down at the hotel’s ground floor. I slide one glass cabinet door open. A few suits are hanging from the rack. Ashton is a light traveler, or he’s merely here on a short visit.

  I go to the vanity. Nothing much here, too, just a small bottle of aftershave, his electronic razor and a little bottle of perfume. Clive Christian 1872. I sniff from the lid. The refreshing citrus scent goes straight to my head. I close my eyes at how good it smells. This is how Ashton would smell. I smile and put the cap back on and set the bottle back on the vanity.

  I still don’t know what he looks like. Mr. Bonatti hasn’t told me much about his friend, and neither did Katya. I hope he’s not too big in frame. Or too hung. I feel myself flushing at my thoughts.

  Quit scaring yourself. You have to please this man no matter what. Give all you’ve got. Claim Jigger’s money and be gone in the morning. That’s it.

  Yes, that’s it. By tomorrow, I’d be taking the train to California. I figured I’d need a bit of sightseeing before reaching my destination. With the money I have now, I can afford it. Too bad I can’t bring Mama with me.

  I blink rapidly as my eyes water at the thought of my mother. I know how she had suffered. It was probably her inner desire to rest. And so she did it— took sleeping pills after consuming a liberal amount of alcohol. She had a heart attack in her sleep and never woke up. Consequently, there is nothing that’s stopping me now from leaving this city.

  I’ll make a fresh start in California where nobody knows me, where I can breathe without anybody looking at me like I’m someone’s biggest regret. I’m done being looked down on. I was trash in the eyes of those sanctimonious, coked-up trust-fund girls in school who pranced about in their Pradas and Guccis with pockets full of crack just because I got straight As and they got the F-bombs dotting their report cards like a bad acne outbreak.

  Oh, that. I went to a fancy high school because of a scholarship granted to me by a math and science contest I won in middle school. The prize was an entry into a private school for the rich and privileged kids of Vegas.

  Yes, there is a God, after all, as I’m endowed with smarts to balance the 70% senselessness that’s been my life, though not of my own making.

  Smart? Selling your virginity is smart?

  My little conscience tries to rain on my parade at the last minute, but I’m not having it. Yes, this is a smart move, an investment paying off. I took care of my virginity for so long and I wasn’t going to give it away for nothing.

  Keeping my virginity was my badge of rebellion against the thumbing down and pariah treatment I got all my adolescent life. Nobody was going to touch me like they touched my mother. I carried a little knife with me all the time to make sure no dude was going to think they could get lucky with me. It was a cute little thing, probably wouldn’t kill anybody, but it could certainly draw blood, a fair warning not to mess with this cookie. I used it once of twice to scare off a few jerkfaces and nobody ever tried again.

  But my dreams are bigger than that piece of membrane between my legs. Who pays for a virgin in this time and age when men have been handed the proverbial cherries on a silver platter served with love and devotion to boot? I’ve heard all the nauseating stories from my mother’s friends. When aging Vegas whores get together, believe me, they talk about—hold your breaths— love. Yes. Nobody is immune to good ol’ love, even the queens of the jaded. I used to listen to them in combined amusement and incredulity as I did my school homework. I sure picked up a lot of wisdom from my mother’s sisters in the skin trade, but one thing I did not deliberately absorb into my consciousness was the fantasy of falling in love. Even as a child, I already had ambition. Hard ones. And I knew even then, love would ruin it all.

  Falling in love is for women who have too much time to waste. Not me. Not on my game plan. This is why losing my virginity for a price is easier to accept. The trade off is a chance for a better life. I don’t want to end up like my mother, trapped in a vicious cycle she wasn’t able to escape. Her last resort was death.

  I don’t want to die like that, defeated and battered in mind, body and soul.

  Tonight, I’m going to allow this man to touch me for a hundred grand. I certainly was not going to give it up to some boy in school in the name of stupid love for free. I will make sure this man is happy, so I can collect Jigger’s money, and then I can finally get out of Dodge.

  That’s the plan. Get in the mood, bitch.

  I go back to the bedroom, lay on the bed and wait.

  I’m decked in an expensive white nightgown and a silk wrap, scrubbed, waxed, dolled up and smelling good, waiting for my customer to arrive.

  He’s certainly taking his time while I can’t wait for this night to be over.

  ASHTON

  She’s in there. My gift.

  While playing poker with my new business associates in the casino, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. What Franco told me about her. I was pissed because she shouldn’t even matter. I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole, least of all with my almost 1-foot pole.

  I shake my head at my thoughts. I’m here because I want to get rid of the kid and retire early. I have several meetings with my European investors tomorrow aside from another one with Prem to sign the contract. I really have no time for cherry-popping.

  I feel a surge of heat arrow straight to my groin again. This has been going on all night as I thought about her. My dick is actually interested. After ignoring booty calls for six months, it’s perking up at the thought of a virgin.

  I shake my head. I must be so fucking bored. Gotta get rid of her. NOW.

  I tap my key card on the door lock. I hear a small beep and the door to the suite opens. I walk in, expecting to see her in the living room. She’s not there. There’s only one place she could be. I head for the master’s bed
room, my heartbeat picking up.

  Fuck. Why do I feel excitement coursing through my veins? I feel exhilarated, light as though my feet have sprouted wings. There’s a shallowness in my breathing that’s all too familiar. The more I breathe, the more my balls grow heavier. Full. And it feels good. I forgot the last time I was aroused like this, anticipation building up in my gut, all my senses attuned to my lust.

  Get rid of her.

  The door’s ajar. I walk into the master’s bedroom.

  There she is. The little virgin. Mine.

  The possessive feeling struck me like a lightning bolt. Unexpected. Unwanted.

  I stand at the door, wracked by indecision.

  When she sees me, she lifts herself up from the bed like a goddess awakening from a slumber, a vision in a white nightdress.

  I was not prepared for this. That she’d be so fucking beautiful. No. Exquisite. Like she’s been molded by the hands of a sculptor. Her hair appears on fire as the lights from the side tables reflect on it.

  She doesn’t look like my usual hook-ups— blond, big tits, big ass, big everything. I’ve fucked plenty of those types. They know the drill. I drill them, they ride me, whichever comes first. I certainly didn’t expect this pretty little thing who looks like she just got let loose into the wild by her parents, out of place in this suite with a man like me.

  Her lustrous copper-brown hair frames her delicate face, flowing down her slender shoulders in soft waves, and probably reaching her ass behind. Even with a few meters separating us, her hazel eyes look big and expressive. Her skin looks smooth and soft and has a natural tan. Most probably she has South American blood.

  She’s small. It becomes more apparent when she rises from the bed and stands there as though undecided what to do next. On her bare feet, she probably just reaches up to my shoulders. Her night dress flows down her body, hiding the contours of it, but I know from that generous rack dominating her chest and pushing against the silky material, she’s curvy. Very feminine.

  My cock is taking notice of her physical assets. I feel myself getting harder by the second.

  No. I will not succumb to my peculiar interest in this girl. I’m fucking too old for her. She’s probably just out of high school. But even as I’m telling myself this, I know I’m losing the battle.

  I step into the room and close the door, locking it. “What’s your name? Your real name,” I ask her.

  “Heart…Uhm, Corazon actually. Corazon Alvez.” Her voice is soft and a bit tremulous, but it wafts toward me like a caress.

  Heart. How unique. Suits her, too. She looks like a sweetheart, all right. My sweetheart.

  “How old are you?” I feel obliged to ask, though her answer would probably not matter at this point.

  “I’m eighteen.”

  Too young. I’m thirty-eight going on sixty. There’s a universe of experience between us. But that doesn’t stop me from wondering how she’d sound when I’m touching her, making her wet, making her come. The need to find out is as sharp as my urgent need now to bury my dick inside her virgin cunt. My thoughts are totally reflecting in the thickness and length of my cock now. And I find myself not wanting to get rid of her, after all.

  I don’t do virgins. I probably had one or two back in high school, but I was too ruled by my hormones to even notice. I don’t even remember which of the women I’d had back in the day were virgins. But I do wonder now. I’ve had too much sex in the last fifteen years of my life to actually wonder—how does it feel to fuck a virgin? To fuck this particular virgin for that matter? Would she be tighter than the others? Would I actually feel the difference?

  She’s staring at me with wide, innocent eyes.

  Innocent.

  By this time, I’m a full-blown hard-on from head to toe, ready for action. I’ve lost the battle with my conscience, whatever I had left. Shit. I can’t believe how turned on I am. It must be the thought of her cherry that’s heightening my desire for her. Something out of my ordinary fucking menu.

  “Is it true that you’re a virgin?”

  She looks at the floor. A few beats pass. Then she looks at me again. “Yes.”

  “For real?” Despite the fantasy of popping her cherry, the pragmatic side of me is skeptical. Who looks like that and stays a virgin in Vegas?

  She wets her lips, the tell-tale sign of nervousness showing on her beautiful face. Then she raises her chin a bit, her eyes flashing in defiance. “I am here because of my virginity. But ultimately, it is only you who can attest to it in the end.”

  I slowly smile. Franco’s right. She’s got some sassy mouth, all right.

  I want her. I really do.

  I’ll take this gift, after all, with pleasure. What a surprise. I thought I’d be bored shitless. My dick is telling me otherwise. In fact, it’s so worked up now it’s demanding to be satisfied.

  Let’s see how good she can sass nine-inches of meat down her throat, and growing by the feel of it. Fuck, I can’t wait to stuff her with this monster.

  “Indeed, let’s find out.”

  Chapter Four

  HEART

  ASHTON IS NOT a regular guy, at all. Far from it.

  He’s very tall. Towering over me. He’s big and solid judging from the superb fit of his three-piece suit on his body. He’s utterly masculine and very handsome in this dark, brooding way— sandy brown hair, sun-bronzed skin. He’s maybe in his thirties. He’s so good-looking I can’t take my eyes away from him even if I’m quaking inside in fear, and… I can’t deny it, excitement.

  He walks toward the sofa and sits on it, spreading his legs, stretching his arms on the backrest. Eyes the color of the ocean in summer stare at me, mesmerizing me. I’m rooted to the spot. It’s as though the world stood still when he entered the room.

  Oh God, what am I going to do? I’m blanking out, weakening.

  “Come closer.” His voice is low, baritone. Commanding.

  I take tentative steps toward him. My night gown drags behind me, the slit at the front opening, exposing my legs.

  His eyes roam on my body in frank masculine appraisal. Despite the slimy creatures swimming in my tummy, I know I look good. I force myself to appear confident.

  I must seduce him.

  I stop just at his feet. He’s looking up at me now and up close, his eyes are like blue flames leaping at me, wrapping its heat around me, razing me. My skin prickles with goosebumps, my nipples blooming like flowers under the sun, and between my legs, I begin to melt and throb incessantly.

  I swallow at the strange sensations happening within my body. Suddenly, I feel so wrought up with heat and an ache I’ve never felt before. I can’t describe the feeling. What is happening to me? I must concentrate in pleasuring this man and forget about the strange things happening to me.

  “Why are you here?”

  His voice jostles me from my panicking thoughts. “To…pleasure you.”

  “I see. Do you know how?”

  Oh God, don’t let him have high expectations. How to seduce an obviously very sophisticated man? He’s probably used to women throwing themselves at him. Women like Katya who are beautiful and sophisticated and knowledgeable in the art of pleasing a man. I should have prepared more for this.

  I have to be honest so he won’t expect much. “No…but you can teach me.”

  He smirks. “What, no boyfriend to teach you?”

  I shake my head. Boys were the least of my interests while growing up, and even in high school I avoided them like the plague.

  “Have you seen a naked man before?”

  “Only in pictures.” I’m ashamed to admit I watched some porn clips so I wouldn’t be too ignorant in sex.

  “So, you’re basically telling me that you haven’t engaged in anything sexual with a man ever?”

  God, please, don’t let him be disappointed. “Yes.”

  “Do you touch yourself?”

  My eyes widen, my cheeks flushing. “No!” I gasp. Why is he asking me these scandalous que
stions?

  “So, you haven’t experienced pleasure yet?”

  I want to sink into the floor. I’m tough, but I’m just putting on a false bravado. I have zero experience in verbal foreplay. “What…what do you mean? I’m a virgin.”

  “You haven’t had an orgasm yet.” It’s not a question this time.

  His eyes have gone darker now, and I feel like I’m trapped in the gaze of a predator.

  “Why are you doing this?”