Page 1 of Yours to Conquer

CHAPTER ONE

I’ve been selling my time for years now. Rates start at one hundred dollars an hour, with a three-hour minimum. I’m not selling my body; at least not in the way most people think. If I were selling sex, I would charge a hell of a lot more. You don’t get acquainted with my girlie parts for money. I will gift you with my body if I think you’re worthy, but never as a client.

I didn’t grow up thinking,I’ll be an escort—it just happened. One day while I was at Java Joes, a nice-looking businessman asked me if I’d be willing to accompany him to his Christmas party. He was kind, and I had no plans. I told him to take a seat, and we would talk over the details. What he wanted was a pretty young girl to rub in the face of his ex-wife. She married his co-worker, who was also attending the party. We brokered a deal right then. He’d buy me a pretty cocktail dress, and I’d hang on his every word for the evening. There would be no sex; it was strictly a business arrangement. That’s how this escort thing got started. We attended a Christmas party and made quite a splash. I became a regular on Dillon’s arm for months. He never expected anything from me except my company. He helped me come up with my original business modeland introduced me to most of my clientele. He spread the word, and before I knew it, I had a group of regulars who kept me busy nearly every night of the week.

I learned a lot from the experience. One of the most profound lessons was that most men are decent. I also learned the majority of them are not looking for happily ever after. The men I meet don’t have time to build relationships. They’re more interested in conquering the world than winning a woman’s fickle heart. They buy what they want, and they’re not cheap when it comes to quality.I’mquality.

There’s a market for girls like me. Attractive and intelligent women who will dress up, look pretty, and smile. I work out, eat right, and take care of myself. I can hold a conversation with just about anyone. I stay on top of current affairs and research my clients and their businesses.

Most of my time is spent bridging gaps for people. I’m a social ambassador, if you will. I make people feel at ease in awkward situations. It’s pretty boring, but every once in a while you meet someone special.

Four months ago, I met Anthony, and he changed my life.

Even in his sleep,he keeps me close. He hangs his arm across my body and pulls me tightly against him. With my head against his chest, I listen to the beat of his heart and the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing. I inhale the scent of him and realize I’m happy to stay like this all day.

Lying here, I reflect on our first date. It seems like a lifetime ago, but it’s been just a few months. He took me to his restaurant, where he wined and dined me as if I were royalty. He picked out a special menu and fed me himself. I remember licking butter sauce from his fingers. Every bite was a sensual experience. He teased meall night, making sexual innuendos about everything. He drove me crazy as I watched his tongue slide in and out of his mouth. I nearly came undone when he informed me he had an oral fixation and he planned on tasting every inch of my body. There was so much electricity in the air, we could have powered the city. I knew immediately I wouldn’t be sleeping alone that night.

We spent our first night at his Malibu home. Perched above the ocean, his house sat like a sentinel, guarding his private little beach. It was like a fairy tale, and he was my Prince Charming, my knight in shining armor, and the house was his castle.

I felt like the only girl in the world until I opened his bathroom drawer and found dozens of toothbrushes for his “guests.” I teased him about having so many, but he didn’t blink an eye. One thing about Anthony, is that he makes no excuses for himself. In that way, we are very much alike.

I feel him stretch, his hands reaching far above his head. His chest puffs out as he takes a big cleansing breath and exhales with a groan. “Morning, Red. How did you sleep, baby?” He pulls me on top of his chest and holds me tightly. The coarse hairs tickle my cheek. “That was a fabulous party last night. It’s so good to see Damon get his shit straight,” he says. A final groan escapes as his stretch ends.

Kat and Damon are our friends. I introduced them on the same day I met Anthony. They hit it off, but for whatever reason, Damon’s demons nearly got the best of them. Last night’s party was Damon’s way of letting Kat know she’s the only one for him. He carried her out of the party, and I imagine we won’t hear from them for a while.

“I’m glad those two figured it out. It was so hard to watch them self-destruct when we both knew they needed each other so badly. I thought the way he gave her a letter from his dentist was adorable.” Kat had indicated to Damon that she had two prerequisites for dating. One was that he had to have nice teeth, and the second was that he couldn’t be a serial killer.

“I remember a girl who required a note from my doctor saying I was disease-free before she’d have sex without a condom. The irony is that she was an escort, and I was merely a chef. You would’ve thought it should be the other way around.”

I laugh. “I remember a man who raced to the doctor when he knew he would get a blow job if he could produce a clean bill of health. The girl in question was an escort, not a hooker, and she gave up her job when she started hanging out with the chef.”

“The chef didn’t ask her to give up her job, but it relieved him when she did. He was concerned he would have to use his knife skills on something other than vegetables. He would’ve killed anyone who touched her.”

“I love my chef, his knife skills, and his other skills,” I tease as I place a kiss on his chest.

“Oh, you like my skills, huh? Let me show you some skills, babe,” he growls as he rolls on top of me, pressing me into the mattress. I love the feel of his body on me, the weight of him as he pins me down. I never tire of what we do for each other. I inhale sharply as he slides inside of me. His body fills mine completely, and my heart skips a beat every time we make love. I wonder if that feeling will ever go away. I guess if it does, then it’s time to move on.

Anthony takes me slowly. He has never been one to rush; it’s all about the details to him. Once his creative juices get flowing, he ignites me. His slow pace always gives me time to build up to the most glorious release. I love mornings like this—mornings where we have nowhere to be and nothing to do. This is what life is all about—connection.

I curl into his body and listen to his breath even out. My hand trails up the hairline to his belly button. The rumble of his stomach makes me giggle. Now that he’s fed his first hunger, he needs to address his appetite for food.

“What do you want for breakfast, babe? I can make your favoritepancakes, or I can make you a bacon and veggie omelet. What will it be?”

“You know you’ll get brownie points for either, so you decide.” It’s sweet that he gives me a choice. In the end, he’ll make what he wants, anyway.

“I’m counting on the brownie points; I’ve been collecting them for months. I figure someday I’m going to screw something up, and I’ll need to cash in.” He rolls out of bed, throws on his shorts, and runs upstairs to start breakfast.

I slowly get up and make my way to the bathroom. The girl in the mirror looks happy. I tell her that she’s the luckiest woman in the world. So much about that statement rings true, and yet so much of it’s a lie. Pulling myself together, I throw on my robe and head upstairs.

As I near the top step, I inhale the unmistakable scent of bacon. Who doesn’t love bacon? I think it should be in its own food group, right at the top of the food pyramid. I follow the aroma to the kitchen where a shirtless Anthony cracks eggs with one hand and whisks them with the other. I slide onto the center stool at the island and watch him create the perfect omelet with ease. He moves around the kitchen effortlessly. He’s definitely in his element. Watching him is like watching a conductor lead the orchestra. He has the art of cooking finely tuned and perfectly harmonized. Pouring freshly brewed coffee into two mugs, he places a steaming hot cup in front of me.

“Do you ever tire of cooking?” I ask as I take a sip. He makes the best coffee, even better than what Kat brought me from Java Joes when she used to work there.

“I love cooking for you, Em. I don’t get to be in the kitchen in my own restaurants very much anymore. I made you a bacon and garden veggie omelet. Enjoy.” He places two plates on the breakfast bar and comes around to sit beside me. “I love the look on your facewhen you taste something that you like. Your eyes roll back into your head, and it’s erotic to watch.”

I take my first bite, savor the taste, then exhale. “I love that you cook for me. You know I love food. In fact, I love most foods, except for lima beans, lentils, and brussels sprouts. You’ll never elicit that response from those foods.” The thought of lima beans makes me scrunch up my nose in distaste.

“I don’t like lima beans either, so you’ll never find them on my menu. They’re too chalky tasting for me. Lentils, if cooked properly, can be quite nice. Brussels sprouts, on the other hand, are fabulous. You don’t like them because no one has made them like I do. Someday I’ll make you brussels sprouts, and your body will shudder with delight.”

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