I Hope Ethan Choose Me

LAYLA POV

I'd been working at the Queen's Club for two days, and the place was so decent that sometimes I didn't know how to act or what to expect.

Having sex with the customers was optional here, but for me, it wasn't an option.

"Ready, Layla?" Anna asked me, with three minutes left until we were ready to go dancing.

I'd never had to dance like this before, with choreography and sexy outfits, but here it was done that way, and apart from being paid to dance, we were able to receive large sums of money that were extremely useful to me.

I'm nineteen years old, and I've been having sex with men for money since I was fifteen.

It wasn't my decision, I'd been a dreamy girl hoping to find love with a handsome, caring man who would make me feel like a queen.

I didn't have the best parents; in fact, my dad had fallen into alcohol addiction when I was fourteen after my mother was diagnosed with a rare disease that cost us every damn dollar.

"I'm ready," I said.

She smiles at me.

"Perfect, you look beautiful." Then she turns to the other girls.

"The boys came today."

They all squeal with joy and I raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"Who are they?" I ask.

"They're Baron Grant's men and they're fucking attractive and dangerous," Anna explained.

"And they fuck damn well," Laura said, running her tongue over her lips.

Others nodded.

"Especially Ethan," said another.

"He fuck's like a fucking beast."

If they were Baron's men, they probably had good money; I just hoped one of them would pick me; I didn't care who; I just cared that they paid me well.

When we walked onto the stage, the place was already packed with businessmen, their shirts slightly unbuttoned, a clear indication they'd just left their executive jobs.

Some of them were bosses of major companies in the city, they told me as I performed oral sex on them and looked at them like they were Gods.

I'd practiced that look enough to know that when I looked at them like that, they paid more. I'd also noticed men's varied tastes:

The ones who talked the most paid the most when they felt I was wet for them, I must have gotten wet twice.

None of them ever got me wet, no matter how attractive they were.

I just don't think I can feel pleasure with a man, not after my first time being raped for a couple of dollars that would be paid for my mother's first treatment session.

It was supposed to be just that one time, it was supposed to...

I shake my head slowly; this isn't the time to start reminiscing about those moments.

We began to dance.

I was good at it, and I looked at the men sensually, hoping one of Baron's men would choose me.

When the dance was over, I was walking towards a man who had called me, until one of the girls approached me.

"They asked for you in the VIP," she said.

We both went up, and I felt a little anxious about what I was going to see and about their tastes; above all, I mean, they are men who kill without thinking; violence is their lifestyle, and I imagine fuck is also violent.

I was used to it, but there was one thing I'd never let them do to me: get fucked from behind.

It was as if keeping that for myself softened a little of everything they'd taken from me.

And it wasn't easy; men who pay for whores like to use, like everywhere, but so far I'd managed it, and I hoped it would always be that way.

There are five men in the VIP room.

They all radiate an aura of danger with their malicious grins.

There's a giant man with a scar across his face, which doesn't make him any less attractive, but he's still scary as hell with that look.

Anna has his arms wrapped around him and looks so comfortable that I don't think she's faking it.

The truth is that none of the girls here look uncomfortable.

After all, they were waiting for them.

"Come here," a man's hoarse voice calls my attention.

His dark hair and almost black eyes look at me with interest, he scans my entire body and gives a small nod as if he likes what he sees.

I walk over to him and sit on his lap as he pats it.

His scent enters my nostrils, and it smells so good; it smells like danger, and I like it so much that I'm embarrassed by it.

He's very attractive and young.

His intense gaze makes me nervous, but not in a bad way.

"I've never seen you before, baby," he whispers in my ear as he brushes my hair off my shoulder.

"What's your name?"

Layla

"Layla," my name on his lips sounds like a caress, and I feel the need to close my eyes.

"You are very beautiful."

His hand begins to caress my chin and cheek.

He moves down to my neck and wraps his arms around it with dominance, and I like it.

I parted my lips to let out the air I'd held back from his grip, and his eyes immediately went to my mouth.

He looks at me again, and his eyes are even darker, and it's like a promise of what he'll do to me.

"I thought you were going to choose me, Ethan," Melissa purrs.

I look at him again.

So, he's Ethan.

The memory of one of the girls saying he fuck like a beast comes to mind, and my pussy tightens in response.

I'm surprised by my reaction because I don't usually get turned on when I'm with a client and I've never had a boyfriend.

Men don't settle down with women like me.

And it's not something I'm worried about at this point in my life, I don't dream of Prince Charming anymore.

"I don't like it when they shout so much," he says, still looking at me.

I hear gasping and laughter.

"Are you the kind of screamer, honey?" he asks me with a mischievous smile.

I shrug slowly.

"You'll have to find out," I whisper in a sensual voice.

His eyes shine.

He lifts me in his arms as if I weighed nothing, a surprised gasp escapes my lips, and I laugh helplessly.

I wrap my legs around his waist, and he braces me with his hands on my butt; purr comes from the back of his throat.

"I like your ass," he said, caressing it.

"I want to leave marks on this little ass."

The way he speaks to me and touches me doesn't disgust me; in fact, I'm even looking forward to what will happen next.

"Have fun!" they shout at us.

But I can't stop looking at Ethan and his dark smile.

I can't stop feeling his hands on my ass, his breath on my neck, and his eyes on me.

Fear rises in me because this is something that has never happened to me before.

We entered a room, and he dropped me onto the bed.

He pulled his shirt over his head and showed me his defined chest in all its splendor.

I'd seen his arms were muscular, but it didn't do them justice.

The V of his hips invited me to lick him, and I wanted to do all those things on my initiative, not just because he was going to pay me.

That thorn in my chest stirs at the thought, as it always does.

"Do you want to play, honey?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

I nod and get out of bed to stand in front of him.

I'm shorter than him, at least two heads short.

I bring my hands up to his neck and caress it, moving down his chest, his hard abs, the V of his hips, and then back up.

Ethan fists my hair, forcing my head back to look at me.

My scalp burns, but so does my pussy.

He brings his face close to mine until his breath caresses my lips.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he growls.

As if I were your fucking god.

I was surprised by his words because I hadn't realized the way I was looking at him.

I don't want him to get angry; I want him to keep touching me because of what he's making me feel I've never experienced before.

"Aren't you?" he ask in a whisper.

He stares at me for a few seconds, which seems like an eternity, then grins like a wolf watching it prey.

He lowers one of his hands to my ass and squeezes it hard.

I am, darling and he kisses me.

He kisses me hard, passionately, in a way that consumes me completely.

I've never been kissed like that before, despite the many men I've been with, yet I wish I had never done it because, after that kiss, I was never the same again.