Page 84 of Sinful Escape

He was covered in tattoos except for his hands and face. But these were not two-bit tattoos applied with reckless abandon. These were exquisite and intentional. Designed and planned by an artist whose work could grace the walls of any gallery.

The man in the three-piece suit had completely transformed into something out of this world.

Holy hotness on a stick.

I must’ve looked like a dumbstruck fool. It took all my might to clear my throat and shut my gaping mouth. His jaw was set, and the weird look on his face had me wondering if I’d done something wrong.

All of sudden, I felt very awkward. “So, ummm . . .”

“Would you like me to call you a taxi?”

Taxi?

Oh, Lord. He wanted me to leave.

A dagger of humiliation drove into my heart.

The game was over. He’d scored. He’d gotten what he wanted.

It was time for his plaything to vacate his penthouse.

I cleared my throat. “No, thank you.” A blaze of heat raced up my neck as I headed for my handbag that I couldn’t recall placing on the table.

His silence was as loud as a scream as I opened his door and strode from his suite.

My heart stammered as I jabbed the elevator call button over and over, praying that he didn’t step into the hallway.

I waited out the silence, fighting the wave of nausea rolling through me.

I’d just been used.

The doors opened, and when I stepped in, the wetness between my legs was disgusting. Prodding the button for the ground floor, the doors finally closed. I stared at my reflection. My hair was a little messed up but other than that, I looked exactly as I had on the way up.

But I wasn’t. I’d just had sex with a complete stranger in his penthouse suite.

I’d also just been discarded like a used condom.

A sob caught in my throat.

I was just like my mother.

Chapter Eighteen

I walked to the hostel with the crisp night air prickling my skin. The wetness between my legs added to my already rotten feelings. Am I a slut? By some miracle, I made it to my room without bursting into a blubbering mess. In the bathroom, I stared at my reflection, and a different woman looked back at me. It wasn’t just my appearance that had changed.

It was all of me. My morals. My soul.

My eyes were red, burgeoning with tears. Unable to hold them back a moment more, I flicked them away as I unraveled my hair from the complex braid.

Scrubbing off my immaculate makeup, the angel and devil in my brain belted out a furious debate.

What were you thinking, going to his room?

Nothing bad happened.

He was a complete stranger.

Yes, but it wasn’t like he was a nameless loser you picked up at a crappy bar.

---