3

Mia

My eyes bulge and a little gasp escapes my lips. Like when I heard the salary, I’m struggling to ascertain whether I heard him right.

“What?” The words barely leave my mouth in a breathless rasp.

“Strip. Take your clothes off for me, Mia.”

Okay… so I did hear right.

I absolutely fucking did, and now I feel like I’ve really hit the bottom. Take my clothes off? What the fuck?

“Why do I have to do that?” I’m breathing hard and trying to steady myself.

“Criteria. Like I said our waitresses are a main attraction at the club. They set the scene and the tone. Sometimes they have to serve our customers naked. Sometimes they have to do other things. Special sexual requests.”

Oh God Chloe, what did you get me into?

What the hell made my best friend think I’d be up for this?

God… even as I think about why, I get my answer. She knows. She knows what my life is like. She knows what I’ve been through. I tell her everything. She knows and knows I need this and beggars can’t be choosers. But is this really the best I can do?

I’m pretty sure those special sexual requests mean I’d be little more than a prostitute on any given night. Is that what I want?

“I…” my voice trails off and I find it again. “Special sexual requests…”

“Yes.”

“That’s part of the job?” My breath hitches.

“Possibly. Mia… at The Dark Odyssey, you will never do anything you aren’t comfortable with. Everything that happens within these walls is always consensual. No one will ever force you to do anything you don’t want to do. We are just liberal and accepting of different tastes and lifestyles. That being said, there is an expectation here of what is normal and considered part of the job and what is not.”

Right… okay. So that being said, what should I do?

What should I do?

“Well?” he presses and looks me over with a stare so scandalous my whole body blushes.

I let out a little breath, set my purse down and try to think of why I would do this.

The pay. Dad. The money… Dad needs help. We need help. I … need help.

After next month there’s no more money left. There was barely enough money to make this month’s payment. All the money is gone and there’s no more coming from anywhere. No more. I thought I’d have a job by now. I really did.

Not getting help in whatever form it comes could mean death. Hector Ramirez and his crew of criminals won’t hesitate to kill all of us if we can’t pay him. Death. That’s how serious things have become. Death is the result of what could happen.

This is nothing. Taking off my clothes and doing what this man is telling me to do is nothing. It shouldn’t be.

The reminder is enough to give me the nudge I need. I take off my blazer and although it’s not cold, the sudden exposure of my skin makes me chilly. I’m wearing a little summer dress with spaghetti straps. I liked the way it carried a smart casual appearance with the blazer. Without it I feel like I could be walking around in the park and when those arctic eyes land on my breasts again, it’s like I’m already naked.

It’s okay. I can do this. It’s just a job. A job.

A job, and the sexiest man I’ve ever met in my life just asked me to take off my clothes.

Sexy doesn’t mean he won’t hurt me. What kind of man just asks you to strip off on the first meeting? And the way that he asked too, as if it were normal, can’t be … well, normal. It’s not.

With shaking hands I look away from him and push the straps of my dress down my shoulders. By the time I get to the little zipper on the side, I freeze because I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m taking off my clothes.

Starting salary fifty to a hundred grand. I remind myself.

With fifty grand I’d get a net salary of just over four grand a month. That would be enough.

More than enough. The payment plan Hector set up spans over three years and we have to pay him a little over two and a half grand per month. He’s the bastard who wanted Carter dead. Hector is an infamous drug lord associated with the fucking Cuban Cartel. I can’t even think about that part. I can’t. Four grand would take care of everything. Dad wouldn’t have to worry about money. I could pay more and clear it. I could clear it potentially.

I pulled the zipper down and the dress floats down to my feet, pooling there, leaving me in just my bra and panties. My little black shoes with the bow on the side now look like I coordinated to match my bra. They’re the same.

Eyes bore into me as I return my gaze to him and he arches his thick brows, questioning.

“All of it, off… now.” He commands in a gruff voice that shouldn’t turn me on. Right now I should hate him, and I should hate this.

If I didn’t need this job I would have run right out that door at least five minutes ago. I would have, no matter how gorgeous he is, or how turned on I am.

Maybe I’m not normal either if I can admit he turns me on.

Maybe I lost reason and sense of logic along with everything else when my life went to hell.

Because it must be the only explanation for my fingers going up to the little butterfly clasp holding my bra together and undoing it. It snaps open and my breasts spill out. The heat that washed over me previously burns me up. I’m so hot I can barely breathe. Avoiding his gaze I back out of my bra and lean forward to take off my panties.

As they drift down my legs I step out of my shoes and stand on the cold flooring. The coldness against my soles cools me down. It cools my naked body down.

I look back to the boss and what I see now is hunger in his eyes. I’ve never had a man look at me like this before. Like he wants to consume me and know me all at the same time.

It’s confusing…

I know I should feel worse than I do but here I am taken with the roil of desire that courses within me and all around me.

Desire made sexier from the way that he’s watching me.

I’m standing here naked in front of him and he’s gazing into my eyes like he’s more interested in finding out what’s inside my soul.

The gaze lasts only a few seconds then darkness fills his eyes. Dark with an element of something sinister.

“Perfect.”

I gasp when he steps forward, and fear knots my insides.

I fully believe he’s going to attack me or something as he advances toward me and I step back, backing into the wall next to the door.

I pull in a sharp breath that hitches in my throat when he leans in close, so close he’s inches away from my lips and he plants his hands either side of me.

The corners of his lips turn up into a satisfied smile and the closeness is too close.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” I plead. I don’t know what he’s going to do and this all feels like it stopped being an interview a long time ago.

“Hurt? You think I’m going to hurt you?” There’s an air of menace in his voice.

My chest rises and falls as I pant and all he does is smile wider.

He leans even closer and moves to my ear. “Answer the question, Mia. You think I’m going to hurt you?”

I hold his gaze and try to speak. “I don’t know. What are you going to do to me?”

“Never ask that question if you don’t know the answer, Angel Doll.”

Angel Doll… the way he said that pulls at my insides and makes my mouth dry.

He looms in front of me again and the spark of energy that catches me is so fierce I have to press against the wall to keep myself up.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t feel that?” he states.

“What?” I lie again. I felt it and I wish I hadn’t because mostly I just want to turn and run away, but the force compels me to stay.

“That insane chemistry we shouldn’t ignore. The insane chemistry we won’t be ignoring.”

“Won’t?”

“Hmmmm. Won’t. No, we won’t..” He moves closer, presses his large warm hands on the flat of my stomach and runs his fingers over the tight, taut skin.

It’s nothing. It’s supposed to be nothing but I feel it everywhere and it makes me wet. He moves to my lips and I think he’s going to kiss me. Only he doesn’t.

That dark predatory look comes back into his eyes and he steps back. I realize in that moment that those eyes of his are like windows, giving me glimpses of his thoughts. They’re not windows to his soul though.

Looking at him and the darkness I see - I’m not sure he has one.

No soul, just a void. It’s not good. But he’s right that what I feel rushing over me is magnetism so fierce it takes over my mind and body. It pushes my soul to the back of beyond with all my dreams that live there.

What I feel is desire for this stranger and it makes me forget.

“Interview first,” he says with a wild chuckle, then his deep masculine voice continues, “I want you to dance for me… Mia.”

“Dance?”

“Nice and slow and run your hands over your breasts. Dance like you want me to watch you… dance and touch yourself the way you want me to… touch you.”

My mouth is the driest it’s ever been. Desert dry and like I’ve been eating the dirt of the Mojave itself.

I stare at him, deep, deep into those eyes of his and the heavy arousal that shimmers in the depths is so enticing it makes me forget why I’m here.

I actually forget as I focus on him and think of his instructions to touch myself the way I want him to touch me. It makes my pulse race and blood heat with the same arousal I’m witnessing dancing in his stare.

It all compels me to take a step over to the dark side and do as he says. I think about the way I want him to touch me, and the way I want him to watch me.

I close my eyes and imagine it, then I start to move and sway like I actually hear music. Soft and faint… sexy and sensual.

Feeling the heat of his gaze on me, my hands do what he asked, moving up to my breasts, cupping them first and running over and down them.

“Open your eyes and look at me, Mia,” he commands.

The need in his voice reaches somewhere deep inside me so I do.

I open my eyes and I see he’s looking at me touching my breasts. That hunger has now hiked up to need.

More than just lust, and desire. Something in his stare captivates me because he looks like he wants to own me.

Possess me and make me his. It pushes me deeper down this rabbit hole I fell into and it’s like I’m reaching out to cling onto something.

I have gone crazy. The shit that’s happening at home has screwed with my brain and I’m not the Harvard graduate anymore.

I’m not the same Mia Chase. I’m not the academic achiever who just wanted to climb the ladder of success and be the best version of myself.

I’m this person, but… not the woman who’s hit rock bottom. I’m the woman this man sees and desires. I’m her and something makes me want to be her and do exactly what he says.

To escape….

“Hands back to your nipples, run your fingers over them,” he speaks in that low rasp again, eyes never leaving my body.

I do it.

I do as he says, moving my hands back to my nipples, making slow circles around the tips. When he glides his tongue over his lips, I find myself wishing he would touch me. Or…Taste me.

His eyes meet mine and I know he knows what I’m thinking. I just do, because like I’m under some damn spell I’m no longer doing what I was told because I was told to do it. I’m doing it because I want to.

I do what he tells me because a part of me needs this, and I’m embarrassed and ashamed to admit it.

He knows.

I can tell he knows and my pussy is so wet, I’m worried I’ll start leaking. He’ll see it and know I’m turned on.

It’s stupid of me to even think that because he doesn’t need to see me leaking to know I’m turned on. He just has to look at me like he’s doing right now.

“Slow down,” he tells me and inches closer, stopping a breath away. “Slowly Mia, massage then squeeze your nipples …slowly.”

I follow his words and suddenly it’s too much. There’s been an ache in my pussy building with tension. Coiling inside me with each second that passes by.

I don’t normally touch myself. I don’t even have a vibrator, unlike Chloe who has a display of all sorts, with an assortment of different shapes and sizes.

The ache, however, makes me want to reach down to my pussy and give my body the release that’s building with every breath I take.

My nipples become sensitive to my own touch and I start panting. I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of him by getting off by myself. I don’t want to but I need to.

I’m desperate. So desperate. The smirk that now appears on his face tells me he knows that too. It was part of the interview.

Part of this game, whatever it is.

I start to catch my breath as the greed rises inside and I slide one hand away from my breast aiming for my pussy. I can’t take it anymore. To my surprise he stops me. Hand clamping down hard over mine.

“No…” he breathes and lifts my arm high over my head. “That’s my job.”

His job…

Fuck… I have to squeeze my legs together because the thought of him touching me is too much.

“And,” he leans closer, grins wide and satisfied as he stares me down. “You don’t touch your pussy unless I tell you to.”

I gasp when he shoves me back against the wall, my hand clasped in his.

Panic takes me again and snaps me out of the wild sexual haze. Not back to reality though.

No, I’m not anywhere near reality at all. Not even close. Close would make me at least contemplate whether he’d hurt me, like I considered before.

I’m somewhere trapped between reality and The Dark Odyssey, which I’m now pegging as some alternate dimension where people lose their minds.

I must be trapped somewhere like that because now I want him to take me and if his intention is to grab me and fuck me, I think I might let him.

He reaches for my other hand, cutting into my thoughts. He clamps my hands above me with one hand and damn is he ever strong.

I open my mouth to speak but once again I have no words. There are no words in my mind.

He moves right up to my ear again and lingers there, brushing his nose against my cheek. My breathing stills when he presses his nose to mine, so we’re eye to eye.

With his free hand he smooths his hand down my side and makes his way over to my mound. Light fingers flutter over the sensitive skin there and I suck in a sharp breath when he spreads my thighs apart and pushes one finger inside my pussy. His fingers move in and out and the suction mingling with my wetness makes my cheeks burn.

He moves back slightly smiling. “Wow, Angel doll, you’re so wet for me and all I did was speak to you. This looks like a very promising business relationship.”

I’m so glad that’s not a question or something I have to give an answer to because I don’t remember how to speak. I simply don’t remember.

I have a stranger’s finger shoved up inside my pussy and he just added another so he can start to finger fuck me.

I gasp again and moan out in mindless desperation. He speeds up and I mewl like a cat in heat, making a noise so unlike myself. What’s worse is I want more.

He knows and he gives me more, adding a third finger to fill me up and moving faster inside me. All the while that smile on his face intensifies.

With my hands above my head I writhe against the wall and him, arching my back so I’m pushing right up against him.

Right up against his hard body and he feels as hard and well-muscled as I imagined. Just when I think I can’t take much more he lowers and brings his mouth over the hard, taut tip of my right nipple and sucks.

“Nuuuuu ….ughhh…aggghhhhh….” I wail, the cry pours from deep inside me. Deep inside and he sucks harder, swirling his tongue around my nipple, sucking like he can taste me.

I throw my head back when he moves to my left breast and does the same thing.

That does it. It does it. I’m over the edge now as a greedy orgasm takes me right over. I come on his fingers inside me, and him sucking my breasts. I come hard. Harder than I ever have in my life and I’m actually pushed close to that edge again when he releases my nipple and pulls his fingers out of my pussy only to lick the glistening wetness off them.

He releases the grasp on my hands and I collapse against the wall breathing so hard I think I might faint.

What might stop me is the fascination I have with him licking his fingers like he’s enjoying some rare delicacy. Like he loves the taste of me.

I can’t catch my breath and he doesn’t give me a chance to either. His hands return to the wall either side of me and he leans close again.

“Congratulations, you just got the job as my personal waitress, Angel Doll.” He picks up a lock of my platinum hair and curls it around his thumb. “You can start tomorrow at seven. Your starting salary is a hundred grand.”

He draws nearer and presses his nose over mine. His hot breath on my skin lures me to want more.

“Ask for Nick,” he adds.

He backs away, lips arched into a wicked, sinful smile and I watch him grab his jacket from the coat rack, shrug into it and leave me.

He walks out the door and leaves me in his office.

The door clicks and the bubble I was floating in pops, bringing in the what the fuck just happened moment with it.

What did just happen?

Oh God… what the hell?

And… a hundred grand to be his personal waitress?

What?