Kinky Claus Read online

  Kinky Claus

  By

  Jodi Redford

  “Kinky Claus”

  Copyright 2014 Jodi Redford

  Edited by JL Stalker

  Published by Jodi Redford

  Cover by Kelly Apple

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or

  dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the web-without permission in writing from the author.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Attempting to appear as inconspicuous as possible, Marissa Wagner shrugged out of her snow-dusted winter coat and plopped it on the bench seat before sliding into the booth. Ridiculous as it was, she swore every eye in the coffee shop was zeroed in on her. Stop being a damn ninny. It wasn’t as if a giant marquee was lit over her head heralding the news that she was here for an illicit rendezvous instead of a white chocolate mocha Frappuccino.

  Resisting the overwhelming urge to nibble on her thumb nail, she shot a nervous glance toward the entrance of the shop. The abundance of snow flurries swirling outside the windows jogged her sigh loose. Maybe her mystery man would cancel instead of risk the roads. Just her luck. She’d finally made an executive decision to treat herself to a fake boyfriend for Christmas, and Mother Nature threw a wrench in everything with the worst snowstorm Michigan had seen in the last five years.

  She could almost hear her best friend Jane’s sarcastic assessment of that sad turn of events. It’s what you get for taking so long to lose your chastity granny panties and get your freak on, Miss Goody Two Shoes.

  Thank God she hadn’t peeped a word of this to Jane or Sidney. Although neither of her friends would judge her decision to hire a male escort, there was no way in hell they’d let a day go by without giving her crap for it either. Especially since it was so out of character for her. But that was precisely the reason she’d ultimately clicked on the web link for Hunks for Hire.

  Damn it, she was sick and tired of always being the “buddy” girl. It was an evil label that’d adhered to her like Super Glue starting all the way back in the seventh grade when Tommy Peterson befriended her because he had the hots for her best friend at the time. From that day on, it was always the same story—boy falls for hot cheerleader, convinces Marissa to put in the good word for him, then whamo blamo, the happy couple speeds off into the sunset in his dad’s convertible while Marissa is left choking on the exhaust of broken dreams.

  Pathetic and hokey, but oh-so true.

  Well not anymore. She was reinventing herself. Starting today. No more the buddy girl. No more useless fantasies about the hottie in the office suite across from hers. And she wasn’t just saying that because he’d turned out to be gay. Okay, maybe that’d prompted her decision a teensy bit. The other motivating factor was her upcoming company Christmas party. She was not going one more year with Jane or Sidney as her date. Besides, Sid had a busy social calendar these days now that her bosses, Leo and Devlin, had made her partner in and out of the bedroom. That left Jane—and Jane and company office parties were always iffy depending on how heavily someone spiked the eggnog.

  Nope, hiring an escort was the wise move here. At a minimum it guaranteed her having the most amazing night of her life. Not that she was planning on doing anything crazy, like sleep with her hired hunk. That’d be way beyond her comfort level. And probably technically considered prostitution. Which would likely result in her mom suffering a freakin’ heart attack if Marissa’s mug shot ended up on the eleven o’clock news after she got busted in a covert prostitution sting.

  Queasiness sloshed in her belly. Oh my God, what am I doing? This was insane. Something completely out of her safe little comfort zone. Consorting with male escorts was more of a Jane thing. Marissa was supposed to be the practical, sensible one. The...boring one.

  There, she’d admitted it. For years she’d satisfied her yearning for adventure and excitement by living vicariously through Jane and Sid. Sure, she’d lent a shoulder to cry on more than a time or two when her best friends’ wild shenanigans backfired on them. But at least Sid and Jane could say they’d tried nearly everything under the sun. The craziest thing Marissa ever did was wear a white pant suit two days after Labor Day.

  Well, there was also the whole setting up a date with a male escort too.

  Despite her massive amount of misgivings over her decision, a tiny burst of giddy euphoria welled to life, inching a giggle along in its wake. She rolled her lips together before the laugh could escape. Yes, it was completely irrational to feel the slightest bit of a rush over any of this insanity, but this was the probably the one and only time she’d do something so impetuous and harebrained. Might as well revel in it.

  A draft of cold air curled around her ankles, announcing a newly arrived cafe customer. Or maybe her paid-for dream man. Thrilling expectancy and a hot wash of panic sluicing through her, she peered toward the doorway—and nearly choked on a strangled cough. There was no doubt that the hunk stepping inside the entrance got her engine revving. Unfortunately, it was for all the wrong reasons.

  Aw crap. Her gaze pinned on Trig Campbell’s handsome profile, Marissa hastily scooted toward the far side of the booth and sent up a desperate prayer that he’d place his order and leave without spotting her. The last thing she needed was Jane’s kid brother witnessing her cozying up with her escort. If Trig spilled the beans to his sister, Marissa would inevitably face a hounding worse than the Spanish Inquisition from Jane. Yeah, she could always make up some lame cover story for who the guy was, but Jane was more skilled than a bloodhound when it came to sniffing out BS.

  Damn it, she’d been extra careful to pick a location that was both safe and far enough away from her usual haunts to avoid the chances of running into anyone she knew. Clearly fate had one majorly screwed up sense of humor.

  Trig glanced her way and she scooched lower in her seat. Her boobs hit the edge of the counter and she winced. Sometimes having a big rack really sucked. Blowing out a resigned breath, she dug her elbows into the bench and wiggled back into place. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she risked a peek toward Trig. He was openly staring at her with a strange sort of puzzlement, as if he was equally thrown by her presence in the shop.

  Heh. Maybe he was here for a top secret rendezvous with an escort too. How ironic would that be?

  Before she had a chance to chuckle at that ridiculous musing, Trig took a step in her direction. Resignation settled heavily in her chest. There was always the possibility that his hello would be brief. If luck was on her side, he’d be gone before her date arrived.

  Shoving her hands in her lap so she wouldn’t gnaw on her nails, she watched Trig’s hesitant approach. Her previous joke about him also meeting up with an escort seemed like the biggest absurdity to penetrate her brain as she took in the well-defined muscles that were gloriously accentuated by his snug black Henley. Between his incredible phys
ique and a face that could make sane, sensible women instantly drop their panties, there was no way in hell Trig spent a solitary night alone. Not unless he deliberately chose to.

  He ambled closer, his gaze panning from the top of her head to her face and back again. Recalling the pink tweed cap she’d left on so her date could recognize her from the vague description she’d left with the escort service, she self-consciously plucked the hat off and stuffed it in her lap. She fidgeted with the cap’s bill and silently groaned at her knee-jerk response. It wasn’t as if Trig would know why she had the hat on.

  Without saying a word, he slid in across from her in the booth and swiped his fingers through his short, glossy black hair. She tossed him a tentative smile. So much for that fast hello. “Hey, Trig.”

  He scratched the nape of his neck before leaning forward and resting his elbows on the edge of the tabletop. Making a steeple with his thumbs, he cleared his throat. The odd bemusement she’d noticed earlier still resided in the midnight blue gaze trained on her. “Hey...Marie.”

  It took a moment for his greeting to sink in. Probably because her mind had been spinning in overdrive, trying to summon a polite way to hurry him out of there. But the gears of her brain now ground to a jarring stop.

  He’d called her by her middle name. It also happened to be the same alias she’d given the escort service because she’d been too chicken shit to provide her real name. That meant—

  She gaped at Trig, her head reeling for an entirely new reason. Oh. Shit.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Trig watched the vivid bloom of red sweeping across Marissa’s cheeks, the tiny niggle of uncertainty that she was indeed his new client instantly evaporating. Her reaction to him using that name was all the answer he needed.

  Holy hell. Momentarily at a loss for words, he continued to stare at her while he valiantly attempted to process this crazy turn of events. In the eighteen months he’d been working with the agency they’d never once set him up with someone he knew. Still, he’d been smart enough to realize the risk existed and he’d mentally prepared himself to handle it the best he could, for both his and his date’s sake. But all of that careful preplanning wasn’t doing shit for him now. Because the last person he’d expected to have this conversation with was Marissa.

  Not only was she his sister’s best friend, she was also the woman he’d been carrying a major boner for, well, pretty much since they first met four years ago. In that respect, he should probably kiss the ground for having this mind-blowing opportunity handed to him on a silver platter. But judging from the sheer panic overtaking every centimeter of her face, it was a safe bet she wasn’t viewing the situation in the same favorable light.

  His damage control plan finally kicking into play, he reached across the table for Marissa’s hand. He twined their fingers together and she blinked at him, her deer-trapped-in-headlights expression un-budging. Squeezing her fingers, he offered a reassuring smile. “Breathe.”

  “I—I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. Otherwise I’ll have to jump over there and give you mouth-to-mouth. Not that I’m against that idea.” Neither his quip nor his grin did the trick of cracking through her panic. He pulled her hand closer and clasped it between both of his, effectively compelling her to meet his gaze. There was no denying that she was freaked the fuck out over their situation, and he easily detected the traces of embarrassment brewing in her eyes.

  If not for the table separating them he would have tucked her into his arms and held her until her stress dissipated. Hell, he’d gladly keep her snuggled against him well beyond that if she was game for it, but it was pretty damn clear that he had his work cut out for him getting her to that stage of comforting.

  He gently chaffed her hand between his. “Rissa, it’s okay. This isn’t much different than a blind date. Only we have the benefit of already knowing each other. That’s kind of a good thing, don’t you think?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Why?”

  She gaped at him like he’d suddenly sprouted an extra head. “Because you’re Jane’s brother. And you’re younger than me.” She darted a look toward the nearest table before leaning closer to him and dropping her voice to a whisper. “Also I freakin’ paid for you.”

  All three of her concerns were expected and no simple barricade to bust through. Best to start with the lowest on the calamity scale. “You’re what, five years older than me, tops? Don’t think that even qualifies you as a cougar.”

  She grimaced. “Oh God, you would have to use that word.”

  “I happen to think older women are hella sexy.”

  She offered him a peevish look that was downright adorable. “You just said I’m not that much older than you.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll make an exception for you.”

  That finally earned a ghost of a smile from her. Just as quickly as it appeared, the mesmerizing sight vanished and she frowned, her eyes widening slightly behind her tortoise frame glasses. “You aren’t suggesting we go through with this!”

  “Why not? According to the information I was given, you need a date for your Christmas party, and I’m available. I don’t see any problem with this scenario.”

  She dropped her focus to their linked fingers. Despite her effort to hide her face he still made out the fierce blush creeping across her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “Trig, I—I just don’t think this is going to work out.”

  “If you’re worried what Jane will think, trust me, I have no plan to tell her about any of this.”

  She returned her stare to him. “Does she know what you do for a living?”

  He grunted. “No. That info would go over like a bag of bricks with my sis. She has a hard enough time with my other side job.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Other side job?”

  So apparently Jane hadn’t spilled the beans to any of her friends. Or at least not to Marissa. Not that he was necessarily surprised, given how his sis viewed his decision to put off going back to school to get his MFA. Not much he could do about that until he got a decent chunk taken out of his already sky-high student loan.

  He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. This was another conversation he’d never anticipated occurring. Might as well get it all out in the open though. Shit, if the escort thing hadn’t scared her off by now his other gig likely wouldn’t be the final straw breaking the camel’s back. He hoped. “I dance for an all-male revue.”

  She double blinked. “You’re a stripper?”

  “Not full time, but...yeah.”

  “Huh. No wonder you’re in such amazing shape.” Her scrutiny drifted to his chest before quickly flicking back upward to his chin as if she were deeply mortified at getting caught red-handed checking him out. Considering the amount of women who visually molested him on a daily basis—even with his clothes on—her reaction was adorably goofy.

  He bit back a grin. “I’m glad you noticed.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You can stop pretending that you don’t know your body is the Eighth freakin’ Wonder of the World.”

  He chuckled. “Not that I don’t appreciate the flattery—especially coming from you—but that’s a pretty hefty claim to make without seeing all I have to offer.”

  Her eyes widened again. Oh yeah. She’d definitely picked up on the underlying invitation he’d snuck in there. He deliberately dropped his gaze to her mouth. “If you want a demonstration before actually buying the goods—”

  “Trig.” Her coloring rivaled the hat she’d tucked in her lap.

  His face physically hurt from grinning so hard. “I was only going to suggest that you should come watch me at Sinners Friday night.”

  “Oh.” She shifted restlessly in her seat. “I’m having dinner with my mom that night.”

  It was a good bet that was a lie, judging from the way she stumbled over her words and immediately averted her gaze. “Then I guess you’ll have to take me sight unseen.” He brushed his thumb along the outside of hers. “Unless you’d prefer a
private dance back at your place.”

  She squirmed on the bench again. “Is that something you regularly offer your clients?”

  “No, though sometimes they ask. Most of the women aren’t looking for anything sexual, believe it or not.”

  “H—have you ever slept with any of them?” A rosy flush crawled upward along her neck. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s really none of my business.”

  “No, you deserve to know, and I don’t mind disclosing the information.” He took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Marissa off, but he also believed in being one hundred percent honest when it came to his sexual history. “I’ve never accepted money to have sex with a woman. What they pay me is strictly for what’s on the agreement form. But a couple of times there have been mutual attractions that led to stuff happening after I got off the clock.”

  He continued tracing her finger, following the curve down to the base of her thumb. He’d never found the simple act of holding a woman’s hand to be this intimate and erotic. Then again, he probably wouldn’t have the same response if it wasn’t Marissa. Which just went to show the effect she had on him. How fucking mind blowing would it be having his cock buried deep inside her, feeling her hot and liquid around him while her nails raked his back? He lifted her hand and bit the tip of her finger, scraping it lightly with his teeth.

  Her lips parted on a breathy exhale. The sound wrapped around his cock and squeezed. He released her finger but kept caressing her hand. “Invite me back to your place, Rissa.”

  Yes, he was pushing her. Hard and fast. It might very well backfire on him and she’d run out of the shop in the next two seconds. But he’d never been one to back away from going after what he wanted. And what he wanted was Marissa—naked, gasping, and coming her brains out underneath him. Hopefully within the next thirty minutes, otherwise his balls were in danger of turning permanently blue.