Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
ROSETTE
As the haze of sex drifted off and I lay against Mr. Roth on the back seat, I’d hoped he would put his arms around me. That he would say something to me, something kind, perhaps. Something that meant he didn’t really believe I was a filthy slut, or whatever he had called me.
But he didn’t, and that was what made me feel truly dirty.
I throw my pantyhose in the trash along with my underwear, then climb into the shower. I scrub every last inch of myself, then use plenty of products on my skin and hair before getting out.
This is what I wanted, and yet I’m furious at myself now for wanting it. Today was incredible, exactly what I hoped for. Everything I could have dreamed of—getting fucked against Mr. Roth’s desk, riding his lap in the car.
Right now, though, I feel like I was emotionally run over by a truck.
After throwing together a quick stir-fry, I flop down on the couch. Usually I try to get to the gym, maybe see some of my friends, but tonight I just want to vegetate and mope.
I fall asleep watching some crime show, which is much more soothing than you’d think.
Then I’m up again the next day, trying to put on my game face. Be a good assistant and definitely don’t catch feelings for your boss.
The car is, surprisingly, a couple of minutes late to pick me up. When I get in the back, Mr. Roth sits in his usual seat, his arms crossed, that focused frown on his face. As always, I pull out my phone and look at the calendar, reading off a list of our first few appointments.
When I’m finished, though, Mr. Roth actually speaks to me.
“I have something for you, Ms. Kristoff.”
I watch with curiosity as he reaches into the footwell and picks up a paper bag, which he then passes to me. I open it up to peer inside to find a new pair of black tights and a skimpy red lingerie set, much like what I was wearing yesterday.
Replacements for the underwear he ruined.
I’m not sure what to think of it. Mr. Roth has never given me a gift before.
“Oh, thank you,” I say. Maybe I misread him yesterday. Maybe he simply doesn’t know how to show his emotions.
Mr. Roth grunts and turns his head away to look out the window.
When we’ve finished the morning appointments, we return to the office for a few hours to attend some corporate meetings. These are Mr. Roth’s least favorite, and he always comes out of them in a bad mood.
“Waste of time,” he’ll say with a distasteful curl of his lip. But it’s a requirement, and one he can’t skip.
I wait in his office, typing up notes to occupy myself. When Mr. Roth storms back into the room, he looks even more annoyed than usual.
“Quarterly reports,” he snarls, slamming his office door behind him so hard that I worry it’ll shatter the glass. I think it’s actually plastic, though.
“I’ll set aside time.” I scroll through the calendar, looking for a few hours I can mark off for working on them. While I’m busy with my task, Mr. Roth lowers the curtains to his office, blocking us from sight.
This time, he grabs me by the ass and sits me on the very edge of the desk, lifting my thighs up as he settles his massive waist between them. I’m still accustomed to him from yesterday, so he fits in easily, sighing with contentment as he buries himself in me up to the hilt.
I keep my voice down as he fucks me against the desk, the whole thing creaking with the force of his thrusts. He makes sure that I get there, too, pausing to rub my clit as he takes me, but I don’t come like a freight train the way I did yesterday.
Again, he gives me a single tissue to clean up and insists I don’t wipe off the rest. He sniffs the air as he opens the curtains again, then returns to his desk chair, continuing with his day as if nothing happened.
I settle back in my seat, pretending everything is normal when the receptionist comes in to ask a question. This should all be my ideal situation—getting fucked like I’ve always wanted by my boss during the day, working my job at night. So why does Mr. Roth treating this so casually… kind of hurt?
The week continues that way, on into the next. I don’t see him at all that weekend at Octavio’s, which makes me certain of what I already knew: that all I’m good for is a warm body. He has no need of Velvet anymore.
On Thursday afternoon, I say goodbye like I always do when George drops me off at my apartment, then head up to get changed and ready for Octavio’s. I barely have the heart for it, though. If a client wants to go to a back room tonight, I might not have it in me.
I’m not surprised at all when Mr. Roth doesn’t show up.
I spend my time with other clients, trying to stay focused on conversations, trying to enjoy it when they touch me the way I like to be touched.
It’s always been a pleasure of mine to be used, to be passed around and groped and fondled. To be watched and seen and enjoyed.
But I find I miss him. I miss the orc who showed up just to eat me out, just to bury his face in my pussy. I’ll probably never see him at Octavio’s again, now that I’m his toy at work.
Oh well. I should have known from the beginning that’s what this was.
I need to get with the program. There’s nothing for me with my boss, and besides—I don’t need anything else.
I have everything I could want between my two jobs.
Maybe I have to keep what we do a secret during the day, but I get to be seen all night.
It’s probably better this way. Less complicated.
I’m sitting on one man’s lap while his friend feels up my tits. They’re enjoying watching each other play with me when someone massive steps into the VIP room. Someone who commands the attention of everyone there.
It’s Mr. Roth, and within moments, he’s looming over us like the shadow of a mountain, his lips curled down into a devastating scowl.
“Vincent,” I say, sitting upright. For a moment, I feel ashamed that he’s seeing me like this, engaged with two other men. But then I remember this is my job, and he knows that. I have no reason to be ashamed when he came here as a client himself once upon a time.
“Who are you?” the first man says to our visitor. I think he said his name was John or something like that. He grips my hips where I sit on his lap. “We’re a little busy here.”
Vincent’s brows lower dangerously over his eyes, and he makes a noise I can only describe as a snarl. “Get your hands off her.”
The second man in the party quickly releases my tits, intimidated by the huge orc standing over us. But John isn’t going to back down so easily.
“I’m paying good money for this,” he snaps, which is bold for a human in the face of an orc who could snap him in half without trying. “Go find your own girl.”
Vincent leans closer, his sharp, dangerous tusks jutting out of his massive jaw. “She’s mine.” He reaches toward the man as if to grab him by the throat, but reflexively, I knock his hand away.
How dare he come in here while I’m working and scare off my clients? He already gets me five days a week. And he’s never once claimed I was his at the office.
He’s made it very clear to me what we are.
“Stop it.” I glare daggers to get my message across. “I’m not yours.”
Vincent retracts his hand, curling it into a fist, and opens his mouth to argue—but I narrow my eyes, waiting for him to contradict me.
“This is my job, Vincent,” I say, staying firmly in my seat on John’s lap. “You know that.”
“But Velvet—”
“But nothing. Leave us alone.”
Vincent’s eyes widen as he stands up straighter, both of his hands flexing at his sides. I think he wants to lay into my two clients with said fists, so I say, “You aren’t entitled to me. If you don’t like it, then leave.”
Already though, the second man who’d been groping me is paying his bill in cash and getting up. John scoots me off his lap and follows suit, neither of them wanting to get into a tussle with a seven-foot orc.
“Wait!” I call out to them.
“Sorry, we’re not here for competition.” John slaps his money on the table and doesn’t glance back at me when he leaves.
Now I’m alone, and my anger’s building. This could have been a really profitable night for me with two people to entertain, and now I have no one.
I glare at Vincent. “What are you doing?” I demand, rising to my feet. “You scared them off!”
“So? They weren’t worthy of you anyway.” His face doesn’t show a shred of regret.
“That’s not the point! They were paying customers.”
He frowns deeper. “I can pay you more.”
I grind my teeth together at how dense he’s acting. This isn’t just a job for me. It’s fun for me, to be lusted after by so many people. And now he’s ruining it.
“What are you even doing here?” I ask miserably, falling back into a seat at the table. “I thought you weren’t going to come back.”
He furrows his brow, and he sits down in the chair beside me. “Why wouldn’t I come to see Velvet?”
“Because now you get everything you want from Rosette.”
That crease gets deeper. “Everything I want,” he echoes.
I sigh, putting my face in my hands. “If those guys complain to my boss, I could lose this job.”
“Then I’ll give you a raise,” Vincent says, putting a hand on my back.
I shake him off. “You don’t get it. I don’t do it for the money.”
It’s like I’ve spoken a foreign language to him, the way he searches my face for answers. “Then why do you do it?”
“Because I enjoy it!” I want to stomp my foot. “Because I like being wanted by people. Being seen.”
“But I see you all day,” he says, leaning closer. “And you’re wanted. All day. By me.”
Now he’s sparking a fury in me. How can he act like this is something more than it is, when he’s made it clear where I stand?
“All this ‘mine’ bullshit?” I say, pushing him away. “Nobody owns me. Especially not you.”
Vincent recoils as if I’ve slapped him.
“You can’t deny it,” he says. “You rode my cock just a few hours ago.”
I can’t stand it anymore. Suddenly, I don’t care if he’s my boss. He’s intruded on my space and scared off my customers, on top of treating me like his own personal prostitute. Now he wants to control me outside of work, too?
“Get out,” I say in a low voice. “I want you to leave.”
He stares at me. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” I wave a hand at the bouncer, who rises from his seat. “Go. Before security shows you out.”
Vincent might be a big guy, but the bouncers at Octavio’s don’t play around. They’ll swarm him like flies until he goes down if he causes any trouble.
My boss stares at me like he doesn’t recognize me, then rises to his feet. He holds up his hands as the bouncer approaches.
“I’m leaving,” he grumbles, shoving past the big centaur. Vincent shoots me one last infuriated look before storming out of the VIP room.
Now I’ve lost my business for the night, and who knows what he’ll do to me at work tomorrow? I wonder if I’ve just destroyed my own career for this stupid gig.
“You all right?” the bouncer asks. “I thought you and that orc were chummy.”
“Not anymore. And he should go on the list.” It’s a ledger of people no longer allowed into Octavio’s.
Though he’s surprised, the bouncer doesn’t argue with me. Now I won’t have to worry about seeing Mr. Roth here again. And at least if I get fired from my day job, I’ll still have this and my savings to keep me afloat.
Fuck. This night went as poorly as possible. I hope I haven’t made a huge mistake.