Chapter 2
TWO
MASE
The soft knock on the penthouse door jolts me from my thoughts, and I gasp like a lovesick teenager. My pulse races and my blood thickens with heightened expectation.
When we chose my first Indulgence woman, I didn’t want someone with a multitude of experience despite Tate’s encouragement to do so.
I wanted someone who was as innocent as me and maybe only had minimal partners like me too.
Not someone every fucker has been inside of for the right price, and Innocent Angel is that girl.
I clear my throat and broaden my shoulders. “Come in!” I say the words a little too loudly in an attempt to mask my nervousness.
My palms are sweaty, so I swipe them down my jeans, hoping she won’t be able to tell I lack confidence. I’m on a mission to prove to her I’m everything she needs, if only for tonight.
The door opens, and I snap my gaze in her direction. The moment my eyes land on her, I suck in a sharp breath, and all ability to speak, to move, is stolen from me.
She’s smaller than I imagined, fresh-faced with not a lick of makeup on, just as I asked.
My mouth becomes dry as we hold one another’s stare.
Her long blonde hair is in a braid resting over her shoulder, glowing under the hallway light, and I fucking love it.
She’s like an innocent siren, calling to me and willing me to protect her.
She reminds me of a librarian or something.
A good girl.
The blonde hair is not what I asked Indulgence for, but fuck me, do I like it.
Her pale skin is begging me to mark it, and my cock twitches at the thought.
Fuck me, where the hell did that come from?
Her cheeks pinken as she watches me with bright-blue eyes, causing my chest to restrict at the intensity behind them.
She’s stripping me bare, just as I am her.
It’s like I am looking into her soul, seeing her own anxiety and nervousness, her innocence.
She’s natural, with an edge of girl next door about her, she wrings her hands in front of her, giving away her discomfort.
When I said I didn’t want someone like my wife, I wasn’t quite prepared for this. The girl standing in the hallway is the complete opposite, and my cock is well and truly on board with the prospect.
She’s in a white sundress, and her tits are on display beneath the fabric.
They’re on the smaller side, but not tiny; they fit her small frame perfectly.
The thought of feeling the naturalness of them has my cock weeping.
I can just make out her panties beneath the fabric of the virtually see-through dress, and I’m happy to see they’re plain and not the skimpy lace, just as I requested. Innocence personified.
My hand trembles as I reach for my bottle of whiskey, and if I even attempt to pour myself another glass, it’s going to end up all over me, so I take a swig of the bottle, hoping I look cooler than I feel.
“Do you want a drink?” I grunt out. “If you do, there’s a bar over there.” I tilt my head toward said bar, mainly because I’m so damn nervous I don’t have it in me to walk, let alone make her a fucking drink.
She shakes her head, and it only emphasizes the blonde locks as the silky braid sways against her shoulder.
“No, thank you.” She rolls her hands in front of her, and I want to do something to comfort her, but I can’t help but wonder if this is all part of the innocent act, what I’m paying for.
My teeth grind together, another fucking manipulative woman.
Jesus, I’m such a fucking hopeless idiot. I scrub a hand over my head, hating the way my demons consume me. Then, with a heavy sigh, I lock gazes with her again.
“Are you going to come and service me? Or do I need a fucking refund already?”
She jolts, and I imagine my sharp tone and harsh words have hit her hard, but it’s the truth, a deep-seated hatred of truth burning deep inside me. She’s essentially a prostitute, an actress; this isn’t a fucking date. It’s a fuck I’ve paid for.
And I intend to treat it as such.
I will not get drawn into another woman’s web of lies.
Nope. I’ll use them—like they use me.