30 Days (Morgan Family Series Book 1) Read online

  A flash of red catches my eye and I see her. She walks out wearing a silky negligee, garters, and heels. Black sheer stockings cover her long legs and my fingers twitch to unhook the garters and peel those stockings down her legs. Men immediately start flocking toward her. I finish my scotch and head her way.

  “I’d like a private dance.”

  Her green eyes meet mine and her lips part in surprise. She licks them and swallows without speaking a word. She walks towards the private rooms and I fall into step behind her.

  We walk past several rooms with closed doors. I know those must be occupied. When we come to an empty room with an open door, she walks inside. The room is dimly lit with a large white leather chair seated in front of a stripper pole. There’s a table off to the side adorned with accessories. Feather boa, leather whip, handcuffs, blindfold. A sign on the wall states the rule that she can touch me, but under no circumstances can I touch her.

  She motions for me to sit in the chair so I do. She steps near the table and takes her heels off. I hear music start to play, but I don’t recognize the song. Doesn’t

  matter because she’s moving now. I rest my arms on the sides of the chair and remind myself not to touch her. Despite how badly I want to.

  She comes to stand between my legs and her fingertips grip the bottom of the negligee. My fingertips grip the leather of the chair as she slowly pulls it up and over her head. She’s encased in black lace again. She rests one leg on my chest and her hand goes to her garter. She pops the stocking free and rolls it over her leg and off her foot. She does the same with the other leg.

  When she straddles my lap, I’m certain she can feel my straining erection. I’m wearing slacks and it’s not easy to conceal it. She doesn’t sit all the way down though. I guess she knows not to do that. She’s close enough though.

  I wonder what she’d think if I took control of this situation and bent her over this chair? I snap myself from that thought when her tits graze over my shirt. Don’t touch her. Her lips are just inches from mine as she moves over me. Don’t touch her. Then she stands up. I want to pull her back down. Don’t touch her.

  She walks over to the table and picks up the handcuffs. When she comes back, she takes my hand and tugs. I stand up, not bothering to try to hide the bulge in my pants. She turns me until my back is against the pole and she cuffs both of my wrists behind me. I tug, but I’m securely fastened to the pole. Fuck me.

  She places her hands on my hips and moves down my body. I’m rock hard by the time she moves back up. She unclasps her bra and slips it off her shoulders. She tosses it onto the chair. She presses her back flush against me and cups her tits in her hands. I look down over her shoulders and I can see her pinching her nipples as she massages herself.

  The lyrics to the song resound in my ears. Space was just a word made up by someone who’s afraid to get too close. We’re definitely close. She’s rubbing her entire body against mine. And I can’t touch her.

  Without warning, she bends over and moves her ass against my cock. She looks back at me and those green eyes bore into me. She rises back up slowly and faces me. She’s close enough that if I were to lean forward, I could kiss her.

  “Come home with me.”

  She ignores me and keeps dancing. Torturing me. When the music stops, she reaches behind me and I hear a click before my wrists are released. She steps away from me and picks up her bra from the chair.

  “The dance is over.” she states. “Put the money in the slot on the door.”

  I clench my jaw, but I’m not ready to give up so easily. “I’ll pay for another dance.” I offer.

  “My shift is over.” She picks up the negligee.

  “Then let me take you home.”

  “I don’t do that.” she informs me. “Try one of the other girls.” She slides the negligee over her head.

  “$150,000.”

  I know that gets her attention because she stops pulling the stocking up her leg. I just blurted a number. I’ve never even considered paying for sex before. Never needed to. I don’t even know where it came from. I had to get her to stop moving.

  Even if it only lasted a few seconds. She pulls the stocking up and starts on the next one.

  “Like I said, I don’t do that.”

  Chapter 3

  Memphis

  It’s been a week since my private dance with Mr. Sexy. I don’t know what else to call him. He’s definitely sexy. Dirty blonde hair. Blue eyes. Big dick. Couldn’t help, but notice. He didn’t exactly try to hide it. I don’t know that he could’ve if he’d tried. Even so, he tried to buy me. $150,000. Probably didn’t even have it. There’s no telling what I would’ve had to do for it either. If he had it.

  When he comes back in, I’m sure Stacy, Leah, or one of the other girls will take care of him. Honestly, with the way he looks, he shouldn’t have to pay for sex anyway. But I’ve learned that a lot of good-looking men pay for sex. They like the no-strings attached part and they like being able to do whatever they like with a woman. When you pay for it, you don’t have to feel regret about not calling. You also don’t get questioned about your strange sexual preferences. Maybe he has some really strange sexual preferences.

  “There’s someone asking for you.” Stacy says. “He’s fucking hot.”

  I frown at her words, but follow her out. My shift is almost over. She points across the room and my stomach does a flip-flop. It’s him.

  “You’re not done for fifteen minutes. Go get paid!” she encourages.

  I try to muster up some confidence as I saunter over to him. When his blue eyes meet me, he almost looks amused. His mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile. Part of me wants to see him smile. It would probably be earth shattering.

  “I’d like a private dance.”

  I debate on telling him I’m off work and letting someone else take him back.

  But he asked for me. I lead him to the private rooms. I give him another private dance that his him rock hard and white-knuckling the chair. For some reason, it makes me feel good to know that I have that effect on him.

  I keep my back to him while I work on clasping my bra. I’m struggling with it when I feel his fingers brush across my back and clasp it for me. This makes me tense and step away from him. He’s not supposed to touch me. I’m damn sure not supposed to like it so much.

  “Come home with me.” he pleads. “My offer still stands.”

  “You should try one of the other girls. Maybe they’ll take you up on your ridiculous offer.”

  “I don’t want them. I want you.” I laugh at his confession, shaking my head. “Do that again.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “Smile. Laugh.” he answers. “Come home with me.” “I can’t.”

  “I can’t keep coming back here. I don’t handle rejection well.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. I expect him to say more, but he doesn’t. He pauses at the door to pay and then walks out.

  Two weeks pass and I don’t see him again. I accept that he isn’t coming back.

  Probably for the best anyway. He pays too well and I can’t get used to that. It’s nice,

  but I don’t want to get used to money that won’t always be there. I decide I can just fantasize about him and move on.

  Now that it’s my day off, I make my deposit at the bank and then walk down the street to find somewhere to get lunch. I order a hot dog from a vendor and start eating it as I walk back to my apartment. I’m only halfway finished when my phone rings. I fish it out of my purse and see that it’s Anniston.

  “Why aren’t you in class?” I answer.

  “I’m in between classes.” she replies. “I have something to tell you and please don’t be mad.”

  “I don’t like the way this conversation is starting.” I toss the other half of my hot dog into a garbage can so I can focus on whatever bad news she’s about to tell me.

  “My scholarship has been revoked.”

  I stop walking. �
��Already? How did this happen?”

  “The dean called me into his office today and told me. I’m good for half of this semester, but the other half is not paid for.”

  “I thought they just put you on probation. How can they revoke your scholarship already?”

  “I don’t know! They did though. What are we gonna do?” she cries. “My grades are getting better, Memphis. I swear!”

  “Are you sure you’re telling me everything?” I ask. “When did the probation

  start?”

  I hear silence on the other line and I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. I

  knew she had to be keeping something from me.

  “The end of last semester.” she answers, truthfully. “But my grades are improving!”

  “I can’t afford to pay for your dorm and your tuition, Anniston!” “I’ll get a job or I’ll take a semester off.” she offers.

  “No! I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry.”

  I hang up and head home. I pick up a newspaper on the way. Maybe I can get a second job. If not, I’ll have try and get a loan. Something.

  Cameron

  Two weeks. Over two weeks and she’s still on my mind. It was fucking ridiculous. She’s just a damn stripper. No one really. Yet, I wanted to go back. She’d turned me down twice. I refuse to make a fool out of myself again. There’s plenty of other women out there. Yet, I keep thinking about her.

  “Mr. Morgan, is that date good for you?”

  I stare at my colleague and realize I don’t even know what date he asked for.

  Our client shifts in his seat. I open the calendar on my laptop and ask for the date again.

  “Yes.” I answer. I ignore Jim’s glare. I stand and shake hands with Mr. Beasley and watch as he exits the conference room.

  “You spaced out, Cameron. What the hell?” Jim lays into me.

  “I was thinking about another case.” I lie.

  “Right now, this case needs to be priority. At least Tanner Beasley needs to think so.” he scolds.

  I follow him out of the conference room and down the hall towards the elevators. We’d already agreed to have lunch together to discuss the other cases we were working on. We step into the elevator and he presses the button for the first floor.

  The offices for Morgan, Quinley, & Sloan are on the top three floors of the building. The building also houses a large bank, a real estate company, and an ad agency.

  “We need to interview the neighbors. See if they heard anything. Make sure their stories check out with what they reported to the police.” Jim says. “We also need to get him to tell us where he was. Make sure he has an ironclad alibi.”

  The doors open on the third floor and a brunette walks in. Her head is down as she fumbles in her purse.

  “I know, Jim. It’s not my first case.” I mumble.

  “Start interviewing the character witnesses too. The males. I’ll handle the females. They always get flustered around you.”

  “They don’t. You just think they do.” “They do.” he smarts.

  I cross my arms, but don’t comment back. I don’t feel like arguing with him.

  I’ve been working for my father’s firm for four years and his partners still don’t trust me.

  “Excuse me. Do either of you have the time? My phone died.”

  I look to the woman beside me and the piercing green eyes staring back at me grow wide with recognition. Her hair isn’t red, but brown and shoulder length. Even still, I know those eyes.

  “It’s one o’clock.” Jim informs her.

  She gives him a mumbled thanks and tears her eyes away from mine. She stares at the elevator doors as if willing them to open. Her arms cross over her chest and she taps her fingertips on them.

  I hear the ping as the doors open and Jim walks out. She takes a step forward, but I step in front of her, keeping her from exiting the elevator.

  “I’ll meet you in a few minutes, Jim.” I say, pressing the “close” button. I hear him protesting as the doors shut. I turn to her and the look on her face is that of prey being caught by a predator. That’s exactly what she is.

  “Do I know you?” she asks, pretending that she doesn’t recognize me. It’s

  cute.

  “Don’t be coy.” I tell her, backing her into the corner of the elevator.

  “You haven’t been back.”

  “I told you I couldn’t keep coming there. Have you missed me?”

  She snorts at this. “I have somewhere to be.”

  “So do I.”

  I close the gap between us and brush my lips over hers. I move to deepen the

  kiss, but the elevator doors open again. “Do you work tonight?” Her answer is a breathy “no.”

  “Be here at eight o’clock.” I back away from her. “Please.”

  Chapter 4

  Memphis

  I’m dressed and ready, pacing my apartment at 7:15. He didn’t bring up money again, but I’m sure his offer is still on the table. I overheard his conversation in the elevator and I know he’s a lawyer. At one of the biggest firms in the city. He doesn’t want to date a stripper. That’s for sure.

  Since Anniston’s call, I’ve applied for every decent paying job that’s available. I’ve also been turned down by every decent paying job that’s available. The only real job experience I have is Waffle House and Piggly Wiggly. I don’t really want to put my experience as a stripper down. I also don’t want to apply at places like Waffle House and Piggly Wiggly. Besides, I checked and they’re not hiring.

  I also applied for a loan and since I don’t have any credit or a credit history, I was denied. It doesn’t matter that I have a steady income. I asked how do I get a credit history if no one will give me a loan and was basically told to apply for a credit card. A credit card won’t help me now. I could never get one with that high of a credit line.

  I called and told Anniston to beg for her scholarship back, but I know there’s no chance of that happening. She said her grades are getting better and I have to trust that. Now I just have to figure out a way to keep her in school.

  I look at the clock and see it’s 7:30. Now or never. I grab my purse and walk downstairs. The cab ride doesn’t take that long and I get to the building a few minutes early. I’m nervous as I walk inside. I feel like I’m making a deal with the devil. Even if he is sexy as hell.

  The building is empty. I feel a stab of disappointment. He played me. Figures. I was stupid for even considering his offer anyway. I turn back towards the door.

  “You came.”

  I hear his shoes padding across the carpet as he comes towards me. I turn around to face him. His jacket is folded over his arm. His tie is loosened around his neck.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks.

  I don’t know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t expecting him to ask if I was hungry. I guess I thought he’d get straight to the point of asking for what he wanted from me.

  “Sure.”

  He pushes the door open and I fall into step beside him. We walk in silence to the parking garage. He opens the door to his Mercedes for me and I slip into the seat. I keep my hands in my lap, afraid to touch anything.

  “So what’s your name?” he asks as he pulls into traffic.

  “Memphis.”

  “I don’t want your stage name. I want your real name.” he says, sternly.

  “That is my real name. My stage name is Amber.” I reply. “My mom had a

  thing about naming her children after the cities they were conceived in.”

  “Oh.” A smirk plays at his lips.

  “I’m Cameron.”

  “It’s not a weird name.”

  “I don’t guess so.”

  I don’t know what to say to him after that. I feel out of place and out of my league. I’m starting to regret meeting him. What was I thinking? I can’t do this.

  “We’re here.” he says, pulling into a parking lot for a large apartment building.

  “This
isn’t a restaurant.” “No. I live here.”

  Shit. I open my door and exit the car. I should’ve known this was how it would be. I should just let him pay me, screw him, and leave. At least I’ll have the money and Anniston can stay in school. I’ll never have to do it again. One night.

  I follow him into his apartment and try not to stare too wide-eyed at how luxurious it is. It’s probably five times the size of my apartment. He has an electric fireplace in the living room, big screen television, leather furniture, and spacious kitchen. I can see on his balcony there’s a large hot tub. I’m sure the other rooms are just as nice.

  “Do you like tacos?” he asks and this catches me off guard. He’s standing in his kitchen taking out the ingredients to make tacos. He’s taken off his tie and rolled his sleeves up. I like seeing this domestic side of him. Makes him appear normal.

  “That’s fine. Can I help?” I offer.

  He hands me a tomato, cutting board, and a knife. Twenty minutes later, we’re eating chicken tacos and drinking beer at his breakfast bar.

  “What were you doing today?” he asks.

  “I was there for some personal stuff.” “Hmm.”

  I watch him across the counter and I can tell when his mood shifts. He finishes his taco and takes a long sip of his beer.

  “Speaking of person stuff, why don’t get straight to it?”

  Cameron

  She shrugs and I know she’s been waiting on me to bring it up all night. I’ve been beating around the bush. It’s not my style. There’s no point to it.

  “What is it that you want?” she asks.

  “I’m pretty sure you know the answer to that. I made you an offer and you declined it twice.”

  “Well, I’m here now.”

  “Good. $150,000.” I say. “For one month.”