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CHAPTER
ONE
Amelia
The cool airblowing through the open window of my bedroom soothes my sweat-laced skin while I watch the handsome Senator MaCaffery adjusting his tie in the mirror hanging above my dresser. He has a satisfied twinkle in his deep sapphire blue eyes and a boyish grin on his lips. The same pair of lips that, just an hour ago, were devouring my ass. If the great state of Mississippi knew the dirty shit their sweet wonderful Senator was into, they sure as fuck wouldn’t be backing him for the next President of the United States. I, on the other hand, like the sound of being the President’s secret mistress.
He strides over to the bed with ease and, with a steady hand, glides his fingers over the bare curve of my hip. “I’d like to see you again on Sunday, before I leave for the campaign tour. I need one more night with my lucky charm.”
The Senator has been a regular of mine for the past four years. He originally came here to shut the doors on Magnolia house. Claiming he wanted to clean up the filth in our city, but, one look at me in my red corset, and Mr. Family Values was singing a new song. In those four years, he went from being onthe cusp of losing his seat in the senate, to winning the bid for the next presidential seat.
“That’s a sweet way of saying you need time with my pussy,” I say flashing him a cheeky grin.
“This pussy…” He cups me in his hand, a single finger circles my clit. “… has brought me a lot of luck.” He brings his finger up to his mouth and licks it clean.
“As much as I would like to think that my pussy is magic, it’s sadly not.” I rise to my knees in front of him and straighten his tie. “This campaign was all you, I just helped clear the fog that was keeping you from believing in yourself. I will remember our time fondly when you become the next President.”
“I may have to have them build you a secret room in the White House,” he says, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear.
“As tempting as it would be to be the mistress to the great President MaCaffery, my place is here.” His offer is appreciated, but it’s not the first time one of my clients has made a similar offer. These men think I need saving, that a beautiful woman can’t sell her body just for the pure fact that she loves sex, that there has to be something wrong with me. But there isn’t. I grew up in a safe and loving home, with two caring parents who taught me to never settle for the ordinary. A desk job kind of life is not for me. I love sex and I’m damn good at it, so why not get paid for it.
He slides his hand into mine, brings it to his lips, and gently kisses my knuckles. “One of these days I will sway you to my side.”
“Good night Senator.”
He drops my hand and turns for the door. I tilt my head to the side, watching his grade A gorgeous ass walking out my door. I can’t wait for Sunday to come so I can fuck that pretty ass of his again. Senator MaCaffery, what would your constituents think if they knew you liked getting fucked with a strap on? That dirtylittle secret will live only in my nasty thoughts for the rest of my life.
I lie back on the bed and stretch my arms above my head. If I didn’t have another client arriving in an hour, I would crash right now after the three-hour marathon the Senator just put me through. The stamina that man has is the reason I run six days a week.
Reluctantly, I roll out of bed, start collecting the toys from our session, and roll them up in the sheet. I’ve worked at Magnolia for just over four years. Before this, I was working on Wall Street at my father’s investment firm, slowly dying of boredom. So, what makes a girl from Hartford, Connecticut go from working as an investment banker to working in a brothel? A very persuasive man by the name of Marcus Deverux, a colleague of my fathers who saw I was wasting my life managing stock portfolios. He believed my particular talents were best suited for the bedroom rather than the boardroom when he witnessed me in action in my office with one of the interns. After one night at the mansion, I was forever hooked on the high.
Behind these walls, some of the most powerful men in the country have kneeled before me. Why would I ever want to leave that?
CHAPTER
TWO
Deacon
“Xander,you are positive this place is discreet? The last thing I need is someone leaking it to the papers that I visited a fucking brothel. I can’t believe I let you talk me into doing this,” I grumble into the phone receiver, massaging my temples.
“I swear your secret will be safe. I never would have suggested this if I didn’t think it wouldn’t be. You need this Deac, it’s our last resort. I’ve heard Amelia has the magic touch.” My manager, in all his brilliant wisdom, is making me visit Magnolia House, all the way in goddamn Mississippi, to spend the night with some woman, who apparently has the magic touch in her pussy. I don’t think fucking some chick is going to give me back the edge that I have lost. But I’m desperate and I will try anything to win.
I’ve been the welterweight champion for the past three years. I eat, sleep, and drink boxing. I have since I was in high school. It was the only thing that kept me off the streets and out of jail. I grew up in the projects of Chicago. My mother was a school teacher, and my father was in and out of jail because of his nasty temper. His penchant for selling drugs for most of my childhoodlanded him permanently behind bars after he beat a guy to death during a drug deal gone wrong.
I, unfortunately, inherited my father’s temper and took out my anger on the shitty hand life had dealt me… on anyone who looked at me wrong. After my last fight, the judge was prepared to bypass juvy and throw my ass in jail. Luckily, the cop that arrested me saw something in me and pled his case to the judge to release me into his custody. Eric saved me that day. He taught me how to channel my rage in the ring. He became a father to me and now I’m letting him down.
“I still don’t see how me getting pussy is going to help.”
“If anything, it will change that sunny disposition of yours. How long has it been since you got your dick wet? Do you remember how to use it?” He laughs.
My eyes roll back in my head. “Fuck you, asshole. Remind me why this girl is worth paying for when I could just nail one of the hundreds of fangirls that throw themselves at me at every fight?”
“Because that is amateur pussy, you need a professional. You pay top dollar for trainers and physical therapists to keep you at your best in the ring, so why not pay for the best in the sex business, especially if it can help get you back up to the top.” He still sounds fucking nuts, but at this point, crazy is the only option I have left. “Just go in there and let Amelia work her magic. If this doesn’t work out, you can use me as your personal punching bag.”
“Can I get that in writing so when the cops pull me off your battered corpse, I can tell them you gave me permission?” I chuckle as the car pulls up to the grand mansion. I hang up with Xander, then climb out of the car before the driver has a chance to open my door. I gruffly tell him to pick me up in two hours. I have to be on a plane to Vegas later for my next fight.
Stepping through the door, I find a line of women standing before a small group of men being examined like a herd of cattle,while a woman, who I am assuming is the madam, explains the rules of the house to the group of men. I watch as each man chooses his lady. “What the fuck am I doing here?” I mutter under my breath. I’m Deacon fucking Saint, and I don't pay for sex. I turn for the door when a delicate yet firm hand on my shoulder stops me.
