Page 22 of Dark Heart


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“There are only two other women... You know I don’t go for volume, but I do like specific requests. Besides, I stumbled into this. It’s not like I’m out there whoring.”

“You get paid for it.”

“I do. I consider it a reward for a job well done,” he says, chuckling. “I’m not doing it for money, baby. I have enough money and a well-paying job,” he says, serious this time.

“Yet... If the other women pay my rate, your little hobby tops your salary a few times over.”

“It does, but I’d fuck you for free any day.”

My eyes narrow with a smile.

“What about the other two? What’s their story?” I ask, handing him his glass of wine.

“One is married and lives in a sexless marriage. And the other one is a businesswoman who wants a reliable dick without the headache.”

I laugh.

“Meaning?” I say, lifting an eyebrow.

He grins, amused.

“You know... Stroking his ego, facing his insecurities, slobbering over him once in a while to make him feel good so he can get it up...” he says.

We share a chuckle.

“You fucking know all that. Why do you ask me?” he murmurs, flashing a playful smile.

“Are you sure she’s a woman?” I joke.

He laughs softly.

“Damn sure. I’ve checked her.”

“Sounds like a match made in heaven,” I say, picking up my glass of wine from the nightstand and bringing it to my lips.

I take a swig.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“So what do they want from you?” I ask.

His eyes slant to me.

“Regular stuff. Getting dick, basically. Some fake romance, thrown in for good measure. Whatever turns them on.”

“What about you? What do you like?”

“I like pussy. Not so much the bullshit that comes with it. I’ve tried it before... Sex and romance. Sex was good, but I struggled with the restrictions attached to a relationship. You know... The things I wasn’t supposed to say or do or whatever. It was tiresome and got old quickly, so the passion died out. It always does when you run empty for a while. And I did for a long time.”

His smile fades, his eyes shifting back to me.

“What about you? What’s your story?”

“You know my story.”

“No, I don’t.”

“There’s not much to it,” I say, a twisted smile creeping across my lips.

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