When it comes to sex, street hooker Sasha is a guy to die for. His blow jobs are things of legend, his thing is guaranteed to make you blow. Everybody wants him. But few can afford him.
So when mysterious, magnetic and immortal Kyan offers 5K for one night, Sasha ditches semi-regular and, as it turns out, very jealous, Tanner for a night he'll never forget.
In more ways than one.
Watching the action from across the way, Sasha leaned against the wrought-iron railing that ran down the length of the street. There was always an air of jubilation at Woody's that made every night feel like New Year's Eve. Tonight was no different. Sasha stood well apart from the boisterous throng--and not just in terms of location. He wasn't in the mood to party. Hadn't been for some time. The life was starting to get him down and for the first time in a long while, Sasha wanted out.
But to do what?
And with whom?
Glancing to the left, he watched as a black Audi rounded the corner and inched cautiously down the street. Sasha didn't need to look twice to know who was inside. Robert Tanner. They all knew Tanner. A semi-regular client of Sasha's--if you could call three times semi-regular--the short, chubby and married magazine mogul with a receding hairline and a pockmarked face left a lot to be desired in the way of looks.
He always wanted it rough, real rough, and he had the off-putting tendency to cry when he came. But his shortcomings did not include a cheap streak. He was always prepared to fork over the bucks for a good fuck, and more unusually, to tip, and tip handsomely, saying, I always reward good service. One could say that Tanner's wallet was as fat as he was. Sasha could always count on a prosperous pay packet with the publishing tycoon. Regardless, he hid a wince as the car came to a full stop opposite him and the shaded window on the passenger side slid down.
"What's up?" Tanner leaned across the leather seat and peered out.
Sasha shrugged and glanced away. "Nothing."
"I can change that."
Sasha looked back at Tanner. The man was smiling. Strike that. Smirking. Tanner liked to toss out these quick little one-liners that he thought were both cool and hot. But they weren't. Actually, they made Sasha want to puke. He stared at the uneven row of teeth, his gaze moving up to the sheen of sweat glistening on Tanner's forehead. From time to time it took everything Sasha had to get hard for a job--get hard and stay hard. Clearly, this was going to be one of those times. His heart was never into it, though one or both of his heads usually were. But tonight with Tanner?
No part of him was up to the task.
"Well?" Tanner taunted. "Are you coming?"
Only if a miracle happens.
Then one did.
Sasha's cock stirred at the cool breath that had brushed his ear. Turning toward the low voice, his eyebrows shot skyward.
The guy was standing right beside him.
A seasoned child of the street, Sasha's sixth sense was well honed. He always made a point of knowing who was around him. In actuality, he'd only been caught off guard once--and he still had the scar to prove it. The fact that this guy had materialized out of nowhere and waltzed right up to Sasha without attracting his attention was downright unnerving. Even more unsettling though, was the guy himself.
He was--what was the word?
Oh yeah. Perfect.
The flawless skin of his chiseled, handsome face practically glimmered under the streetlights, its extraordinarily pale color making his streaky blond hair look dark by comparison. His eyes were the lightest shade of green imaginable--a romance writer would call it sea foam--and when his eyes locked with Sasha's, the whole world grew so still Sasha could feel his own heartbeat as it pounded, hard and fast, in his ears.
And his cock.
No worries about getting it up for ol' Tanner now.
Tanner stretched further across the seat and squinting at the modelesque figure, gawked out the window, his exaggerated, gaping mouth giving him a buck-toothed look. "What are you? His fucking secretary?"
Sasha was still staring at the guy. Not that he had a choice. Truth be told, he couldn't tear his eyes off him. His seal-grey Armani suit rode the sensuous border between a tight and relaxed fit--allowing just enough room for the fabric to move easily and fall right but close enough to highlight his frame by hugging his broad shoulders and clinging ever so slightly to his muscular thighs. Beneath it, Sasha could just imagine the way in which the ivory silk shirt barely grazed his skin.
The light from the moon glinted off the set of keys loosely clasped in his left hand, distracting Sasha for a second. When he looked into the guy's eyes again, a hard knowing look passed between them--a heated, unspoken exchange that said only one thing.
I want to fuck you.
Despite the mounting pressure in his crotch, Sasha couldn't completely ignore his curiosity. He had never experienced such a strong and immediate reaction to a total stranger and a part of him wanted to know why. But right now only one question mattered. "Where's your car?"