Lady in Red Read online

  Lady in Red

  Mel Teshco

  Lady in Red

  ©Copyright 2016 Mel Teshco

  Kindle Edition

  The Tule Publishing Group, LLC

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-943963-98-0

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Her Dark Guardian

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks Alissa Callen for being a wonderful critique partner!

  And to my family for their amazing patience while I lose myself in other worlds, I love you guys!

  Chapter One

  ‡

  Brandy Alexander, also known as Kate Matthews in her non-fantasy life, stepped out of the chauffeured town car that had collected her. Checking that her upswept hair was still in order, she smoothed a hand down her tiny, crimson leather dress.

  Perfect.

  Clutch bag firmly in hand, which carried the essential tools of her trade—condoms, lube, lipstick, hairpins and a cell phone, she waited until the car slid away into the night. When its taillights disappeared around a bend, she stepped toward the townhouse with its familiar red front door.

  The heels of her thigh-high boots clacked on the granite walkway that led to where her regular client waited. She licked her lips. Blaine Leo Waymann, thirty-six years young and already a billionaire businessman and philanthropist. Not to mention voted “Australia’s Bachelor of the Year” three years running by Cleo magazine readers.

  He could have had any woman he wanted, yet he’d asked specifically for her.

  Lord only knew there were enough beautiful women at the VIP Escort Agency, where she worked. Savannah, with her slender body, exotic sloe-brown eyes and black-as-night hair. Tiffany, with her gorgeous silver-blonde locks and ice-blue eyes. Or perhaps Scarlet, with her flame-red hair and pale-as-lily skin.

  A smile spread over Brandy’s face, melting the distant echo of insecurities clean away. This was why she loved her work. This was why she couldn’t give it up any time soon. She would never underrate the value of being wanted, even if it was only for one night.

  Her breath puffed in the chill night air, but she barely felt the cold. Excitement warmed her blood until she wondered if she was flushed all over.

  Hot, and past ready to be fucked.

  Dozens of tiny, discreet garden lights chased away the shadows. Brandy smiled. She could probably walk this too-familiar path blindfolded.

  She turned the doorknob, aware it wouldn’t be bolted.

  She was expected.

  Shutting the door behind her before routinely flicking its lock, she turned back to take in the expansive entryway. Marble floors and stark, white spaciousness.

  Blaine had requested that she always wear red, and she often wondered if she was his one smoldering flame in an otherwise clean-cut and conventional existence. He was a generous and considerate lover, his skill and passion between the sheets indisputable.

  He looked after those in his care. She had no doubt it was for his guests’ safety that he had a bodyguard or two stationed around the perimeter of his Sydney home. The same residence that, until recently, he’d occupied only sporadically.

  He’d been a regular client, but his appointments with her had steadily increased. His fixation with her was becoming a habit. But she knew his type. He wanted what he couldn’t have. He’d offer her the moon, and if she accepted, the game would pall and his obsession would wane.

  Her chin tilted as she squared her shoulders. She wasn’t in the business of having men lose interest in her.

  She sashayed into the living room, with its vaulted ceiling and plush cream carpet. Faint notes of Vivaldi echoed through surround sound speakers, making her entrance somehow even more surreal than usual.

  Blaine had eclectic tastes, and Brandy never really knew what to expect. Their every encounter had her gut coiled, as if it was a spring, and her body fueled with hot anticipation.

  Going by tonight’s music, it seemed his mood was deep. Passionate. Intense.

  The loud clink of ice drew her toward the adjacent room he used for entertaining. But her attention wasn’t on the bar and its upside-down bottles, or the dancing flames behind a glass domed fireplace.

  She had eyes only for Blaine.

  He’d recently had a shower, a white towel slung low on his hips and his dark hair almost inky black with moisture. With his back to her, she could afford to drink him in, appraise his athletic, toned body and olive skin, thanks to some distant Spanish heritage.

  She swallowed hard as he pivoted to face her. His smile was a lazy quirk of his lips, a vivid contrast to the darkly sinful glint in his brilliant, gold-brown stare. He stepped toward her, dwarfing her even in her ludicrously high heels. Proffering a squat glass with ice and something alcoholic, he drawled, “Beautiful as always.”

  The compliment never failed to charm. Her past never quite forgotten.

  She dropped her bag onto the nearest sofa before accepting the drink. Arching a brow, she retorted boldly, “Fuckable as always.”

  His husky laugh sent shivers all the way to her toes. She tipped back her drink and swallowed it in one hit. She sighed, relishing the slow whiskey burn that only accentuated the intense chemistry between them. She raised her glass that clinked with nothing but ice. “No brandy tonight?” He always had one ready for her in honor of her namesake.

  “Later,” he promised. He nodded toward her empty glass and asked, “Would you care for another?”

  She arched a brow and said sweetly, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to take advantage of me.”

  His eyes gleaming, he spread his arms out as if in supplication, his drink untouched in one hand. “Would you prefer to take advantage of me?”

  With a smile she stepped forward, their bodies all but touching when she handed him her glass. She slid an arm around his nape, and her other hand slipped beneath his towel. His breath hissed as she skated one long nail along the thickening, silky ridge of his shaft before she cupped the heavy weight of his balls in her palm. “Like this?” she asked.

  His stare held hers, hot and assessing. “I’m not complaining.”

  She nodded in the direction of their glasses. “How long do you think you can hold those?”

  He raised his arms to shoulder level, the ice clinking in his untouched drink. “As long as needed.” His eyes burned with desire. “I’m up for the challenge.”

  She dropped her hand from between his thighs, wondering if her smile had made it to her eyes. She took these challenges seriously, just the same as he did. But it was even more arousing knowing that Blaine was used to being the one in control. She looked up and held his stare as she reached up and dipped a finger into his untouched whiskey. “Good.”

  Her hand returned under his t
owel and she caressed the head of his hard cock with a wet finger, smearing whiskey into his slit. It had to burn, but the pain evidently balanced precariously with pleasure, as he closed his eyes for a moment on a barely audible groan.

  When his silky, long lashes flicked back open, his stare alight with desire, she felt a moment of empowerment, knowing he was all but constrained by the glasses in his hands.

  “You’ll pay for that,” he whispered throatily, his eyes glinting. “My god, you’ll pay.”

  She shivered. The scenario was akin to releasing the locks to a tiger’s cage and standing back to wait for the inevitable. But then Blaine could never be accused of being boring, especially not in the bedroom. Her hands moved to his ass cheeks, her long nails digging deep enough to hurt when she asked silkily, “Is that a threat or a promise?”

  The glasses wavered just a little in his grip. She could have purred with delight.

  “It’s whatever you want it to be,” he drawled, “times ten.”

  Her breath hitched. Triumph mingled with trepidation. His promised retribution just might be the icing on the cake, if it wasn’t for repressed self-doubt suddenly rearing its head. Even now, many years after the bullying and teasing from her peers, she had to remind herself that she was beautiful and desirable. It took the admiration and high regard of men like Blaine to remind her, without so many words, that she was no longer the insecure girl she’d once been.

  Her hands moved upward and flattened onto his chest. She stood on tiptoes, her mouth pressing over his before she touched the seam of his lips with her tongue. His growl morphed into a groan when she pushed her tongue into his mouth and rocked against him, emulating the act he paid top dollar for her to carry out.

  God, she loved the taste of him. Hot spices and contrary overtones of cool mint. But she needed to slow things down, draw out the moment. She pulled back and licked her lower lip. His eyes narrowed, following the movement.

  Dipping her finger back into the glass of whiskey, she swirled a wet trail over one of his nipples, then the other. He sucked in a breath when she leaned forward and licked each trail dry. Faint notes of soap and warm, spiced male teased her nostrils as his already hard nipples became stiff little peaks, his chest rising and falling sharply beneath her hands.

  His nipples were his erogenous zones. But with their every encounter, she varied the seduction, mixed it up to make sure her next visit wouldn’t be her last.

  As a high-class call girl, this night alone would secure her more money than what most people would earn in a handful of months. Except the money had become only a small incentive to keep her in the business. She could afford now to be choosy, her clients predominantly a select half dozen.

  She’d discovered a love for sex later in life than most girls. But unlike many of her “friends,” she’d gotten off on the empowerment that came with fucking a man senseless. The most influential of men had become completely undone by the thrill of paid sexual release while she…she had been brought to life, a goddess who’d found her calling.

  She looked up, holding Blaine’s stare as she suckled one of his nipples. A muscle in his jaw throbbed, undoubtedly in sync to the throbbing of his cock.

  Only one way to find out.

  Working her way downward, she pressed kisses over his delicious, silken warm skin, the hard lines of his torso and abs. Regular boxing, jujitsu and aikido bouts apparently kept him honed and strong. And she could certainly attest to his bedroom prowess and stamina.

  Unlike her other clients, Blaine had been open about his life. With each encounter, she’d learned a bit more about him. Little things that drew a bigger picture about him, the man.

  He was partial to cats, though he had no time in his life right now to own one. Brussels sprouts and liver were never on his menu, while old-fashioned pot roast and roasted vegetables were regular fare. And sex. He loved sex. Lots of it. But she had a strong feeling he’d be faithful once he was attached. Whoever was fortunate enough to keep his bed warm was one lucky woman indeed.

  She ignored the unwelcome flash of envy by pushing further thought aside and concentrating on her client.

  She stopped at his clenched belly to dip her tongue into his navel and swirl around its rim. His breath rushed out. But it wasn’t until she kneeled, untied the knotted towel at his hips before taking his steel-hard cock into her mouth, that his eyes slid closed and his head rocked back.

  “Sweet Jesus,” he groaned, “I don’t pay you nearly enough.”

  They both knew he could get it for free anytime he wanted, but who was she to argue the point? Even if she hadn’t left poverty behind her many years ago, her aphrodisiac would still be the man behind the money. Blaine was clearly focused and driven to have climbed the ladder of success at such a young age, and she found that a turn-on all of its own.

  The head of his cock hit the back of her throat before she slowly retreated, suckling hard as, inch by long inch, his shaft withdrew. She swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, lapping up the sticky, salty essence of his pre-cum, before his hips drove forward. With his cock pushed into the back of her mouth, he reversed the thrust, taking up a rhythm that was as decadent and primal as the taste of his essence.

  She grazed delicate teeth along his hard, veined shaft. His deep groans intensified until she wondered how he hadn’t yet exploded into her mouth.

  He abruptly withdrew. Then, depositing their glasses with a sharp clank onto a nearby occasional table, he took her hand and helped her to her feet. All the while, his eyes burned with a dangerous intensity that somehow suited the music wafting from the speakers. Violins sparkled into a crescendo, like a wave rushing across a shore.

  “Much as I’m all too tempted to spill into your mouth, I want more from you…much more,” he said.

  “Intercourse?” she asked, aware that he appreciated her dry sense of humor. Then again, he seemed to appreciate her in any guise.

  He’s never seen me slouching around in sweats and a favorite old t-shirt.

  His smile almost disarmed her, had her again momentarily yearn to be something more than his…what? Love toy? Expensive lay?

  What would it be like to be someone permanent in his life? Someone he came home to every night?

  She bit into her bottom lip to bring her mind back to the present. Stupid girl. What was wrong with her? Where were these thoughts coming from? She’d never questioned her life before, never wished for anything more.

  At least, not since she’d been a naïve young girl imagining the kind of future many women her age lived for real. But there was no point wondering about the hundred different what-might-have-been scenarios. She’d long ago embraced her chosen career.

  She cleared her face as Blaine’s brilliant eyes assessed her, seemingly reading her every thought…her every doubt. Then he smiled a little. “Intercourse…yes, if that’s what you want to call it.” With her hand still in his, he brought her farther into the room. “I’ve got just the place.”

  Something beyond excitement shuddered through her body. “Oh?”

  He stilled behind a sofa, bringing her to his front so that she could see their reflection in the huge wall mirror. Her strawberry-blonde hair should have clashed with her flame-red dress. It didn’t. Better yet, the colors were a dramatic foil to his dark coloring, the fire to his night.

  His eyes glinted with wicked intent. “I want you to watch while I make you come.”

  His head dropped low. She gasped when he raked splayed hands through her hair and tugged her back.

  Oh god.

  Her scalp burned a little at the pressure. But his mouth burned hotter still across her throat, sending a lightning bolt of need through her nerve endings, and a flood of moisture straight to her pussy.

  It was beyond erotic to watch him take control, his expertise obvious and his restraint somehow sexy. His large hands moved down the bodice of her dress and cupped her breasts. Without the restriction of a bra, his thumbs all too easily caressed her alre
ady hard nipples into sharp little points.

  His dark head moved slowly, luxuriously up her nape. When he took her earlobe into his mouth and suckled, she arched into him on a groan, a round of shivers rippling through her body.

  She could only be glad his big body was behind her, supporting her weakened knees. Right now, she could barely function beyond the most basic level of awareness. Perhaps that was why she didn’t at first notice that he’d moved his hands from her breasts to take hold of her front zipper?

  Soft, cool air caressed her bared skin. The hot, hard throb of his cock pressed against the small of her back. She dropped her arms and Blaine stepped back for a beat, her dress sliding free from her shoulders and landing on the floor in a whisper of sound. Leaving her in a barely there, lacy, crimson thong.

  “Dance for me,” he rasped in her ear.

  Taking her cue from the violins, she slithered down, against his hardness, then back up again. Her eyes glinted back at her in the mirror as she coiled her arms above her head, her hips sashaying to the magical notes pulsing through the room. She reached back and clasped his nape, bringing him nearer still.

  On a heavily exhaled breath, he reciprocated, trailing kisses once again down her throat and suckling at her flesh while she gyrated against him. Her lips parted and her eyelids fluttered half shut as a furnace of heat built inside her.

  Some kind of expletive, that sounded much like a benediction, filled her ears. Then his legs kicked apart so that he was spread-eagle behind her, and eye-level to her in the mirror. His cock slid between her ass cheeks and glanced over her aching clit. She gasped. With only her flimsy lace thong as a barrier, nerve endings flared into life, pooling warmth between her thighs.

  He pushed a hand down the front of her thong, using a finger to probe between the slick folds of her flesh. “You’re so wet for me.”

  That was a gross understatement. But then he’d always gotten off on the fact that she was wet for him on demand. What normal girl wouldn’t be though?