Cover & Excerpt
by Villette Snowe
A poignant tale of loss, love, and moving on. Everyone deals with grief in their own way. For Heath, that meant becoming a gigolo. When he finds the woman that could turn his life around, she doesn’t understand his choice, and he’s left alone again. With a self-imposed one-year deadline, Heath needs to find a way to convince Kimber that his love is real.
Heath is an Ivy League graduate, a published writer, and a widower. He’s also a gigolo. After his wife’s infidelity and suicide, he lost himself in sex with other women.
When he meets Kimber, he struggles against his feelings for her, but eventually accepts that he’s fallen in love. But Heath’s sister tells her how he makes money, and Kimber leaves. Heath turns his back on his sister and his clients and struggles with the urge to follow in his dead wife’s footsteps. He settles on a compromise, a one-year deadline. If he doesn’t feel he can move on with life after one year, he’ll allow himself to end it. Will Kimber realize the honesty of his feelings and forgive him in time?
Genre: Contemporary RomancePurchase links: LSB Amazon ARe iTunes Kobo B&N
Content/Theme(s): Short F/F/M scene
Release Date: June 6, 2014
Publisher: Liquid Silver Books
Excerpt & More
I sat alone in my room, waiting for Penny to bring a woman to me. She always brought me someone at this time in the morning.
I wished my room had windows. At least the fireplace, albeit some unvented flueless thing with fake logs, was nice. I supposed it was romantic. Women paid for romance, not just sex.
For me, it was just sex.
This was all my life was about. It used to be perfect. Penny handled all the details, set up a room for me in the back of her shop, and brought me women to screw. They wanted to be screwed, and they didn’t want anything more from me than that. Life was perfect.
I wasn’t so sure anymore.
A knock, and the door opened.
I stood from the bed. I hoped it was someone pretty today. It was much more enjoyable when I could look at her face and slide my hands over her skin without being turned off.
Elizabeth walked in.
I smiled. I liked Elizabeth. She was a nice woman, and I had the feeling her husband wasn’t very interested in her. I liked making her feel good.
I walked over, closed the door, and took her hand. “How are you, Elizabeth?”
Even after all the times we’d been together, her smile was a little bashful. That was cute. Too bad she was married and almost twenty years older than me.
Damn, Heath, what in the hell are you thinking? You want to get involved with one of these women? Are you insane? Lately, I’d been starting to believe I was just that—fucking nuts. Maybe it was my turning thirty that brought it out. I just hoped I didn’t go schizo like Mom. But then I supposed a psych ward wouldn’t be all that different from this, just no silk sheets and fireplaces. I’d probably still screw around. It’s all I knew anymore.
I led Elizabeth over to the bed. “How long do we have?” Which was my polite way of asking how long did she pay for.
“I have to leave at 11:30. School’s only a half day today.”
She had a daughter who was a senior in high school. She showed me her picture once.
I leaned closer and brushed my lips against her neck—she always smelled nice, something musky. “What would you like today?”
“Uh...” she said with a sigh.
I loved that I still had this effect on her, on all of them.
My hands smoothed down her silk blouse and started unbuttoning. Her breathing heaved her breasts out of her bra. She still had nice breasts, decent body in general. She told me once that she swims several miles a day.
“Cunnilingus perhaps?” I whispered in her ear.
While kissing her shoulder, I unhooked her bra. “Mmm, sounds fun.”
“Strip for me.”
She was finally starting to feel comfortable enough to ask me to do things.
I stepped back, into the light from the fireplace, and pulled my shirt off over my head. Then I slowly unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans.
As Elizabeth moved closer, she dropped her bra and skirt on the floor. Part of what I liked about Elizabeth was that I could get hard by simply looking at her.
Her hands trailed across my shoulders and down my chest. She pulled my jeans down as she kneeled.
Her tongue was warm.
I rested my hand on her hair and watched. Oral sex sometimes felt more honest. She had lovely full lips, used to speak, to kiss, to smile, and now to lavish attention on me. Fuck, she was good at this.
“Mmm,” she murmured.
She rested her hands on my thighs.
I liked when she got like this, lost in the experience. She wasn’t self-conscious anymore. She was an insanely good fuck when she wasn’t self-conscious.
She looked up at me.
I lowered to my knees, pulled my hand through her hair, and kissed her. Without breaking the kiss, I slipped on a condom, and then I lifted her onto my lap and slid myself into her. She moaned.
She held on to me and screeched my name until she couldn’t seem to phrase it anymore. There was nothing coherent left, nothing rational. We were just two bodies coming together for pleasure. It was nice. I didn’t have to think, to worry if I was doing the right thing. It seemed so simple.
And she was enjoying herself. I liked when she clung to me, when she moaned. I knew I was wiping away all her stress, all her fears and worries. She didn’t talk much about it, but I knew her life was difficult. This was the best way I could help her, my friend.
Her back arched, and her head leaned back. I could feel her orgasm begin.
“Heath,” she said with a sigh. “Oh God.”
I kept the same rhythm and made her orgasm last. We had time for only one. I wanted to make it good.
She screeched something incoherent. She sounded like she could hardly breathe.
Finally, we slowed and then stopped. I held her close to me, and she rested her head on my shoulder.
I stroked my hand down her hair. “That was very enjoyable.”
She sighed contentedly.
“Do you feel better now?”
She sat up and looked at me.
“You come here when you’re stressed,” I said.
She smiled a little. “You always make me feel better.”
Still smiling, she stood, slowly pulling away. My penis flopped down against my thigh. It wasn’t hard anymore but still full size. It was a few inches shy of reaching down to my knee. I’d been told by several women I was impressively large. I didn’t really know.
“You’re lovely, you know,” I said as I watched her dress.
She hooked her bra. “Always the charmer.”
“I don’t need to be charming.”
She looked at me up and down. “That’s true.”
“But you know those pretty eyes won’t always get you what you want.”
“Pretty?” I said in an offended tone.
“Don’t tell me no one’s told you that.” Then she added, “It’s your lashes I think that does it.”
I’d been told that. One woman in particular used to say it all the time. I slapped a fake charming grin on my face.
“Are you not going to get dressed?” she said.
“I’m watching you.”
She rolled her eyes and pulled on her blouse.
Besides, what was the point of dressing when I had to take a shower as soon as she was gone? I had to get her scent off me before the next woman came.
She buttoned her blouse.
She stopped and looked over at me.
“Does your husband treat you well?” I said.
She just looked at me. Sometimes we talked a little when we were done, the only one of them I actually talked to, but this was one subject we never touched on. I waited for an answer. I worried about her, one of the few people I considered a friend.
“He, um...” She continued buttoning. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
“But you would tell me if you needed help?”
“I live in an $800,000 house and drive a Jaguar. What would I need help with?”
She finished buttoning. “You don’t need to worry, not about me.” She moved closer and kneeled on the floor in front of me. “You’re a good man, you know.”
No one had ever said that to me before.
She touched my cheek. “I know something’s hurt you.”
I couldn’t look away.
“I want you to relax when we’re together,” she said. “Don’t think about anything else. Don’t worry about me.” She leaned closer and wrapped her arms around me.
I hugged her back.
“You’re my friend,” she murmured.
I held tighter.
Then she pulled back and kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” She stood and walked across the room and then out the door.
I sat there, still on my knees, and glanced at the clock. Eleven forty-five. Penny was going to be pissed.
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