Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | Secrets and Lies (Forbidden Fantasies #43) |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | S.E. Law |
| Language: | English |
| Book Information: | |
He’s got secrets that only I can uncover. Lindy: I know I’m a little bit of a wh*re. Okay, not a little bit. A lot. After all, I moonlight as a hostess at the elite Club Z. It’s a place where billionaires pay for pleasure, and sassy, nubile women deliver. But one day, a gorgeous man walks in and my knees go weak as my temperature skyrockets. Dark? Demanding? Dangerous? Check check check. I’m so f*cked … and it feels so good. Julian: I’ve got a secret. I can only get it going when I’m paying for it. Yes, and that means women of the night have a special place in my life. So nothing can go wrong when I meet the sweet, nubile Lindy, right? After all, the little blonde is in my favorite line of work, and I’m willing to make it worth her while via her pocketbook. But what happens when Lindy gets pregnant … and suddenly, we become a family? Julian’s not a man to walk away from a good time, but Lindy brings out emotions that drive him wild. Join us in this filthy tale where the curvy girl uncovers a dark secret about the man she adores while simultaneously enjoying the dirty debauchery of Club Z. This book is a follow-up to Show Me How, but all of my books are standalones and do not need to be read in order. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always a HEA for my readers. | |
| Books in Series: | Forbidden Fantasies Series by S.E. Law |
| Books by Author: | S.E. Law |
1
Lindy
* * *
My outfit for tonight is laid out on the bed in front of me. It consists of a sexy black cocktail dress, under which I’m going to wear a lacy strapless bra as well as a g-string that’s little more than a piece of floss. Thigh-high sheer stockings complete the look, and they’ll be paired with four-inch stilettos that thrust my big bust out while keeping my hips tucked and low.
But I’m not getting ready for a night out on the town, nor am I meeting a special someone. Instead, this is my work attire, at least for the job that actually pays my bills. By day, I’m a barista at a coffee shop in the city called Sixth Street Espresso, but if I relied on my tips from pouring joe, I’d be living in a box on the street. Instead, I rely on my second job to meet expenses, and it’s the one that really brings in the moolah. I’m a hostess at Club Z, an exclusive club in New York City that caters to rich, powerful, and very alpha men.
Clay and Casper Richmond, the owners of the place, opened Club Z a couple years ago as a place for wealthy businessmen to mingle with sexy women. They figured that guys with cash to spare need a place to relax, and flashy, Vegas-style strip clubs aren’t going to cut it. So instead, the Richmonds set up Club Z, and it’s fantastic. Handsome men fork over an exorbitant sum to enjoy themselves with discretion and comfort in the company of pretty young hostesses who flirt and giggle.
And yes, sex happens. It’s not required, nor does anyone expect it of the women who work for Club Z. But the clients are gorgeous and generous, and to be frank, engaging with the men physically is one of my favorite parts of the job. I’m shameless, I know, but I love what I do and I’m not embarrassed to admit it.
While fingering the sleek velvet material of my dress, my body tingles at the thought of whom I might meet tonight. Will it be an Arab prince in New York to live it up beyond what his home country will allow? Or maybe a banker billionaire with a perfectly-cut suit and charming smile. Whomever it is, the men are generally to die for. More importantly, they’re exactly my type and a tingle of anticipation runs down my spine, making me moisten internally.
But it’s time to get going. I slip into the strapless bra and panties, and then shimmy into the velvet cocktail dress. Perfect. Turning in the mirror, I adjust my breasts a bit before pulling up the skirt to make sure the small black g-string sits perfectly between my cheeks. Then, I give a little wiggle, making my bottom bounce. Oh yeah, this is hot. The guys are going to eat it up.
Plus, no one would expect sweet, innocent Lindy Renfrew to be moonlighting as a hostess at a secret sex club. After all, I don’t exactly advertise the fact because even if I’m not ashamed, there are still a lot of judgmental people in the world and there’s no reason to throw my business out there just for the hell of it. Besides, the exclusivity and secrecy of Club Z are what makes it special. If I go around blabbing that I work at a secret sex club, it would utterly defeat the purpose of the group, not to mention getting me fired in a heartbeat.
Besides, I found out about Club Z through sheer luck. My older cousin, Hadley, came to visit about a year ago, and she was bedecked in all sorts of luxury items. I stared at her fur vest, as well as the cute fur-lined boots she had on, not to mention the expensive Chanel bag hanging off her arm.
“Hads, where’d you get this stuff?” I asked, my eyes wide. “I mean, don’t you work at that juice bar? The one that mixes avocado in with everything?”
Hadley laughed and tossed her blonde curls back.
“Yeah, I’m still there but I got another job too,” she winked.
“What is it?”
My cousin merely tittered.
“Don’t tell anyone because my mom with kill me, okay?”
I was sworn to secrecy and then the truth came out: Hadley was working at Club Z, and by the end of the visit, she’d hooked me up with an interview.
Since then, it’s been wonderful. I still work at Sixth Street Espresso, but my shifts are getting fewer and farther between. One, because I’m tired from entertaining men all night so the morning shifts are brutal, and two, because my small salary at Sixth Street just doesn’t compare to the tips I get at Club Z. One is literally a thousand times more than the other, and I want to optimize my time and energy. To be honest, the only reason I’m still at Sixth Street is for the cover. When someone asks me what I do for a living, I can say that I work at a coffee shop without scaring their pants off.