Page 37 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

There’s no space between her knees, but she presses them together anyway—her sex pulsing in memory of the pleasure she was given by the mouth of a stranger. Jessica’s hard nipples tingle, and she tugs her lower lip between her teeth, biting down in remembrance of his beard scraping against her sensitive flesh as he dipped his tongue inside of her.

What’s wrong with me?

A soft moan fills her mouth before she shakes her head, in an attempt to discard the memory. Pressing her forehead to her knees, she feels a knot as it begins to form in her throat. She tries to swallow it as she asks herself,Why do I want more?

Stefano’s spinestraightens when he hears the fast approaching footfalls of a John. He looks up from his task, turning his gaze toward the short staircase, bracing himself. As the gatekeeper, he is certain there are seven men locked behind seven doors with nine women—one of which is his beloved dove. He knows the clock has not yet reached half past ten, and the last John to have arrived did so not twenty minutes before. His awareness of the clientele leads him to believe there should be no footfalls echoing along the corridor for at least another hour. When he sees Khalohn Morgan hit the first stair, Stefano pulls in a deep breath in an attempt to control his rising sense of panic.

“Mr. Morgan, is everything all right?” he asks, careful to keep his tone professional.

Khalohn stops in front of the reception desk and places his skeleton key atop the guest book opened in front of Stefano. He then reaches into his jacket pocket and extracts his wallet as he says, “Friday night. Eleven o’clock. Same woman.”

Stefano loses hold of his professional air as his mouth falls open. He’s stunned into silence at Mr. Morgan’s request for Jessica for a third night. He can’t think about what such a request might mean before the man in front of him pulls a wad of cash from his wallet and places it next to his discarded room key.

“No one else touches her between now and then.”

Stefano doesn’t look down at the tip he’s been given. Neither does he speak a word before Khalohn turns and heads for the exit. It isn’t until he’s almost made it to the door that Stefano’s mind recognizes the full extent of what Mr. Morgan’s request will entail.

A third night.

Rather than his shock that Mr. Morgan would prefer Jessica for yet another night, he realizes the deal he made with Jessica will be broken. For a split second, he feels torn between his roles. He doesn’t know whether to be a best friend or a gatekeeper.

“Wait,” he calls out, hardly remembering Khalohn won’t be able to take his leave until he’s released the latch on the door.

Mr. Morgan says nothing as he stops and glances back over his shoulder. One look into his familiar blue eyes, and Stefano realizes he doesn’t have a choice. He is to be both the gatekeeperanda best friend. Khalohn is not a John who can be denied. He is, by far, among Clandestine’s top VIP members. And yet, he and Jessica made a compromise. Stefano is intuitive enough to surmise, given Mr. Morgan’s reputation, she’s yet to be taken. As much as he would like to leave it at that and refuse another night, he must settle for the next best thing. He doesn’t think about the consequences which might be doled out by Beatrice at his actions. He simply makes up his mind he’ll deal with whatever comes his way as he barters with his best friend’s body.

“She’ll be double your normal fee next time.” Stefano doesn’t deny the price he demands is not so much for the sake of Jessica’s financial benefit but for the small hope Mr. Morgan won’t part with twenty thousand dollars for a single night with a woman he could have had already.

Khalohn doesn’t speak his reply. He jerks his chin in a nod of affirmation and then continues toward the exit. Stefano presses the button that opens the hidden door, and he stares after the man, slightly dumbfounded. At the sound of the clicking latch, signaling he’s now alone, he drops his gaze down at the items Khalohn left in front of him. He picks up the cash first, counting out fifteen hundred dollars.

Ten percent.He counts the bills again to be sure. Mr. Morgan has always been a generous tipper—but he’s never tipped more than five percent, least of all on a fee higher than his usual. Pocketing the cash, Stefano takes up the skeleton key and abandons his station. He doesn’t hear the music playing softly through the halls, or the faint sound of pleasure slipping beneath the doors he passes. All he can think about is the equation in his head he can’t figure out.

He doesn’t think twice before he inserts the key in Mr. Morgan’s door and frees the lock. For the second time in a row, he breaks the gatekeeper code of conduct, which is to allow the women fifteen minutes alone in the room before they are released. He doesn’t care if Jessica isn’t decent. Furthermore, he suspects she must be. Mr. Morgan wasn’t in the room long enough to do a damn thing.

Jessica gasps, her head snapping up from atop her knees upon his entrance. He closes the door behind him, taking her in before he settles his gaze on her brown eyes, obviously glazed over in confusion. He doesn’t know what to say. The longer they stare at one another, the more uncertain her expression becomes.

“Huey,” she starts on a whisper.

Stefano shakes his head, signaling her silence, and takes another step into the room. He wants to ask her what happened; but just as torn as he was with Mr. Morgan, he remains with Jessica. He ignores her use of his nickname, remaining firmly in his skin as Stefano—the gatekeeper.

“He’s requested another night. He never requests a third. Never.”

Jessica’s spine straightens, her eyes growing round with an expression Stefano can no longer interpret. “He hasn’t—”

“You and I made a deal,” he interrupts, not wishing to hear what Mr. Morgan has or hasn’t done in the sum total of thirty minutes he’s spent with her. “But he’s not a client I can refuse.”

“I’ll do it,” she murmurs, her voice so soft he’s only sure of what she’s said by the shape her mouth makes around her words.

He pauses, squinting through the dimly lit room at what might be a kiss of color brightening Jessica’s cheeks. He forces himself to look away from her altogether before he replies, “I didn’t foresee this. I don’t know what you do to him, but he wants you—regardless of the cost.”

As soon as he’s spoken the words, a pang of guilt slices through him. She’s priceless, and he won’t allow himself to forget it—regardless of the circumstances.

Softening, he brings his eyes back to meet hers. “Swear to god, he’s the only one I’ll let touch you, Jess. But the second you want out—”

“I’ll be okay. I promise. He makes me feel…”

Her voice trails off, and he knows he shouldn’t wait for her to finish the sentence, let alone beg her to. Nevertheless, he doesn’t look away from her as he accepts his need to know. He needs to be reminded she won’t break under the weight of her choice—a choicehehas allowed her to make.

“He makes you feel what?” murmurs Stefano.

---