peccadilloes, he took after his father, who had impregnated Paxton’s mother without benefit of marriage. Since the man had already been married, matrimony hadn’t been an option, so Paxton tried not to be critical.
His father had been generous, though, had paid for their housing and sent Paxton to school, which was where he’d befriended Jordan. There was even a small trust fund, but it was never enough. Paxton’s tastes were too extravagant, his expenses too high.
He was too lazy to work at a job, so he’d perfected the only two means by which he could supplement his income: gambling and womanizing.
He enjoyed both and indulged constantly, and he didn’t regret his choices. He simply wished that the endeavors were a tad more lucrative—and his father a tad less miserly.
Lauretta sashayed over and perched a hip on the mattress. She leaned in, her breasts taunting him to misbehave.
“Tell me the truth,” she said. “Do you see any flaws?”
He pretended to ponder, his eyes roaming down her body.
“No, I don’t see anything, but I should probably assess the condition of your legs. Would you remove your negligee?”
Without hesitation, she stood and let it slither to the floor, and in a thrice, she was naked.
He frowned. She was a mercenary, and she didn’t proceed with any venture unless she’d fully calculated the payoff at the end, so he didn’t understand her game. Obviously, she was hoping to seduce him. But why?
She didn’t dally for pleasure. With her, it was all business. So if she was offering, she’d expect something in return. He didn’t have any funds, so what was she after?
“You’re magnificent,” he said, recognizing it was the comment she’d sought.
“I am,” she agreed.
She came back to the bed, and this time, she crawled over his lap so that her thighs were spread, her breasts in his face. His cock pounded with anticipation.
“What the hell do you want?” he asked.
“I want to know what’s going on with Jordan.”
“I told you: I don’t know.”
“Then find out for me.”
“He and I don’t have that kind of relationship.”
Their association was forged on vice and carnality. They wagered, they drank, they chased women, but they never discussed their personal lives, and Paxton wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to probe for intimate details.
“You could find out if you wanted to,” she insisted.
“Maybe I don’t want to.”
She laid down and stretched out, her lush torso crushed to his all the way down.
“I could make it worth your while,” she coaxed.
“I bet you could.”
“Haven’t you ever wondered what it might be like between us?”
“Yes, I have.”
He couldn’t deny it. He was a mortal man, not a saint.
He clasped her nipple, squeezing it with light pressure, and she arched her back and moaned in ecstasy, but he was sure the reaction was faked.
She could be fucking him or anybody.
Still, he reveled in licentious play, so he treated himself to a few naughty touches. To his surprise, he caught himself wishing he was with Cassandra Stewart instead of Lauretta. For some reason, Cassandra fascinated him, and before he quitted the estate, he intended to have her as a lover.
She just didn’t know it yet.
In an instant, his ardor fled, his erection vanishing.
Lauretta noticed immediately, and she scowled and sat on her haunches.
“What is it?” she snapped.
“I have no desire to spy on Jordan for you, and I’m not too keen on copulating with you, either.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Not in the mood? Not in the mood?”
“No,” he said. “Sorry.”
“You are the second man tonight who’s told me the same.”
“Then perhaps you should give up and head to your own bed.”
“And perhaps you should choke on a crow.”
She scooted away, furious, as she yanked on her negligee.
“If I change my mind,” he informed her, “about tattling on Jordan, I’ll let you know.”
“You do
His father had been generous, though, had paid for their housing and sent Paxton to school, which was where he’d befriended Jordan. There was even a small trust fund, but it was never enough. Paxton’s tastes were too extravagant, his expenses too high.
He was too lazy to work at a job, so he’d perfected the only two means by which he could supplement his income: gambling and womanizing.
He enjoyed both and indulged constantly, and he didn’t regret his choices. He simply wished that the endeavors were a tad more lucrative—and his father a tad less miserly.
Lauretta sashayed over and perched a hip on the mattress. She leaned in, her breasts taunting him to misbehave.
“Tell me the truth,” she said. “Do you see any flaws?”
He pretended to ponder, his eyes roaming down her body.
“No, I don’t see anything, but I should probably assess the condition of your legs. Would you remove your negligee?”
Without hesitation, she stood and let it slither to the floor, and in a thrice, she was naked.
He frowned. She was a mercenary, and she didn’t proceed with any venture unless she’d fully calculated the payoff at the end, so he didn’t understand her game. Obviously, she was hoping to seduce him. But why?
She didn’t dally for pleasure. With her, it was all business. So if she was offering, she’d expect something in return. He didn’t have any funds, so what was she after?
“You’re magnificent,” he said, recognizing it was the comment she’d sought.
“I am,” she agreed.
She came back to the bed, and this time, she crawled over his lap so that her thighs were spread, her breasts in his face. His cock pounded with anticipation.
“What the hell do you want?” he asked.
“I want to know what’s going on with Jordan.”
“I told you: I don’t know.”
“Then find out for me.”
“He and I don’t have that kind of relationship.”
Their association was forged on vice and carnality. They wagered, they drank, they chased women, but they never discussed their personal lives, and Paxton wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to probe for intimate details.
“You could find out if you wanted to,” she insisted.
“Maybe I don’t want to.”
She laid down and stretched out, her lush torso crushed to his all the way down.
“I could make it worth your while,” she coaxed.
“I bet you could.”
“Haven’t you ever wondered what it might be like between us?”
“Yes, I have.”
He couldn’t deny it. He was a mortal man, not a saint.
He clasped her nipple, squeezing it with light pressure, and she arched her back and moaned in ecstasy, but he was sure the reaction was faked.
She could be fucking him or anybody.
Still, he reveled in licentious play, so he treated himself to a few naughty touches. To his surprise, he caught himself wishing he was with Cassandra Stewart instead of Lauretta. For some reason, Cassandra fascinated him, and before he quitted the estate, he intended to have her as a lover.
She just didn’t know it yet.
In an instant, his ardor fled, his erection vanishing.
Lauretta noticed immediately, and she scowled and sat on her haunches.
“What is it?” she snapped.
“I have no desire to spy on Jordan for you, and I’m not too keen on copulating with you, either.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Not in the mood? Not in the mood?”
“No,” he said. “Sorry.”
“You are the second man tonight who’s told me the same.”
“Then perhaps you should give up and head to your own bed.”
“And perhaps you should choke on a crow.”
She scooted away, furious, as she yanked on her negligee.
“If I change my mind,” he informed her, “about tattling on Jordan, I’ll let you know.”
“You do
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