His Price
Authors: Leah Holt
HIS PRICE
A BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE
––––––––
Leah Holt
Copyright © 2016 Leah Holt
All rights reserved. HIS PRICE: A BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.
His Price: A Billionaire Romance
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A Peek Into The Future
H
egan brought his lips just above my collarbone, barely touching my flesh; but breathing heavy enough so I could feel him there. He forced his presence onto my skin, goosebumps jetting up instantly.
My arms hung by my sides, limp and motionless. I knew it was wrong for me to want him this way, this badly. My head tried to push the pause button, halt the feelings floating up into my body. But I couldn't stop it.
Gripping my wrists, he pulled them into his chest. My fingers rested gently against his hardened muscles, slowly dragging over each mound. Dipping into the creases and trailing down to his abs, his skin was smooth steel, firming with my touch.
My body had betrayed me, quivering to his mouth as it laid a gentle kiss against my throat. I should have been resisting him, instead I molded into his form. Feeling his lips, soft and heated across the small piece of bare skin; my head fell back, eyes closing tight.
“You taste sweet, Babe.” His tongue danced up my neck, reaching my jaw line. “Now I'm wondering how your mouth tastes.” Pressing his lips firmly onto mine, his tongue pushed deep inside my mouth.
And I did what I never expected I would.
I kissed him back, swirling my tongue around his. Heat melded my body, mixing with a raw desire. It swept from my head down to my toes, pooling in the fire growing between my thighs.
What the hell am I doing? What is he doing to me?
This was so out of character for me, so far from the person I was. I felt like Copper had cemented her grip around my soul, driving me into the life I had been hiding and fading into.
But I didn't want to stop, I didn't want him to stop.
Noella
M
y lips puckered up, plump and firmed. Twisting the Marilyn rouge lipstick, I spread it thick across the parted flesh. Forming a soft circle, I ran my fingers down the edges, crisping up the trim.
I stared at myself in the mirror, lights popping off the sides, the thumping of bass ringing in the background, and with my mask complete I was ready to take the stage.
My name's Copper; well, it is to everyone in here anyway. It's my stage name and I was labeled that my first day at work. Gloria, the owner, couldn't remember my name. I guess the deep red hair with orange highlights cued her to call me Copper.
And well, it just kind of stuck. In the real world I'm Noella, and yes, I was a Christmas baby.
I've been working at Tigress for a few months now, starting off as a cocktail waitress, then graduating to stripper. The money I earned only serving drinks wasn't cutting it. Every night I would see all the other girls leaving with three times as much as I'd made in tips.
Gloria let me give the stage a try, and... I've been the star act ever since.
The beaded curtain behind me jingled. “Copper, you're up,” Fionna said. She's been working here for a couple of years, I guess you could call her a veteran to the trade. A small girl, with long brown hair, and a body to die for.
Honestly, I couldn't tell you what part of her is still real. She's had her boobs done, a nose job, lipo, and I'm pretty sure she's even had ass implants too. Now, I wouldn't go saying
that on record, but I don't think her ass happened naturally.
“Thanks, I'll be right out.” Slipping my feet into the five inch high, blue pumps, I stood and took one last glance in the mirror.
The tight, white bikini top had a large bow dressing the center; a mini skirt, the same shade of white, had a matching bow perched just above the crease of my ass.
How much longer will I need to do this?
Tugging on my skirt, the lower part of my cheeks hung out. I lifted my hands up and shifted my breasts inside the small top, cleavage peeking up over the edge, the subtle flesh a perfect draw for the eye.
Being a stripper wasn't on the top of my list as far as professions go, but it was the money I needed. Not that I had much of a choice anyway. When you owe a debt like I did, it didn't really matter where the cash came from.
So long as I had it to give.
Exhaling a deep breath, I turned and walked through the curtain. The small beads felt cool against my hot skin, chilling my spine as they trailed up my back.
The blaring music fell to a hush, the loud voices turned to whispers. With a slow blink my mind went into a trance, ready to play my role as Copper.
As the lights dimmed across the stage, my song began to play. Elongating my legs, I walked as tall as I could. Each limb extended by the magic of my heels. I wasn't exactly spoiled in terms of height, standing at five foot two; the extra help was a perk.
My body swayed to the beat, fingertips following the deep curves of my hips. Dipping at the knees, I pushed them open. Thrusting my hips forward, my hands rode the inside of my thighs, gently caressing the delicate flesh.
Every jaw around the stage fell down, gaping open. Loud grunts and yelps played over the music. I didn't want to admit it, but I was good at my job, making every guy's cock swell with desire.
Standing slowly, I turned towards the long brass pole, the icy metal hit my palm as I spun around in a single twirl. Popping the rivet to my top, my breasts spilled out, nipples hard as diamonds from the gentle breeze.
Gripping the bar over my head, I glided it down the center of my back. My free hand squeezed one of my breasts, and that's when the green began to fly. The bills rained over the stage, every set of eyes frozen on my masquerade.
The men hollered loudly, breaking the sound barrier, screaming for more.
And I would, I would give them what they wanted.
Sliding across the floor on my belly, I rolled onto my back. Clenching my breasts, I ground up into the air, running my hands over my stomach. Fingering the lace trim of my panties, I pulled them up tight. The soft silk formed around my pussy, taking shape, my lips emerging beneath.
The one thing that gave me some comfort working here was that you didn't have to go full nude; it was an option, but not enforced. Some of the girls chose to, but that wasn't for me. I often thought that was why I tended to make more money than them; I left something to the imagination.
I wanted to keep some piece of myself just for my eyes; and if it felt right, for the man of my choosing. Tits are one thing, and don't get me wrong, I did bring it close to the line, but I never bared all the goods.
As my song came to an end, I gathered up my earnings. The men around the stage yelled for an encore. Smiling, I said, “See you guys next weekend.” Winking softly, I exited to the back.
“Very nice, Copper. Another profitable evening I presume?” Fionna flipped up a purple wig, adjusting it to frame her face. Shifting on her heels, she slid into her dress.
“Yeah, it was alright.” I stuffed the bills into my locker and walked over to my vanity.
“Alright? Looks like you did pretty well, as usual.” Her tone fell short, peering at me through her mirror.
This was a cut throat business, and when a newcomer, like myself, steals the show, most girls didn't care for it.
Rolling my eyes, I freshened up my mascara and changed outfits. It was time to walk the floor. This was where I made most of my money, but it was my least favorite.
The guys always got too handsy, and if you weren't up front with the rules, things could get messy. I hated how they all thought that we, dancers, were there for the taking.
I'm not a hooker. I'm a dancer.
Period.
That's why I preferred the stage. I was in control, no hands running up into places I didn't want them to go. You played with yourself, got their attention and their money, that was it.
If I had a dollar for every guy that thought I would suck his cock, I wouldn't have to work here anymore.
The way I figured it, right now I didn't have a choice; until my debt was paid, I was stuck.
Sliding into a tight red dress, I swapped out my heels for the clubs standard, clear spiked platforms. “Out on floor I go,” I said, tossing Fionna a quick smile.
Her lips pursed tight, a single brow arched. “Mm hm.” She huffed under her breath.
Standing at the feeble attempt for a door, I couldn't help but feel like I was walking into a seventies porn.
They really need to do something about this. These beads are fucking ridiculous.
I thought it was bad enough the place was decked out with furry rugs under the tables, multicolored lights flickering in the empty spaces around the walls, and the scent of cheap cologne mixed with dirty man juice clinging to the air.
If Gloria would just put a little more money into the place, it'd bring in much better business.
The club was pretty packed tonight; making my way around a few booths, I strolled through the room, looking for a decent guy. I tried to stay clear from anyone who looked shady.
My definition of shady: Any man who is currently jerking off, or carrying a towel.
Those are the types I stayed away from; the thought of watching some old greasy man whack off in front of me made me cringe.
Scanning the crowd, I noticed a lone guy tucked off in the back corner. He was leaning back in his chair, hand rested on a glass of liquor, just watching his surroundings. His mouth was taut, hair slicked back with a single strand dangling in front of his eye.
Alright, let's give him a try. He looks innocent enough.
My heels clicked against the hard cement floor; smoothing the front of my dress, I brushed my hair over my shoulder. “Hi there, I'm Copper. You interested in a dance?”
“Does it look like I want a dance?” His deep voice sent chills through my body.
“Well, aren't you cranky. Maybe I can help loosen you up?” I ran a single finger over his shoulder as I circled behind him. “I promise you'll enjoy yourself.”
He was wearing a tight white t-shirt, muscles etched out beneath the fabric, ink sheathing one arm. A pair of jeans with a slight tear in the upper thigh covered his legs. He was certainly built hard. Squeezing his shoulders, I blew hot air over his lobe.
Clutching my wrist tight, he yanked me forcefully back around front. “Hey! No touching!” I yelled.
From the corner of my eye, the bouncer cocked his head up. Greg was great at his job. He always walked each one of us out to our cars at the end of the night and kept a watchful eye over us while we were on the floor.
Nodding to him that I was fine, his muscles relaxed and Greg leaned back against the wall.
“Sorry, Sweetheart. But I can't see you back there.” He brought the glass to his lips, twirling his finger in a circle.
“What?” I asked sternly, holding my arms out.
“Spin around for me. I'm not going to pay for what I haven't seen yet.” His hand fell down to his lap, hips shifting in the seat.
Really? Spin for him?
I thought, as if I was some piece of jewelry he was going to adorn for the evening.
Lifting my hands to my hips, I spun, shaking my curves. A little treat for my evening boss; if he was going to pay. “Like what you see? I can be yours for a little while.”
“That depends. Can you keep your hands off
me?”
His lip curled up, teeth displayed, glistening under the lights.
“The rules are you don't touch me. But I can touch you, where ever and however I want.” My bright red lips pulled up, heart shaped and matching my dress.
I could see his eyes; they didn't look like the typical ones that imagined fucking me as I stood there. His were reading me, looking over my body and studying me.