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"I said," I speak loudly and slowly. "You. Already. Paid. For. It."
"Get your pretty little ass in here." He grabs me by my arm and yanks me into his apartment. I turn and stare as the door flies shut behind me.
"I have plans." I tap my black stiletto impatiently. I was only supposed to drop off this sandwich and then meet some sorority sisters for a welcome back party. This is only my second night back in Boston after being in Paris for months. I need some good, old-fashioned American fun.
"You're going to bail because of it, aren't you?" He turns and stares right through me. "I'm paying you to fuck me. It's going to be worth it, Alexa."
"What?" I steal one more glance at his cock before I decide that being called a two-bit floosy isn't worth the chance to get fucked by that. "What the hell is your problem?"
"Women like you always bolt when they see it." His voice is deep and low. It bites right through me. "The agency said you'd be fine with it when I requested a blonde."
"I brought you a sandwich." I throw the bag at him and it bounces off his muscular chest before it falls to the marble floor. "Your hooker isn't here yet. I'm not her."
"You brought me a sandwich?" He stares at the crumpled mess on the floor. "I thought you were someone else."
"Obviously," I shoot back as I turn on my heel to leave. "For the record, I wouldn't bolt seeing a cock like that normally."
"I wasn't talking about my dick," he growls.
I pivot back and stare at him. "What then?"
"The scar," he hisses as he tilts his head back. "Women always run when they see the scar."
"What scar?" I've stared at his cock long enough to realize that it's perfect and scar free.
"This scar." His hand jumps to his face before his index finger traces a line down a scar running the length of his cheek.
"Is that why you walk around with your cock flying every which way?" I turn the doorknob in my hand. "It's a good tactic."
"Alexa," he says my name just as I'm stepping over the threshold into the hallway. "Stay."
