sandalwood and new leather. I should be nicer to him, because if I fuck his brains out tonight, he might request me again on future visits. I wouldn't mind having a regular like him.
"So how long have you been working in this hellhole?" he asks.
Too long. "A few weeks."
"I don't like it. You're better than this, Hope."
I gasp and my drowsy, pleasurable haze immediately clears as soon as my real name leaves his lips. "How do you...who are you?" I roll over to face him even though the room is too dark to make out any characteristics. I rub my fingertips along his strong, bristly jaw and my other hand through his hair. Long hair for a man. I've only ever been with one other man with thick, shaggy hair, and that was years ago.
Batman ?
No! It couldn't be. This guy's name is Frederick Coughlin. Wait, Eric is short for Frederick...and the Halloween party five years ago was at the Coughlin mansion. All this time...that night...I hadn't been with just another party-goer. No, I'd fucked the extremely rich Coughlin son.
"You lied to me! You said you didn't know the Coughlins."
"That wasn't a lie. I might be one, but I didn't know a thing about my parents. I was raised by nannies and then they sent me off to boarding school as soon as I could walk."
"Your dad..." I remember hearing about his death last week. That's all everyone around here has been talking about since an Angel was actually with him when he died of a heart attack at his residence.
I suck in a breath when I realize the connection between his father's death and then Brooke's. Hers last night shook us all up. It was deemed an accident, a vampire going too far. But now I wonder...could the two be related?
"He's dead. That's the only reason I came back to this goddamn town. I thought you said you were going to school to get out of here."
"Yeah well, things change."
"Why'd you give up so easily?" he asks, his tone implying that I'm lazy and unmotivated.
"You don't know a damn thing about me, you arrogant prick! Not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouth."
"I know that there's always a better choice than whoring yourself out."
"Yes, and would you like to hear those choices? Working at Shirley's Diner for five years, maxing out at nine dollars an hour as a shift manager. Let me do the math for you, rich boy, with tips and after taxes that only comes out to about a thousand dollars a month. Rent is five hundred, health insurance is two hundred and fifty, electricity is sixty, car insurance is fifty, and gas is at least forty."
"If that's it then I may not be great at math, but that leaves you with a hundred dollars."
"Yes, one hundred whole dollars to spend on groceries for a month! That doesn't include medicine, clothes, or repairs when my car breaks down."
"Oh," he mutters.
" Oh is right, Mr. Moneybags. I make a thousand a weekend here."
"There has to be somewhere else you can go," he says, stroking a knuckle softly over my cheek.
"Sure, there are a ton of glorious jobs in this rundown town for a college dropout with only waitressing experience," I reply sarcastically. "Let me know when you find one of those opportunities and I'll happily apply."
"You could come work for me," he says simply, but I ignore it. I don't want his pity or his close proximity on a regular basis. I can’t risk him getting that close.
Trying to distract him, I throw my leg over his and reach down to grab his tight ass, pulling him forward until our lower bodies align. "Are you going to talk all night or do you plan to get your money's worth? I can't imagine how much you paid for the entire night."
"Three thousand."
"Th-three...three thousand?" I sputter over the incredible amount.
"Yeah. How much of that does Simon actually give you?" he asks, nuzzling against my neck.
"A thousand, if I'm lucky." Holy shit! I just made a thousand dollars in one night! Maybe I'll finally start digging us out of our hole, so that we can
"So how long have you been working in this hellhole?" he asks.
Too long. "A few weeks."
"I don't like it. You're better than this, Hope."
I gasp and my drowsy, pleasurable haze immediately clears as soon as my real name leaves his lips. "How do you...who are you?" I roll over to face him even though the room is too dark to make out any characteristics. I rub my fingertips along his strong, bristly jaw and my other hand through his hair. Long hair for a man. I've only ever been with one other man with thick, shaggy hair, and that was years ago.
Batman ?
No! It couldn't be. This guy's name is Frederick Coughlin. Wait, Eric is short for Frederick...and the Halloween party five years ago was at the Coughlin mansion. All this time...that night...I hadn't been with just another party-goer. No, I'd fucked the extremely rich Coughlin son.
"You lied to me! You said you didn't know the Coughlins."
"That wasn't a lie. I might be one, but I didn't know a thing about my parents. I was raised by nannies and then they sent me off to boarding school as soon as I could walk."
"Your dad..." I remember hearing about his death last week. That's all everyone around here has been talking about since an Angel was actually with him when he died of a heart attack at his residence.
I suck in a breath when I realize the connection between his father's death and then Brooke's. Hers last night shook us all up. It was deemed an accident, a vampire going too far. But now I wonder...could the two be related?
"He's dead. That's the only reason I came back to this goddamn town. I thought you said you were going to school to get out of here."
"Yeah well, things change."
"Why'd you give up so easily?" he asks, his tone implying that I'm lazy and unmotivated.
"You don't know a damn thing about me, you arrogant prick! Not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouth."
"I know that there's always a better choice than whoring yourself out."
"Yes, and would you like to hear those choices? Working at Shirley's Diner for five years, maxing out at nine dollars an hour as a shift manager. Let me do the math for you, rich boy, with tips and after taxes that only comes out to about a thousand dollars a month. Rent is five hundred, health insurance is two hundred and fifty, electricity is sixty, car insurance is fifty, and gas is at least forty."
"If that's it then I may not be great at math, but that leaves you with a hundred dollars."
"Yes, one hundred whole dollars to spend on groceries for a month! That doesn't include medicine, clothes, or repairs when my car breaks down."
"Oh," he mutters.
" Oh is right, Mr. Moneybags. I make a thousand a weekend here."
"There has to be somewhere else you can go," he says, stroking a knuckle softly over my cheek.
"Sure, there are a ton of glorious jobs in this rundown town for a college dropout with only waitressing experience," I reply sarcastically. "Let me know when you find one of those opportunities and I'll happily apply."
"You could come work for me," he says simply, but I ignore it. I don't want his pity or his close proximity on a regular basis. I can’t risk him getting that close.
Trying to distract him, I throw my leg over his and reach down to grab his tight ass, pulling him forward until our lower bodies align. "Are you going to talk all night or do you plan to get your money's worth? I can't imagine how much you paid for the entire night."
"Three thousand."
"Th-three...three thousand?" I sputter over the incredible amount.
"Yeah. How much of that does Simon actually give you?" he asks, nuzzling against my neck.
"A thousand, if I'm lucky." Holy shit! I just made a thousand dollars in one night! Maybe I'll finally start digging us out of our hole, so that we can
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