SNEAK PEEK at Dr. Bad Boy


Dr. Bad Boy (Frisky Beavers #2) is releasing on October 18, 2016 — and here’s a sneak peek at the first two chapters of this standalone erotic romance!

Don’t want to read a word before you have the whole thing? Pre-order now at Amazon, iBooks, Barnes & Noble or Kobo! Special 20% pre-order pricing for Frisky Beaver VIP readers.

~ Sadie & Ainsley

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Chapter 1


three months ago

My heels click on the polished stone floor of the Chateau Laurier hotel as I cut across the lobby and head for the lounge. I changed at the office, switching out my trousers for a short skirt and adding enough jewellery to take my blouse and jacket from lawyer to…something else.

I’m celebrating tonight, and it has nothing to do with the fact I billed the top number of hours for a first or second year associate last month, or that I signed two new clients to the firm today.

No, tonight’s celebration is personal, which is why I’m doing it by myself.

My divorce was finalized this afternoon.

I’m officially single again, although I’ve been on my own for more than a year, and lonely for a lot longer than that.

So tonight I’m going to drink a martini or three in the fanciest hotel in the city and celebrate freedom.

I thought about going to the BDSM club I’ve visited a few times, but people know me there. Maybe not by my full name, but they know I’m a newbie to kink. Know I need protecting.

Tonight, I want to be seen as confident. Sexy. Anonymous and strong. Desirable just for being me.

And it doesn’t take long for me to slide into the skin of someone other. Not me. Not quite the role I’ve played at clubs, either. A new person. Her name can be Violet, too. I’ll share that with her.

But this other woman has a confidence I’ve never let loose before. I’ve always been too afraid of being…too much. Too sexy, too pushy—and ha, that’s a hilarious joke given what I’ve learned about my preferences in the last year. The last thing I want is to be too pushy. If anything, I want to be told what to do.

I’ve just ordered my drink, a lemon vodka martini, when the energy in the room shifts. Nobody else notices, but I feel it to my bones. From the corner of my eye, I see a dark suit. A man. Tall and commanding.

I make myself wait a beat before turning to give him a more obvious appraisal. I don’t want to be disappointed. That’s right. This Violet owns the right to appraise and reject. Judge and measure, and find a man lacking.

I might be disappointed in him. I take a sip of my drink. Cool and crisp, it slides over my tongue. Bright citrus with a hard hit of heat at the back of my throat. I let the sweet warmth of knowing I’m good enough sweep through me.

But I’m not really ignoring him. I don’t kid myself with that pretence—my attention is still glued on him.

And when I twist to the side and cross my legs, I feel his gaze move over me. His eyes settle on my face and I smile, slow and pleased with myself.

Pleased with him.

He doesn’t disappoint in the least.

He lifts one eyebrow. An unspoken question.

Yes, please, I say with a small nod of my head.

Taking another sip of my drink, I watch him prowl across the room to join me at the bar.

“Are you waiting for someone?” His voice is deep and smooth. It matches him.

He’s handsome in an almost impossible way. Chiseled face, warm eyes, a nose that may have been broken once, but he’s better looking for it. His lips look soft, his jaw hard. He’s a big man, in his height and across his shoulders, but the rest of him looks built for speed. A fighter who might dance on his toes. A sprinter who could chase the wind.

I give him a soft, sultry smile that feels surprisingly natural. “I might be waiting for you.”

“I’m Max.”

I hold out my hand. “Very nice to meet you, Max.”

He gives me an up and down appraisal which on any other night I’d have found super creepy. Or at least, from any other man. But he has this look about him—a familiarity and a kindness, maybe. Except the way he’s looking at me isn’t kind.

It’s hot and dirty.

“And you are…?” He gives my hand a little squeeze as he lets go, his thumb trailing down my index finger.

I press my thighs together. I want to feel that electric stroke right between my legs. On my ass. Across my nipples. “Whoever you want me to be.”

I blush at how brazen I’m being, but damn it, Max is a gift. He’s exactly my type. Easily into his thirties, he’s tall and broad and has a touch of grey at his temples that makes my lower belly clench hard.

His eyelids drop a little as he pulls his lower lip between his teeth. Thinking hard about what he wants me to be.

It’s been a lot longer than seventeen months since I’ve had a guy give any thought to how he wanted to fuck me.

Gold star for Max, and we haven’t even got past introductions.

“I think I’d like very much for you to be mine tonight. All night, if that’s okay?”

“All night?”

“Do you need to check-in with someone?”

And he gets the safety thing. I give him a quick smile. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I know the rules.” That slow, sexy smoldering look steals my breath as I fumble for my phone in my purse. He does the same—minus the fumble—and after a quick messages-check he flicks the ringer switch on the side and puts it away again.

I take a quick picture of him, then fire it off to my neighbour, Matthew, who’s a city cop. He’s out with his boyfriend tonight, so I don’t expect him to reply right away, but he does.

V: Found a friend for the night.

M: Where are you?

V: Chateau Laurier.

M: Text me again if you go somewhere else.

V: Yes, dad.

M: Your dad never stuck extra condoms in your purse before you went to work. Have fun!

I blush and do a quick check as I stash my phone. Sure enough, there are two strips of condoms next to my emergency fifty-dollar bill.

“Do you have a room here?” I ask. If he doesn’t, we’ll get one. I checked before I came to make sure there were some available. I have zero plans to go off into the night with a random stranger, no matter how kind he looks or how dirty he gets.

He gives me a slow, sexy grin. “I do.”

“Lead the way.”

He guides me across the hotel lobby, his hand firm in the small of my back.

I slide him a sideways glance as we wait for an elevator car to arrive on the ground floor and smile. “Just here the one night?”

“Yes.” He lowers his voice at the same moment the fingers of his hand closest to my arm brush my skin. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

My lips part and my eyes go wide, and that’s all the response he’s getting from me because the doors in front of us slide open and people get out. His fingers continue their lazy search of my upper arm. Up and down. Up and down.

I breathe in and out, aware of my breasts rising and falling under his gaze. We step onto the elevator, alone now, and as the doors shut, he smoothly slides his arm around my waist, then lower, his hand a hot, heavy brand against my hip.

Too soon we slow to a stop, and two businesspeople step into the lift with us. They’re talking to each other quietly, and they turn their backs to us.

Max twists to the side, leaning his shoulder against the back wall as he curves over me. I tip my face up toward his, willing my heart to stop hammering.

Be cool, Violet.

Easier said than done when my one-night stand is sliding his hand under my skirt, the curved tulip hem and his shadow providing just enough coverage as his fingertips graze the bare skin at the top of my thigh.

My breath catches in my throat as his gaze darkens and his hand quests further.

He wouldn’t.


He totally would.

I gasp out loud, then bite my lip. The elevator stops again, still not our floor, and we get a weird look as the other people step off.

“You’re terrible,” I say, my words shaky but teasing as Max brings his fingers to his mouth.

He just shrugs, every inch an arrogant bad boy. “But I wanted a taste.”

I can’t breathe as I watch him lick his fingers.

“Incredible,” he murmurs as we finally arrive on his floor.

Arrogant bad boy for the win.

Totally speechless, I follow him down the hall, each step bringing me closer and closer to whatever comes next.

He smoothly opens his hotel room and steps inside, holding the door for me. He watches me as I enter, like, really watches me, and a wave of heat rolls up through my body.

Whatever does come next, I’m totally game.


Chapter 2


For more than a decade, I’ve had an agreement with a Vancouver-based madam, who has always matched me to women who could accommodate my kinks. But this time she’s outdone herself. Those lips. Of the countless women she’s provided over the years, this is the first one I’m pretty sure I’m going to break my own fucking rules for. Because I want a taste of her mouth even more than I want her on her knees.

I take a moment to study her. Why? I have no idea. And actually, I don’t want to know. That would likely require an uncomfortable trip into my psyche, for which I have neither the time, nor the inclination.

Tangling my fingers into her hair, I tug her head back a little. Her sapphire-blue eyes sparkle as she gives me a wide smile. I tighten my grip, testing her reaction. She’s not playing anything for my benefit, I don’t think. She reminds me of the brand new subs at the club—eager and breathless. It’s not what I was expecting for tonight, but if that’s what she wants to play at, I’m game. Her breath catches as my lips hover over hers.

“When was the last time someone pulled your hair just the way you like it?”

Her chest rises and falls between us. “Maybe nobody has.”

A total line, but it works. “Is that what you want from me?”


“What else do you want?” I don’t know why I ask. I’m the client. What matters is what I want. But right now, all I can think about is exploring her limits.

Her eyes widen as she realizes I’m serious. Yeah, probably not what she expected, either.

I smirk. “Let’s start with the basics. “Your safe word is—”

“Red.” She interrupts me, and I give her a stern look.

“That wasn’t a question, gorgeous.”

She frowns at me. “Oh.”

That’s adorable. “Punishment isn’t what I want tonight, but if it was, I’d say you earned ten strikes for that.”

Her eyebrows hit the roof. “Oh!” She licks her lips. “Right. Okay. Well…”

The nervous, but eager sex kitten routine is totally working for me. I step back and cross my arms, equally amused and turned on. “Yes?”

“We should discuss boundaries.”

“Of course.” I have a standing order—submissive, flexible, agreeable to impact play when I’ve got toys, and pervertables when I don’t; open to edging and mild humiliation, because the last thing I want to do is trip over a hard limit when my dirty mouth starts running. So we usually skip the protocol of negotiation, but I guess we’re going off-script tonight. “We’ll both use red as a safe word. Yellow for caution, or a time-out so we can discuss something.”

“That’s…good.” She twists her hands together, then squares her shoulders.

I don’t miss that she’s nervous, and I dial back my plans for the night a bit. It doesn’t do a thing to calm my dick down, though. She just wants rough sex? Fine by me. “So what are your limits?”

“For a first night?”

Sure. I shrug and wait for her to continue.

“No impact play.” She grins. “But I liked the threat of punishment. Dirty talk like that is great, of course.”

I nod. At least she remembers that.

“You can be rough.”

“How rough?” I see her on all fours, my hands squeezing her ass so hard it turns white. I’d leave a mark if I did that.

Fuck, I want to see a bruise on her ass. I want her to remember me every time she moves a muscle tomorrow.

“Pretty rough. Hold me down…take what you want.”

“I plan to.”

She blushes. “Excellent.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m probably forgetting some things.”

Maybe she’s new. I prompt her to be sure. “I like to be in charge. I want your submission.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“You don’t need to call me sir. If I call you a slut, I promise it’s a compliment. I want your pussy wet and begging for my cock at all times. Something doesn’t work for you, I want to know, but as long as you’re willing, I want to push your limits.”

Her eyes go wide. “Yes.”

“No hitting, but if you get a bruise from being held down?”

“Fine.” She swallows. “Maybe not around my neck.”

“Of course not.” I hesitate, because this is in my file, but she’s flustered and it can’t hurt to reinforce the good points about me. She’s about to meet the jackass side of my personality. “I’m a doctor. I promise you’re safe.”

“I believe you,” she says softly, and my cock throbs.

Enough talk. “Strip…slowly.”

I turn away, watching her in the mirror as I cross the room. “Fold each piece of clothing neatly and place it on the dresser,” I tell her when she’s about to drop her jacket on the seat of the chair near the door. Her startled reaction makes me grin. Usually, they’re so slick they seem almost apathetic or jaded.

On the other side of the room, there is an armchair and ottoman. I shift the ottoman so it’s exactly where I want it and cover it with my jacket, lining facing out. By the time I sit to watch the rest of the show, her blouse is half undone and I get a glimpse of the tops of her creamy breasts.

My dick is hard and impatient, but I won’t be rushed.

After unfastening the final button, she shrugs the silk from her shoulders and lets it slide down her arms until it’s hanging off her hooked index finger. It’s a smooth move, and I’m more than a little impressed.

Nude is not what I’d normally call a sexy colour for a bra, but the way the sheer lacy fabric hinted at her dusky nipples—taunting me, I no longer care.

Crossing her right arm over her bust, her left disappears behind her. As her arm works, her shoulder curves in, creating a mouthwatering shadow below her collarbone. Then the strap falls loose, revealing the most perfect pair of breasts I’ve laid eyes on in recent memory. Full and round, topped with pert nipples I’m dying to bite.

The woman is killing me. What the fuck was I thinking with this slowly business? Oh yeah, that I have all night. And I do, but the thing is, I want to spend all night with my cock inside her body, and this is taking too fucking long.

She reaches behind her again, and in the silence, I hear her lower the zipper, then watch her skirt drop to the floor, leaving her naked save for the scrap of lace barely covering her.

With a sexy little grin, she steps out of the skirt, turns her back to me, and bends over, giving me a spectacular view of her delectable ass.

My cock strains against my zipper with renewed enthusiasm while I contemplate all the ways I wish I could mark that ass, but can’t because I left all my playthings at home in Vancouver. And then there’s the minor detail of her no-impact limit for the night, but my fantasies can be whatever I want them to be.

After she places the folded skirt on the dresser, she looks over her shoulder at me and winks. Winks! Saucy wench. She slips her thumbs under the waistband of her panties, and with a little wiggle, shimmies them over her hips. Her body folds over as she slides them toward the floor. I lose track of what she’s doing for a moment because I’ve just been distracted by her glistening labia peeking out from between her thighs.

Naked, she turns to face me. My mouth waters and I’m done with slow.

“Kneel here,” I say as I point to the ottoman. She pads over and settles herself on her knees in front of me. “Spread your legs wider and lean back on your hands.”

Her new position focuses my attention on all her tastiest bits. The ones I’m going to suck, and bite, and tease, and torture.

“Lovely. Now, don’t move.” Leaning forward, I slide my finger through her juices and draw them to her clit. She moans, but manages to remain still.

I stroke back through her slippery folds and push the tip of my finger inside her—barely enough to tease while my thumb works over her clit in lazy circles. Her moans become louder, and my heart rate speeds up. Yes, this is what I wanted. That tug in my gut where I’m in control and she’s being driven wild. But I’m not ready for her to come just yet. I slide my hand from between her legs and unfasten my trousers, freeing my raging hard-on. A moment of inspiration hits. I pinch her nipples and tug her forward.

She’s quick to catch on to where this is going, and soon her hands are resting on either side of my legs. I release her nipples and slide one hand behind her neck, guiding her down while the other hand grips the base of my cock, holding it ready.

“Fuck me with your mouth, gorgeous.”

Through her parted lips, her tongue darts out to lap at the bead of pre-come. In no mood for gentle anything, I increase the downward pressure on her neck. “Slap my thigh with your hand if you need to safeword because Red’s not going to work with my dick in your throat. Understand?”

She nods vigorously. “Yes.”

“In that case, open wide, tongue out.” Tangling my fingers in her hair, I push her down onto my long-suffering erection.

The urge to bottom out in her throat is strong, but I resist. Instead, I stop before reaching her throat and pull her up so only the head is still in her mouth. “Swirl your tongue around it.”

I last for two circumnavigations before I push her down my shaft. This time I touch the back of her throat and she swallows against it. God, I love that feeling, tight and hot and wet. Like I’m fucking huge, and she’s just taking it. It’s a heady, powerful feeling and I can’t get enough. I pull up slightly and push a little deeper. She swallows again, and this time, instead of pulling back, I hold her head still while I pump my hips.

She takes me twice before her throat lurches. I pull her off me and search her face. Her eyes are watery, and I watch her throat bob up and down as she fights against her gag-reflex. I’m both concerned and turned on. I can’t recall the last time I had someone who couldn’t take all of me.

“Are you okay? I told you to slap my thigh if you had a problem.”

“No,” she says slowly, like she’s choosing her words carefully. “You told me to slap your thigh if I needed to safeword. I’m fine.”

Feisty. I like that. More than I should. But fuck, those watery eyes.

I guide her back to my cock and she takes me deep again. This time she’s tenser, anticipating the gag, but her hips are pulsing almost imperceptibly, too. She wants it.

With a groan, I hold her head still and fuck her mouth. Not too deep, not all the way. But I push her enough to give us both the thrill of that edge of panic.

This time when she gags and I pull back, I’m not checking her face to make sure she’s with me. Instead I touch my fingers to the wet tear rolling down her cheek, pleased beyond measure. “That was excellent.”

“Again?” she asks, her eyes hopeful, and I let her try once more.

It would be glorious to train her, I think randomly, but that’s not going to happen. Makes my dick happy, though, and he jolts against the back of her mouth. She coughs, and I regretfully put an end to that fun.

This is her limit, though, and the night is still young.

I pinch her nipples and push her back to an upright kneeling position. Rising from the armchair, I remove my shirt and move behind her. I gently push on her upper back and whisper in her ear, “Back on all fours like you were.” As she adjusts her position, I finish undressing and slip on a condom. “Legs spread wide—all the way to the edges of the ottoman, gorgeous. I need room to work.”

She moans, making my cock twitch and ache. I’ve been denied far too long. Grabbing her hips, I take her in one long, hard thrust. She’s a tighter than I expected, but I don’t dwell on it. Right now my only concern is my oncoming orgasm. We’ve got all night, and it’ll be easier for me to focus on her pleasure when I’m not pre-occupied with blue balls.

I slide one arm around her belly and reach for her clit. I’m not entirely selfish.

Trapping the little nub beneath the ridge of my palm, I squeeze my middle and ring fingers into her pussy, filling her even further, and curl them up toward her G-spot. She gasps, and I’m not sure which she likes better, the intrusion or the stimulation. I ruthlessly give her more of both.

My other hand slides up to her breast where I pinch her nipple hard. I kiss and lick at a fleshy spot between her shoulder blades before sinking my teeth in. She flinches slightly, but moans again and I smile.

I pull back my hips and surge forward, again and again, pumping hard and fast. Despite my selfish plans for taking my own pleasure, I bite back my orgasm until this sweet surprise of a woman has screamed out two of her own. God, I love it when they scream.

With one last thrust, I hold myself against her soft skin as my cock pulsates deep inside her body.

Paranoia takes over and I carefully extract myself. “On your back on the bed, legs spread wide and play with yourself until I return.” I retreat to the bathroom to take care of the condom and clean up with a hot, wet cloth. No risks. Not ever.

The shower stall catches my eye and I have a slight change of plans. I’m about to call for the goddess in the other room to join me when it occurs to me that she hasn’t told me her name. Fuck. Calling for gorgeous doesn’t seem appropriate somehow. It’s my standard endearment—also makes it easier to keep them straight—and it applies to her in spades, but I don’t want to be quite so anonymous with this one.

When I jerk off later to the memory of her gagging on my cock, I want to know her name. I want to mutter it along with all the filthy instructions I didn’t voice tonight. Take it. Choke on it. Fucking gag on my cock, you happy little slut.

I turn on the shower and adjust the temperature, then walk back into the room to find her on the bed stroking herself. Her head lolls to the side, but she’s watching me. Ever attentive to her client’s needs.

But she’s not acting. Her fingers are rubbing feverishly enough for me to know this is real for her. Damn that’s hot. She’s hot. And the sight of her hand between her legs raises the temperature in the room significantly. All I can think about is getting my hand there, too, getting her off and feeling her come on my fingers.

I beckon. “Follow me.”

She rises and trails after me back into the bathroom. “Into the shower, hands on that wall and feet spread wide.” I join her and take the hand-shower down from its holder and fiddle with the settings until there are only three small, powerful jets shooting from the centre. Yeah, this is going work beautifully.

“You can make all the noise you like as long as you’re prepared to answer the door to explain it. Otherwise, don’t move.”

I wrap my arm around her belly and hold her tight against me while I hold the showerhead only a few inches from her body and aim the spray on a slight angle at the sweet spot between her legs. It’s not long before she’s mewling like a kitten. My cock perks up at the sound, growing hard against her. As her orgasm grows closer, her mewls transform into frantic moans, and I silently smack my head for lack of forethought. One condom-clad dick and I could be buried inside her while she falls apart.

I console myself with the happy thought that there will be a next time. From the sound of things, very soon.

The long tortured moan is almost as good as a scream. Clearly, she thinks I honestly would make her go to the door to explain herself.

When I’m sure her orgasm is well and truly done, I let go of her belly and grab her hand, guiding it to where I’m holding the showerhead. “Grab it, and whatever you do, don’t lose my spot. I’ll be right back.”

I whip out of the shower, make a dash for the nightstand, and grab a strip of condoms. My cock is fully dressed and ready for action by the time I return to her. The fact that she’s really struggling tells me she’s not moved a muscle. And her obedience pleases me mightily.

“Well done, gorgeous.” Fuck, that endearment just didn’t sound right to me at all. I pack that thought away for later. I have plans. I take the shower from her. “Hand back on the wall, same deal as before—all the noise you want, but don’t move.”

I bend my legs, positioning my cock at her entrance, then push my way inside, filling her up at a whole new angle. From her shaky breathing and the way her thighs tremble against mine, I know she’s already on the verge of coming and I hold still with my cock as deep as it will go. I want her to milk me with her orgasms alone—if that’s even possible.

The shaking gets worse. I know she wants me to move, to touch her, but I want her to let go. And what I want, goes. Time stretches as her pussy squeezes me, tighter and hotter. Fucking hell. It takes all my willpower not to rut into her like an animal. Then with a long groan, she spasms around me and it’s worth the wait. And she doesn’t slump forward or beg off. No, I’m going to be able to make her do that again and again.

Her next orgasm is fast and hard, more of a pulsing clench, and it feels fucking good, but it’s not the long sucking pulls I need from her cunt. Not if I’m going to fill her full of my come.

That image helps. Fuck, I want to paint her, too. Pull out and spray all over her back, then smear my fingers in it, pull it down to her ass and—

I cut myself off, feeling how close I’ve gotten. I could come without any other stimulation than the thought of this one’s tight, pink pucker squeezing against my cock, protesting the inevitable invasion.

Instead, I drop the showerhead and focus on her next orgasm. I do like a well-planned out fuck. And this one is going to end with her pussy jacking me off. I’m going to torture her until every last muscle between her legs sings.

Or just come really fucking hard.

The water’s washed away a lot of her natural lubrication, so I start wide and go slow, stroking the insides of her thighs, then the outer lips of her pussy. The whole time I’m talking to her, making her head swim with images of how I want to debauch her.

“You liked it when I fucked your throat, didn’t you?”

She nods helplessly and I lick the curve of her ear.

“If you make me come, I’ll return the favour. You can ride my face.”

“Oh my God,” she pants. “You’re going to kill me.”

“One of us will safeword out before we hit that point, I’m sure.”

“Please don’t.” She bites her lip and groans deep in her throat. My fingers are just inside her pussy lips now, stroking the nerve endings there, but not touching her clit. Everything but, that’s my new plan. Wait until she’s restless and aching for it before I start to circle that hard little nub that makes my mouth water.

That’s not just dirty talk. Once she comes, I’m going to swallow every drop of her arousal. Lick her clean and carry her to bed where I’ll make her dirty all over again.

She’s getting slick around me again, and my cock shifts inside her. I touch her lower, feeling where she’s stretched tight around me. I pull that slippery wetness up and trace closer and closer to where I know she’ll go off like a firecracker if I just touch her.

So I don’t.

Inside, she’s starting to clench sporadically. An orgasm that almost starts, then fades back as I refuse to push her over that edge.

Each time, it’s a bit stronger.

I press harder into her, not wanting to slip out even a centimetre. When I glance my knuckle just to the right of her clit, she shudders everywhere, and my balls squeeze almost painfully. Yes, yes, fucking-A, yes.

Down and around, slippery slide back up, and more contact this time. A gasp. Nearly a scream.

I don’t care if the police pound on the door, I want her scream. Faster, I swirl my fingers, and now I’m stroking over her clit every time. Her climax starts and I keep going, holding her tight with one arm as my other hand keeps rubbing in exactly the same pattern, not stopping, not stopping, never stopping. Her orgasm ratchets up, gets stronger and she arches her back, her head tipping up, her mouth open in a wordless moan.

And then I come. Fucking best thing ever, the surge of jizz jolting up my dick, and that’s when she screams.

I don’t know if she feels me filling her up or if she can sense it in the way I’m holding her, but either way, it’s exactly what I wanted.

Her body, my control. My command, her submission.

Her cry, sweet and sharp and endless in my ear.

I hold her until I soften inside her, then withdraw, holding on to the condom long enough to get it free of her body.

She deserves a reward for all that hard work. I sink to my knees and take a long, slow swipe from clit to slit with my tongue. Her training is perfect. She holds still for me, whimpering.

Music to my sadistic ears.

It would be awesome to make her cry.

But it’s my job to know the limits, and we’re definitely not going there tonight, even though I said we would.

I rise to my feet and reach for the towels.

Sometime later—after we eat a snack, for which she wraps herself in the bed sheet, and blushes when I make her drop it—I finally call an end to the fun and games, slapping her ass and telling her playtime’s over. But instead of pointing her to the door, I lean back against the pillows and let her follow my lead to do the same.

She’s sore, I’m sure, but I’m not ready for the night to be done just yet.

“What’s your name?”

She gives me a sweet, unguarded smile that’s like a punch in the gut. “Violet.”

I repeat it quietly. “Beautiful.”

She inhales slowly, then curls into my side. “Tonight wasn’t quite what I expected.”


“Better.” Her smile gets bigger. “Way better.”

“Good.” I trail my fingertip down her arm, then back up again, this time coming closer to her naked breast. I’m halfway hard, but no matter how much I pay for the privilege, I don’t actually get to break the call girls. She’s more than earned her rest. “Come here.”

She sets her head on my shoulder and I wrap my arm around her. She makes a sound that I can only describe as a contented purr, like a milk-drunk kitten. I don’t recognize myself at the moment, but I’m well-fucked and bone-tired. I’ll worry about this newfound love of cuddling tomorrow. Right now I just want to rest my eyes while I breathe her in. Violet.

Best sex I’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.

My last thought before I drift off is, hello, Ottawa. When I move back, we’re definitely doing this again.

The next thought I have is only semi-conscious. It’s late, and totally dark outside. Violet’s rolling away from me.

“Back here,” I mumble, reaching for her, but she’s already out of bed.

“I should head,” she whispers.

“Wait.” I’m so tired. I mumble something incomprehensible even to myself under my breath, and she laughs at me.

“Thanks for tonight.” She moves into the shadows and I roll over, watching her get dressed.

Finally my brain cells start to work enough to form a full sentence. “Is your name really Violet?”

“Why does it matter?”

“So I know who to ask for next time.” Because there needs to be a next time.

She hesitates. “What?”

“Come on, that was amazing.” I yawn. “Next time I’m back in town…”

She’s totally still now, and if I was more awake, I’d process that as the danger sign it is. I’m not, and I don’t.

I’ll regret the next thing I say, but I don’t realize that yet.

“Do you want my number?” she asks quietly.

“I prefer to go through the agency,” I say, because it’s the truth, and again, I’m fucking tired.

Also, fucking stupid.

Because it’s in the silence that follows that I piece together the clues my dick ignored all night long and realize, Violet’s not a call girl.

The door opens a millisecond later, and I’m out of bed, but it’s too late. I’m naked, and she’s gone.


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