Tempted By the Player (Suite Noir #2)

Chapter 1

I nodded. ‘Yes. That’s very important in a pitch-black room.’

When she’d enquired about cock size, the interviewees’ typical reaction was to smirk and say, ‘It’s big, believe me’—the guys applying for this job certainly weren’t shrinking violets. But if they thought that Mia would be satisfied with a verbal confirmation, they were wrong.

‘Another “thumbs-down”, Prim,’ she’d call over. ‘He’s five inches, if that.’

‘Women aren’t paying hundreds of pounds for an average-sized wiener. They want to be impressed and satisfied. Plus, you’ve got big shoes to fill. Kit was a legend at Suite Noir.’

Yikes, no need to give them a complex, I thought.

But she was right. Kit was our most popular guy.

All the ladies wanted the hot professor.

However, he was resigning, and we had two weeks, while he worked out his notice period, to find a replacement.

I wasn’t surprised he’d quit. Though his body had been as responsive to client demands as ever, his heart and mind weren’t in the job anymore, since he’d fallen for a client.

Somehow they’d managed to make their relationship work for the last six months, but she must really love him a lot to be willing to turn a blind eye to his side gig.

No way in hell would I let any boyfriend of mine work at Suite Noir!

Not that I had any time for dating. Mia kept me pretty busy with running the marketing side of things.

Mia crossed her long, slim legs under the desk we were sitting behind and sipped the coffee I’d made her.

Along with the fuchsia top and lime-green bra, she was wearing stretchy black yoga pants (for easy access).

The bright colours complemented her creamy skin and black, shiny bob.

I felt drab by comparison with my blonde hair neatly tied back in a bun and tortoiseshell glasses.

Even my black pencil skirt and crisp white blouse were boring.

Then again, Mia had hired me because I was sensible and professional, and she trusted me to be upfront with her.

She’d inherited a large sum of money, thanks to a rich, dead uncle, and had decided to launch Suite Noir, an exclusive in-the-dark pleasure venue for women to explore their fantasies.

I was pretty sure her uncle would be rolling in his grave if he knew what she’d done with his money, but then again, maybe not.

Mia had a reputation in her family for being a wild child, so no one was too surprised when she announced her business venture. Not even her prudish aunt Betsy.

I was one of the few friends from school she’d kept in touch with.

One day, knowing I worked in marketing, she contacted me and asked if I wanted to come and work for her.

I’d been a little reluctant at first, but then she offered me a salary I couldn’t refuse.

I’d started at Suite Noir when it opened a year earlier.

We worked well together, but there was one thing I couldn’t stand. My name was Primrose, yet Mia insisted on calling me “Prim”, no matter how many times I corrected her. It made me feel like a Victorian governess rather than the marketing executive of a male brothel.

Mia sighed, placing her cup on the Suite Noir coaster—black with gold trim. ‘Is that the last of them? Honestly, coffee isn’t doing it for me. I need a stiff drink.’

I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to make a joke after all the penises we’d seen today.

‘Ah.’ I ran my eye down the spreadsheet on my laptop. I’d been typing notes on each of the candidates we’d seen as we went. ‘There’s one appointment left. Mitchell Maddox.’

‘Okay, well, hopefully Mitchell gets my panties wet. Because they’ve been disappointingly dry all day.’

When Mitchell Maddox strode into the room, Mia sat up straighter in her chair. ‘Alright, now we’re talking,’ she muttered under her breath.

I could see the appeal. Mitchell was the best-looking guy we’d seen so far. Dressed in a grey suit and white shirt, he was tall, dark-blond and well-built. A face and body that women would look at twice on the street. I kept my fingers crossed that he had what Mia needed in his boxers.

‘Hi Mitchell, thanks for coming in this afternoon. Please take a seat.’

‘No worries,’ he said in a gravelly voice that made the hairs stand up on the backs of my arms, and I sensed Mia clenching her thighs. Quickly, I made a note on my spreadsheet: M has a panty-melting sexy voice!

Both of us watched as Mitchell manspread in the black leather office chair, his suit pants straining at the crotch. There was definitely an “I’m hot and I know it” attitude going on. This was good, as the guy we were looking for needed to have charisma in the dark.

‘So, I’m Mia Larkin, managing director of Suite Noir, and this is my marketing exec, Prim—’

‘Primrose,’ I interrupted.

Mia flashed me a side-eye. ‘Primrose Johnson. I’ll be running you through a few questions to see if you’re what we’re looking for. I take it you’re familiar with what the position entails from the job spec we sent you?’

Mitchell nodded, looking unfazed. ‘Yep, all good with that. And you can call me Mitch if you want.’

So far, so good, I thought. And Mia loved nicknames.

‘Cool. Well, Mitch, before we get started, I should warn you that this isn’t going to be a typical interview.

Not only in terms of the questions. There’s a hands-on element in the first round.

And if you make it to the second round, there will be sexual activity involved, so I can assess your suitability for the job... ’

Mitch raised an eyebrow. ‘Would the sexual activity be with you? Or both of you,’ he asked brazenly, staring at Mia’s generous breasts. He’d glanced at mine briefly but obviously found them wanting.

‘Just with me,’ said Mia. ‘Primrose will take notes and observe. Is that okay?’

A small smile played around Mitch’s mouth as he stared at Mia’s tits again. ‘Very okay,’ he drawled huskily.

‘Perfect,’ Mia said, sounding composed, but by the way she was shifting in her seat, I could tell she was getting turned on by him. Great, finally. I made a note on my spreadsheet: M has sexy presence!

Mia tapped her pen against her glossy lip, looking at the list of questions on her notepad. There were some pretty intimate ones on there, and I was interested, despite myself, as to which she would start with and how Mitch would answer.

‘So what was it that drew you to this job?’ asked Mia, deciding to start with a safe one.

Mitch considered, biting his lip. For a moment, his eyes looked guarded, then he clasped his hands in his lap and lifted his square chin. ‘Honestly? The thought of having a lot of sex,’ he said. ‘I like fucking.’

The air in the room seemed to get ten degrees hotter all of a sudden. Mia stopped tapping her pen abruptly.

‘Ah, that’s a good start,’ she said faintly, sounding as if she was struggling to focus. ‘Enjoying sex is a major part of the job. But we’re looking for someone who can help women explore their fantasies safely. Is that something that interests you?’

Mitch smirked. ‘If you mean am I interested in making women orgasm, definitely.’

‘Great! What do you consider to be your main sexual strength?’ asked Mia.

The answers to this question had varied until now. Most men had played it safe, saying they were good at foreplay. Which was a bit of a humdrum answer.

‘Let’s see, there are a few,’ said Mitch, with a slow grin. ‘But if I can only choose one, then I’d say I’m pretty good at edging. Like, women are usually a sweaty, gasping mess by the time I’m finished with them.’

Mia let out a long, slow breath beside me, and I glanced at her. She was looking at Mitch as if he was a sirloin steak.

‘If you can pull that off with me, then you’ve definitely got the job,’ she purred, and I heard the arousal in her voice. I quickly made a note: M=edging=sweaty mess. Rnd 2?

Things were solidifying if Mia was thinking of trying Mitch out next door. We’d set up an air mattress in the empty office next door for any candidates whom Mia wanted to take to the second round. So far, not one of them had “enticed her to get horizontal”.

‘But…’ continued Mia, and I knew what was coming next. My spirits sank. If Mitch was all talk and no trousers, he’d be getting a thumbs-down from Mia. ‘It’s really important that you have a good-sized cock. I’m looking for at least eight inches erect. Sorry, I know it’s a lot to ask.’

I was expecting Mitch to say, ‘Oh well, it was worth a shot, thanks anyway. I’ll see myself out.’

But a faintly disparaging look crossed his face. ‘Only eight?’ he drawled. ‘I think I can do much better than that.’