Chapter 1
Our lips locked in a fiery passion, tongues dancing against each other. I tugged at the restraints around my wrists, desperately wanting to run my hands through his hair. I felt his lips curve upwards, taking joy in my discomfort.
He wrapped one hand softly around my throat as he pulled away from our kiss, his lips leading a trail of kisses to my breasts. His mouth wrapped around one nipple, while his free hand pinched the other. He was licking, sucking, pinching and pulling on me, and I was a wriggling, moaning mess underneath him.
He stopped the assault on my nipples and he traveled further down until I felt his breath over my pussy. I squirmed and wiggled my hips, trying to get closer to him, needing his touch. He chuckled above me, sending heat straight to my core.
"My little kitten is so needy. Do you want my cock, little one?"
His thick Irish accent filled my ears and I moaned, rolling my head back against the pillow.
"Ye-yes please, fuck me." I moaned to him, unashamed of my needy behavior. He hummed in amusement and ran his nails lightly against my thighs.
"Oh kitten I love how wet and ready you are for me. I'm gonna fill you wit-"
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
The sound of my alarm pulls me away from my sexual fantasy and back into reality. I groan in pain as I roll over to stop the noise. I wish I could live in my fantasy with the unknown Irishman instead of this.
I have no idea who the man is who visits my dreams. I never see a face, I only hear his alluring Irish accent. And I don't know any Irishmen. I wish he would just hop out of my dreams and come rescue me. But that won't happen. He's probably not even real, just my brain creating an escape from reality.
I guess I should introduce myself.
Hi, my name is Selena and I live in a whorehouse.
Well, I guess it's not really a whorehouse. The business is a dance strip club, but there's a secret business off the main books.
Sex contracts. The manager, Josh, implemented them just about four years ago. He said it was a way to help the dancers who needed extra money, but I knew it was more for himself. He's the kind of guy to skim off the top, if you know what I mean.
"Selena!" Josh's angry voice pulled me from my thoughts. Speak of the devil... "Get dressed and get the fuck down here!"
I sigh and sit up, trying to rub the sleep from my eyes. 3 hours of sleep does nothing when your body is pushed past its limits. Josh was extra rough last night, the bruises on my ribs stinging with each breath I took.
Josh isn't just my manager. He's also my keeper, my...master. He found me on the streets nine years ago. My father had just died, and my mother fled, leaving me behind. I was only 17. I dropped out of school and went to work full-time, but I couldn't pay the bills on the house. I was able to stay in that house for four months, until they put a foreclosed sign on the door.
I left the house and most of my belongings behind, besides a backpack of clothes, food, and my father's favorite watch. I know I could've sold it for a pretty penny to help me, but I couldn't bear giving away the last piece of him. So I suffered in silence.
Josh found me one day, digging through the trash to find my next meal. His eyes twinkled and his smile was inviting. He was kind back then. If only I had known...
I pull my shoes on and tie my hair in a quick ponytail. I open the door and start downstairs to see what the devil wanted. On the one hand, it was really nice to live above my workplace.
I see Josh standing at the bar, in a heated argument with a delivery man. I make my way over to them, curious to what was going on.
"I am 100 fucking cases short!! Where the hell is my brandy? My whiskey's?? I'm not paying for shit!"
I could see the delivery man was beyond nervous. Beads of sweat forming on his brows, fidgeting with his clipboard. He opens his mouth several times to try to speak, but Josh won't give him the chance.
Before I had the chance to speak, Josh whirls around and slaps me hard across the cheek. I gasp in pain, my head spinning from the force. I don't cry or yell, don't lift my eyes from the ground. Years of abuse taught me better than to make sound or eye contact when he's like this.
"What the fuck is taking you so goddamn long?? You're supposed to help get shit set up for tonight! We're already behind schedule and this idiot doesn't know how to fucking count so I'm short on alcohol now as well!"
Tonight? What was going on tonight? Wait. What's today's date again? August...17th? Oh shit. The big birthday party! Josh's friend, Andrew, wanted to host a birthday party to a friend of his. Apparently a very wealthy friend.
"What... what do you need me to do?" I ask, hoping not to incur anymore of his wrath.
"Start setting up the tables. Tablecloths and centerpieces. Then start hanging the lanterns. Amy should be here soon to help." Josh turns his attention back to the delivery man, and I turned away to start my job, licking the blood from my split lip.
