My jaw drops so far I know I look utterly ridiculous. Blinking at him in astonishment, I take an involuntary step away.

“What do you say, Trista? Can I inch my fingers into your pussy for a little feel?”

Every cell in my body screams out, “Yes!”

Well, every cell except the ones in my brain who know this would be a very stupid mistake to make. I shake my head, taking a breath in to answer with what I’m proud to note is a firm and steady voice. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I think I’ll pass on your little bet.”

Jerico doesn’t say anything at first. He just continues to peer at me intently, perhaps wondering if I’ll repeal that lie I just told. When I don’t, he gives a shrug of his shoulders and says, “If you change your mind, all you have to do is ask.”

“I won’t change my mind,” I say firmly.

Jerico gives a taunting nod and by the curl of his lips, I can tell he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. And to make matters worse, he offhandedly remarks, “If you do change your mind, I might be interested in working out something with you to lessen the amount of days you have to work at The Wicked Horse.”

My eyebrows shoot straight into my hairline. “Are you saying if I have sex with you, I won’t have to work here for another twenty-seven days and you’ll still give me the money?”

Jerico gives me a wicked grin. “I don’t know… are you interested in something like that if I am indeed offering?”

My eyes narrow at him. I know it’s stupid to be offended seeing as how I am working in a sex club and I’ve been turned on ever since I watched Jerico get his dick sucked, but I snap at him, “I’m not a whore.”

I didn’t think this would strike a chord with Jerico, so I’m surprised when his head actually jerks back. “That’s not what I was thinking.”

I can’t hide the sarcasm in my voice. “Well, when you give a woman money for sex, it makes her a whore.”

Jerico gives me an apologetic smile and an acknowledging nod of his head. “My apologies, Trista. Let’s forget what I just said.”

“Gladly,” I say, still pissed off even though he’s apologized. If I had to guess why I’m having this weird reaction, it’s because part of me feels let down that I won’t be having sex with Jerico Jameson.

Oh my God… I’m going crazy I think, and by the look on his face, he knows I’m struggling with this.

Jerico smiles at me and then bends his head so his mouth is within a hair’s breadth of mine. I think he’s going to kiss me but instead he just murmurs, “Putting money and our deal aside, if you ever want me to scratch that itch of yours, all you have to do is ask, Trista. I’ll give it to you.”

I actually go dizzy and my head spins from his words. He is basically offering to pleasure me if I ask, and only in consideration of my need and not our deal. I don’t even know what to make of it but before I can even think about a coherent response, Jerico turns on his heel and walks out of the room.



For three nights, I’ve watched her.

By any definition, I’d totally be considered a stalker.

But from the comfort of my office, I can pull up the security feeds on my monitor and take note of the subtle changes in Trista as she works the condiment tray. Truth be told, I don’t need her working that job and have a much greater need for her to go back to cleaning, but fuck if she doesn’t look a hell of a lot sexier in a thong than a turtleneck and pants.

Part of my training in the military was gathering intelligence, so I can pick up on the slightest of details that could tell me a very important story, and there were a lot of changes I noticed over the last three days with Trista as she settled into her job routine.

The most important and pleasing thing was that Trista’s stopped hiding her sexual curiosity. When she first started working here, she looked around a room in a vague way, not taking in too many details. I think she was afraid to watch.

Afraid of what it would do to her body.

But that has definitely changed.

Now, Trista watches what the patrons are doing. Sometimes, she stares for long moments and much to my delight, the kinkier the acts, the longer she stares. My trained eyes take in her chest rising and falling to keep up with what I’m sure was a racing pulse. She’d adjust the straps covering her breasts in a very minute way either because the pressure on her nipples was too much, or because she wanted to create some friction.

Tags: Sawyer Bennett The Wicked Horse Vegas Billionaire Romance