How Much For The Whole Night? Read online

  HOW MUCH FOR THE WHOLE NIGHT?

  A short story from RJ Scott

  Copyright © 2012 RJ Scott

  First eBook publication: December 2012

  Cover design by RJ Scott

  ISBN 978-1-78564-091-9

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer-to-peer program, for free or for a fee. Such action is illegal and in violation of Copyright Law.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  All trademarks are the property of their respective owners.

  CONTENTS

  Josh

  Ethan

  JOSH

  God. I want.

  The twenty that was pushed into the tall guy's tight shirt was the single thing that sealed the deal for Josh.

  Now. I want him now.

  Meetings with his divorce lawyer had taken him away from the suburbs of Charleston into the city itself—away from his soon-to-be ex-wife, and the only good thing to come out of their marriage; their son. Pushed into a marriage by well-meaning parents he had tried to be a father in a battleground of recrimination and war—tried so damn hard to be a good straight husband.

  It may have been the alcohol, or the high of knowing tomorrow he’d be closer to full custody but tonight, worse the wear for the beers he had downed in quick succession on an empty stomach, meant that for once, he wanted to be himself. So he stood here, in a gay bar on what the cab driver said was the wrong side of town. The bar had shadowed corners and the smell of sex in the air – he watched.

  He watched the man at the bar; saw him insolently leaning back, veiled eyes scanning the heaving late night crowd. The man stood in sinfully tight leather pants and a T-shirt that rode up every time he moved, revealing a tantalizing inch of beautiful, golden-toned skin. He didn't talk to anyone, just inclined his head when people approached him. Josh imagined the whispers of money in exchange for sin that poured from people's lips, but the hooker was shaking his head each time. His hair was short and tousled in a just out of bed look, and as he lifted a foot to rest on the bar wall behind him, he ran a hand through it, pulling it off his forehead and letting it fall back in the same artful disarray. His eyes were smoky and dark, lined with black, the harsh lights of the dance floor casting shadows over high cheekbones, and he was obviously here for trade with the way people were approaching him.

  Beautiful.

  The hooker teased them. Leaned in close to them, offering them views of what they couldn't have. A short man in an ill-fitting suit approached, dollars held in a sweaty hand. He pushed the notes into the top of the hustler’s too tight T-shirt, his body language needy.

  Pathetic to see such desperation.

  Sex-on-legs reached long fingers into his top and spoke briefly to the shorter man, who stiffened and backed away, shaking his head and grabbing back the money he had offered.

  What the fuck? Is no one good enough for him? Is no one offering him enough money?

  Something primal had driven Josh from his blank--walled hotel room, some itch inside him that 24-hour porn did nothing to scratch. He wanted...jeez…he didn't know what he wanted…just wanted something…more. Another man holding him down. Skin stretched over hard muscles.

  That man.

  Seeing this God, this sin, jutting his hip into the room, pants leaving nothing to the imagination, left Josh harder than he remembered ever feeling. Lust and need were building inside his body, suppressed emotions knifing him in his heart. If he was going to do it, if he was going to give in to the lust, it needed to be now, and it needed to be with him, the personification of everything Josh wanted, everything Josh needed.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another man make a move, but this time, some inexplicable force drove Josh Anderson, Accountant extraordinaire, to stand and walk from the shadows.

  My time. My turn.

  He moved carefully, bottle in one hand, knowing he had about $600 on him and hoped desperately it was enough to give his chance credibility. He slid onto the stool next to the guy and leaned subtly into him, causing the oh so fucking beautiful hooker to look left, lower lip caught between his teeth, eyes narrowed.

  "How much?" Josh said softly, inclining his head, his eyes hungrily marking every inch of six foot plus of seduction, finally resting back on the kohl-lined hazel eyes, his own pupils widening in at the heat and smoke he saw there.

  "You've been watching me," the man answered, just as soft, turning to lean against the bar. His arm brushed Josh's, and a frisson of heat sparked at the casual promise in the touch.

  "Me and everyone else," Josh pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "How much," he repeated, "...for the whole night?"

  "You couldn't afford me," the guy answered, looking Josh up and down and smirking.

  "Try me." Josh put on his most confident voice.

  Please try me.

  "I'd want at least two," he said, brooking no discussion, lifting a beer to his lips, running his tongue over those same gorgeous lips to catch stray drops of the cold drink. Josh watched in fascination at the swallow, the hands, and the bottle, his dick threatening to break through his jeans.

  "I don't have two thousand on me," Josh admitted. The set of his shoulders was slightly lower, an edge of disappointment in his voice, can I hide it, get to the cash machine, $2,000, can I get it passed her?

  The hustler leaned into him, his warm breath on Josh's face as he spoke, beer and whiskey, a scent of cologne, the tang of sweat from his sheened skin, the sum of it all so intoxicating.

  "You have very pretty eyes," he finally said, a thoughtful look quickly passing over his face.

  Josh blinked, he had pretty eyes? Jeez, had this guy looked in a mirror recently?

  "Josh." He suddenly blurted the name out, instantly blushing and squirming on the stool, waiting for some comment, some come back. What the fuck do I need to know your name for, you waste of space, useless, fucking useless. But nothing.

  "What do you want, Josh?" he said. The words were so low that Josh had to lean into him. The guy's body radiated heat.

  What do I want?

  My lips on yours.

  Your hand wrapped around me, at this bar, in front of everyone. Now.

  "Want?" Josh asked bemused; he wanted S.E.X. Surely he was being obvious about this? He had never done it before, but surely... surely the professional knew?

  "Who do you want me to be for you?"

  "For me?" Josh thought about what he was being asked. He wanted to get off; he wanted to get off a lot. He wanted to lose himself with this heavenly body, and for just one night he wanted everything to feel real.

  "Who do you want me to be?" The hooker continued with this strange line of questioning his voice so freaking sexy. "Dom? Sub? Lover? Whore?" Jeez, this guy was insistent, his lips mere inches from Josh's.

  "I need... to..." Jeez, shit, what answer was he looking for?

  "See if you are gay? Cheat on the wife? Scratch the itch? Whatever. Look me in the eyes..." he paused as Josh did just that. "Who do you want me to be for you?" he repeated, no hesitation in his voice. Josh frowned, he just wanted the guy to fuck him, have him hold him down and help him lose six years of tension that had built inside him.

  "I just want you to fuck me," Josh said truthfully, pulling back slightly, feeling inside that somehow he had blown this. Was this guy a hooker that topped? Did hookers
even top? Josh just knew somehow that he hadn't answered correctly when a thoughtful expression crossed the other man's face.

  The hooker waited, watched, and then he stood, uncurling his frame from the bar and standing tall—shit—so tall. He pulled Josh's hand up, curling his own hands around him, tugging him away from the bar. Silently Josh followed, aware that people were staring. He imagined that they were probably wondering why the man had chosen Josh, why Josh was different?

  Why am I different?

  He was led quickly to the no-tell motel across the street. Streetlights cast surreal shadows about them as they walked swiftly, the heat in Josh starting to manifest in a tangle of worry and fear. He had never done this before; never picked up a prostitute, never been free of obligation to his wife to be with a man whatever his career. What if no one knew he was here and this guy was a killer? What if…

  "Stop thinking," the hooker commanded. He pulled Josh through the lobby, not stopping to talk to the man at the desk—the man who didn't even look up.

  "Do you have a room here?" Josh asked. His head was spinning as they climbed one flight of stairs, the carpet thinning its awful pattern of green on gold. They reached a door that his companion just pushed open. Josh stumbled in after him, eyes blind in the sudden darkness of the room. The door shut behind them, leaving them standing in the half dark as Josh's eyes adjusted.

  What did he do now? This was so not him.

  What the hell do I do next?

  He turned and suddenly stopped panicking, all conscious thought fleeing his mind as this image of sin that had pulled him from the bar flicked on a bedside lamp and proceeded to pull at his pants. His erection was outlined beneath the supple leather, hard and ready. He slid the zipper down oh-so-slowly, revealing skin, and more skin, until that magnificent uncut dick was on display under Josh's hungry stare.

  Holy fuck.

  "You're on the clock," the prostitute said conversationally. Piece-by-piece he revealed more skin, legs that went on forever, and muscles, sculpted muscles, hard muscles…

  So fucking hard.

  His words broke through Josh's daze and in ten seconds flat Josh was just as naked, his shoulders rounding, kind of embarrassed at what he was revealing to Mr. Gorgeous-guy-for-sale and his perfect pecs. Tall guy looked impatient, and Josh found it in him to drop his hands and stand loose limbed in front of his destiny.

  What now?

  "What now?" he repeated, this time out loud, hoping against hope the hooker would just do something already.

  "I fuck you. It’s what you are paying me for." He said and moved closer to Josh, his hands resting on Josh's hips. "Tell me what you want. Do you want me to pin you to this bed?" he whispered into Josh’s ear. He dropped a hand and gripped Josh’s dick just this side of too hard, and started moving his hand, twisting on the upstroke. Josh was caught up in the erotic push pull of this hooker’s touch, feeling as if he could come there and then. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, what he could touch, what he couldn’t, what he had paid for, what he hadn’t.

  Finally, he settled for grasping at the drawer unit behind him for balance. He didn’t know what he expected, but he hadn’t expected the talking, and it wasn’t like this man was stopping, his voice dripping with sex into his ear, "... so hot for this aren’t you, so desperate for my cock in your virgin ass?" he smirked, using his free hand to tilt Josh’s chin so Josh could see into the hustler’s eyes, demanding honesty, and Josh assumed this talking was all part of his service. It didn’t matter that it was only a step up from bad porn talk; it was enough to make him hot. "You want me to take you dry, hmmm? Maybe you wanna be punished for wanting a man, instead of wanting the little wife at home, huh?"

  Josh listened and was lost in the hooker’s words, but he reacted with a startled gasp.

  Not dry, not dry, Jeez.

  He must have said something coherent, the hooker looking into his eyes with something akin to curiosity and then finally an acknowledgment of what Josh didn’t want.

  "Didn’t think so," he said. Instead, he leaned his body weight into Josh from thigh to hip, the back of Josh’s legs pressed into the faux wood of the cabinet, and used the fingers of his free hand to twist the hard nub of Josh’s left nipple. Josh couldn’t help the noises he made; he was hot under this professional’s hands, begging for more with every taunt and suggestion that the hooker threw at him. He froze as the man took the bottle of lube from the unit behind him and pumped a generous amount into his hand, and then smoothed it up and around the velvet-covered steel of Josh's cock.

  "So fucking slick and easy for me. You wanna come here and now. So fucking hard for this…you want me to push you on the bed, hold you so you can’t move. Fuck you until you can’t feel anything but me. You want me to show you how it’s done?" He brushed his own erection against Josh, who was harder than he had been for a long time with this stunning forceful man taking him to edge. The hooker chuckled darkly, lowering his mouth to the shell of Josh’s ear. "You wanna know the name of the guy who is gonna get you on all fours on this bed, and fuck you ‘til you can't walk?"

  Josh nodded and heard himself whimper "yes, fuck." His words were jumbled and staccato short.

  "Ethan," the hooker said firmly. "My name is Ethan. Call me Ethan."

  ETHAN

  Ethan looked at this Josh, at the man who was heat and want in his hands. This was one of the easiest jobs he had ever done, a man so gorgeous, pretty, hard and needy. Bright blue eyes were heavy with lust, and then sooty black lashes swept Josh's face as he shut his eyes tight. Ethan didn’t kiss on jobs like this, ever, nor did any of his clients ever get to know his real name. But right now, seeing Josh’s mouth parted in a moan, his name repeated over and over, it was all he could do not to bite down on Josh’s plump lower lip and then lick his way into the appealing open mouth. Groaning inwardly he pulled himself back, he needed to get his head back in the game, and he wasn’t going to expose vulnerability like that. He focused back on what he was doing, turning this man into a pile of sobbing need in his arms.

  "Wanna suck me?" Ethan asked, low and insistent, "want me to force you to your knees, and make you suck me until I come all over your skin, rub it in… make you beg for me?"

  Ethan felt Josh push back at him and smirked, it had been a rhetorical question, but he understood the response of being physically pushed back. It was clear that Josh didn’t want to participate, he had said he just wanted to be fucked, and that is what Ethan intended to do. He shoved Josh back, twisting his fingers over the head of his trick’s hard length again; using every clever move he knew, unrelenting, bending his head to bite a mark into the base of Josh’s neck, hearing the guy keen at the touch.

  "When I am fucking you..." Ethan said forcefully, "you shout my name, you shout for me," he finished in broken sentences. A final twist of his hand was enough to send Josh hurtling into orgasm, success, as the shorter man arched his back and lost it hot and wet over Ethan’s hand. Ethan stood back, struck with the flush of accomplishment as this man before him bowed his head in completion. Ethan hadn't finished, his service always included two for one, and this was one ass he definitely wanted to be in, needed to be in. Jeez, his job wasn’t often this much fun.

  He roughly pushed Josh to the bed, giving the guy no chance to back out now, unaccountably hard at the view of pretty blue eyes and the instant capitulation. He manhandled Josh onto all fours, facing him sideways on the bed all while checking the angles. He reached for more lube in the drawer where he had left it, condoms with a multitude of colored wrappers tumbling on to the bed. He knew Josh would still be relaxed from his orgasm, and Ethan could hear the harsh breathing of a man who had run a marathon, breath catching, and heaving from his mouth, pleas for it not to stop.

  Ethan wasn’t going to stop; he wasn’t going to hang around waiting for the guy to get cold feet, needed this just to be fucking done.

  Using enough slick to ease his finger into Josh’s tight hole, a second finger catching
on the first, he listened to the obscene slip slide of wet on his fingers. Watched it clinically as it dripped to the covers below, wanting this prep to be fast, but for it to be done well enough to matter. He began twisting his fingers, drinking in the delicious sounds of Josh beneath him as Josh pushed back on the fingers in his ass. Ethan reached for a condom and sheathed his own hard dick with the dexterity of practice; then with a third finger, a curl of the digits and he found the bundle of nerves inside Josh. His client was near sobbing his name as Ethan had asked him to. "Ethan, Ethan, fuck, Ethan, Ethan."

  It was enough to know that the client was aware of who it was that was taking him to places he had probably never been, enough to get Ethan off himself. Sending a prayer to the Gods that guided the man who sold his body for money he entered Josh with little finesse. Pushing strong and deep into the heaving body beneath him, his hard hands were bruising and gripping Josh's thighs as he pushed and rutted and marked the man who had paid Ethan to make him to feel. He leaned back slightly to watch as he buried himself tight and fast, time after time, inside this man, his own orgasm building as Josh demanded

  "More. Fuck you. More. Harder."

  Ethan buried a hand in Josh's short brown hair, twisting fingers in it, making sure to pull his head to the left in a hard tug, leaning over him and grabbing a bruising kiss. It was vital that Josh should get his money's worth, and Ethan was satisfied only when Josh had lost it again beneath him, without one touch to his trick’s hard dick. Then and only then allowing himself to come deep inside the dark tightness, coming harder than he had in a long time, profanities on his tongue as he bent low feeling the pump and grind of his dick inside Josh.

  He waited inside for five breaths, that was all he ever allowed himself when an orgasm was pulled from him in such an intense way, just enough time to listen to the whimpers beneath him. There was an odd feeling in his chest, and he recognized it as regret, regret that he had to leave, and it seared through him as he softened and eased out. He discarded the condom and pulled on his pants, catching sight of himself in the cracked wall mirror, seeing the smeared kohl, the sheen of sweat on his skin. He looked debauched