I didn't wait.
"Ang, what the fuck were you thinking?" He grabbed my arm to stop me.
I pulled it back and kept walking. Marc wasn't used to me doing anything more than lying on my back and taking his limp-dicked abuse. I knew better... now.
His good looks and charm weren't going to work on me now. I'd been bowled over by his all-American quarterback good looks with his blond hair, blue eyes, and perfectly tailored suits. The poster boy for how to look rich.
"When? Just now when I showed your sex tape to the club members, or when I was having an amazing threesome with those hot, sexy boy-toys?"
Sure, I'd claim responsibility for disgracing him. It was more than he'd been willing to do.
"What the hell has gotten into you? Are you on drugs?"
"No, Marc. I don't need any mind-altering substances to know you're a pinche pendejo."
He rolled his eyes at me. "You know I don't understand Spanish."
Hay, Dios mio, had he always been such a whiny baby? "Oh, I'm sorry." I put on my best helpful mommy voice. "Would you like me to translate? I called you a fucking dickhead."
"Jesus, Ang. Does your father know you've become such a trashy whore?"
Oh. There it was. There was the bastard.
"I'm not the one who sells myself for access to other people's money." I couldn't help the bite to my voice. Deep breath. No good came from engaging with Marc's morals.
He'd come into my life when all my friends were getting married and I was on the sidelines, not even the bridesmaid, never the bride. Compliments and flowers and wining and dining were all it had taken to sweep me off my feet and into his manipulative lair. I hated that old life.
Time to get a new one. One with lots of sex, and less lies. I slid on my sunglasses and strutted down the walk, leaving Marc gaping like the cold fish he was and fumbling over feeble come backs.
Seeing myself in that video, with two men wrapped around me, giving me pleasure, taking it in return, and knowing that Gray was watching me had given me an idea.
I pulled out my phone and dialed my father's secretary. She had the contact I needed to put my idea into motion.
If Gray thought he could keep his cool when I was with two men, let's see what more would do.
"Hello Judy. Yes, this is Angelina. Do you have the number for Gloria Forsyth?"
I waited while she hmm'd and haw'd, then made her excuse.
"Judy. You're not dumb and neither am I. I know exactly what Gloria does and for whom. Don't you worry your head about that."
She finally agreed to message me the number. I added it to my contacts before I got to the car. I'd have to wait until I was alone to call her.
I had no doubt given enough monetary persuasion she could do exactly what I wanted.
Grayson had the engine running and waiting for my escape. No denying now that he'd planned that viewing party.
He held my door open, looking very much the part of the man-servant. I knew better. Underneath that uniform was my only real friend and as soon as I could finagle it, my lover. My dirty, nasty, dominant, extremely generous, lover.
CHAPTER TEN
The Plan
Gray drove us through traffic like he was in a sports car instead of a town car. Damn, the man knew how to make me and my vehicles purr. Too bad he wouldn't. Make me purr, that is.
Not yet, anyway.
I preferred the smaller cars over the limo and I refused to sit in the back like he wanted me to. Much more intimate and easier to talk. Also, I could lust over that sweet spot right behind his ear that needed licking.
He could make anything with a motor go, and he certainly revved mine. He was a corny hat shy of being an expert sea captain when we were out on the boat. I would have missed many a downtown dinner if he hadn't known how to fly me from the estate to the high-rise helipad at Cruz towers. There wasn't a car, truck, motorcycle or any other vehicle with wheels he couldn't drive.
I had my fair share of sexual fantasies starring me and Gray on a boat, in a helicopter, in the back of a car or truck, but most of them centered around Gray and his motorcycle. There was something about having that much power between my legs.
Whew, I was getting hot and bothered just thinking about it.
He kept glancing over at me in the seat next to him. Was he thinking about it too? I sure hoped so.
"Angel, this is the weirdest, bordering on illegal, harebrained scheme I've ever heard of."
So, no. He wasn't thinking about me bent over his bike, his hands up my skirt...
"Are you listening to me? I don't think you should do this. Who has a harem of men?"
I did. Or I would soon. Gray wouldn't play with me, so I found someone, several someones, who would.
"I'm finally doing something productive with my money instead of real estate spending sprees like my father does."
My father had no say in how I managed my wealth. It wasn't his. Never was. Mama always said a girl needed some independence.
The rest of the people in my world, my ex-fiancé included, had expected me to be the posh debutante. Use my money for charitable foundations and be a philanthropist or something else the upper crust did. I gave plenty of my time and money to worthy causes. It didn't mean anything, nameless faces getting nameless money.
I'd seriously never thought about other options before. If I wasn't going to be a Fifth Avenue housewife I needed a new plan. My choices had always been simple. Either marriage or become the CEO/owner/founder of a multi-billion-dollar international business. Quite honestly nobody thought the second path existed for me. But those were the choices for the filthy rich. Use your money for good or evil.
I chose option number three, and it had become my new plan. No more housewifery for me. I was going to use my money for sex.
It wasn't a long-term plan. But I didn't need to decide what to do with the rest of my life, yet. One life-altering change at a time.
"It's not harebrained. I provide an opportunity in exchange for a service. Sounds like a good business proposition to me." I'd spent a lot of time putting the idea together.
Okay, three days. But it felt right. For the first time in as long as I could remember I had an idea of my very own and nobody was putting the kibosh on it.
Gray screeched around a corner, pulled the car to a fast stop. Showed exactly how much I'd gotten under his skin. He was usually much more careful with me than that. I'm not sure I'd ever even jerked against my seatbelt before.
He shut off the engine and pierced me with one of his I'm-here-to-protect-you glares. "Angel, you're talking about prostitution."
No, I wasn't. Not really.
Kind of.
I rolled my eyes and picked at a newly chipped nail. Must have done it flipping the bird so many times at the club. That had been great. This was going to be too, despite Gray's reservations. I had none. Not one. Really. "It's not like I'm a madam."
"You're paying men to have sex with you." His voice took on that growl that I normally found sexy. The brat in me rolled around in his ire like a kitten in catnip.
"I'm offering a scholarship and guaranteed admittance to a top university, plus room and board. These guys would be having lots of sex anyway. I'm simply asking them to limit their sexual escapades to me."
Gray latched onto a lock of my hair. He wrapped it around his finger, playing with it. "I know I said you needed to go out and find yourself, do some sexual exploration, but this is not what I meant."
His voice had dropped to that husky I-want-you sound that instantly dampened my panties. He could ask me to do almost anything in that tone of voice and I'd be begging to please.
Except this.
I still knew down to my core that Gray wanted me. But he didn't want to want me.
I pushed his hand away. "I don't need another boyfriend, and I don't want a series of random one-night stands." Although my first and last one-night stand had been pretty epic. "I want to know my partners are safe and I'll be more comfortable trying different things with someone I know."
Those someones whom I knew wouldn't have a problem with my curves. I didn't want to be with anyone who was settling. I was a BBW and if I embraced my curves, I damn sure expected the men I bedded to do the same.
Even thinking that was a whole new world for me. I'd had so little self-worth for as long as I could remember. I wasn't at a hundred percent, but I was well on my way. Getting comfortable in my own skin counted for tons of percentage points. Hot raunchy sex with men who found me desirable freed me to practice feeling sexy myself.
I wanted to call Ian and Hawk up. I'd be very happy asking them to come out and play again. They both had proved to me in all the best ways that just because I wasn't a size six, or even a size sixteen, I was still beautiful, lust-worthy, fuckable.