She knew she shouldn’t be standing in this penthouse suite, watching the elusive man known as The Beast of Wall Street watch her from the shadows, but this was her job. Belle was obligated to be here, ordered by the escort service to fulfill her first duty in this profession, because the men that would call upon her company were not to be denied. Yes, she would be selling her body for money, and although this was her first actual “job” within the high-class escort company that catered to the wealthy men in LA, she felt out of her element. But she was broke, and could barely feed herself as she sent money home to her sick sister. This would ensure that she would make a substantial amount to support herself and Tabby.
All of the lights were off in this grand and expensively decorated apartment, but there were a few candles lit on the massively long dining room table, and the lights from the city came through the glass. He sat on a chair in the corner, the shadows not penetrating his huge form, but she knew without seeing him that this man was feared for his appearance as well as his personality. Jackson Brass, or The Beast, as he was known around LA, was horribly scarred from an automobile accident last year.
Noted as one of the wealthiest men in the city, he used the escort service rarely for female companionship, and didn’t care who knew. She had seen him before his accident, though, when she had been in school and catering to pay her bills. That seemed like ages ago now. At the age of twenty-five she was barely surviving part-time in college—thanks to her student loans—and hoped that this path in her life would help alleviate her troubles.
“Your punctuality is to be commended,” he said in a deep voice. For the hundredth time since the boss of the company had specify sent her to this job, Belle had questioned why they had sent a newbie here instead of a seasoned pro that would make sure this man had a good time.
She wasn’t a virgin, but she also had always let the guy take control when it concerned sex. Was she supposed to speak, make the first move, or order him around?
“I specifically asked for you to come to me bare. Did you obey?” he stated, and she saw this smoke waft around him from the cigar he smoked. The light from the city slashed across his face for a moment, and she get an unobstructed view of the unmarred, attractive face of the man she had lusted after since the moment she had seen him at an event, felt his aura of control and power. The catering jobs she had done for his company on more than one occasion had brought her right up with the elusive and powerful man. He had always been quiet at the functions, but his aura had been one of dominance, control, and she swore when he had glanced at her—obviously in passing and not focusing on her in specific—she had felt this pull of submission toward him. It was illogical, irrational, and made no sense, but she had felt it regardless.
Now here she was, about to be the sexual toy for this man because he had paid an undisclosed, exponential amount for her body. All she was told was that she was to do what he said, when he said it, and that there were no questions that would be asked by her.
“You speak English, right?” he said without emotion, and a hint of sarcasm.
Clearly he didn’t remember her. “Of course I speak English.” She took hold of the ties at her waist, undid the knot, and pushed the knee-length black coat off of her body. She was nude under her jacket, as per his request, and had also made sure to have her pussy waxed, again per his request. She wished she could see him clearly, but all that was visible was the smoke he exhaled from the cigar, and occasionally a swatch of the side of his unscarred face when the light moved across the room.
“Move to the center of the room so I can see you better,” he said, his voice a deep, guttural sound that had goose bumps popping out along her flesh.
She moved over to the section of light that was an ever-present square in the center of the room. There she stood, in nothing at all, but wearing these ridiculous high heels.
“Turn around.”
She did as he said.
“Spread your legs, bend at the waist, and grab your ankles.”
Her heart was starting to pound fast now, not because she was scared or embarrassed, but because she was aroused. She closed her eyes, picturing him at the last event she had been working at. He had stood on that platform giving a speech to a group of investors, and looking so commanding. Even his voice had demanded obedience, and she couldn’t help but feel that inexplicable pull toward him.
When she was in the position that he had ordered, she waited for him to respond, or order her to perform some kind of sexual act. She felt anticipated and trepidation when she had come to him, because even after seeing him that last time, she had thought about him on occasion. It also didn’t help to keep her mind off of him when he was a powerhouse in the city.