Say You're Mine: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Southport Love Stories Book 4) by Sarah Brooks (books for 6 year olds to read themselves .txt) 📕

“Do you like working at the strip club?” she asked.

I was taken aback by the question. It was a strange one given what we were currently doing. “Yeah. I do,” I told her, confused.

“Why? What do you like about it?” Her hand was still around my dick, her thumb rubbing the tip in slow, lazy circles. It made it hard to concentrate.

“I like the money. I told you why I need it,” I said.

“Any other reasons?” she murmured, still rubbing the head of my cock with the pad of her thumb.

“I like that women want me,” I groaned as she squeezed me in her grip and started to pump me, slow and steady.

“Oh yeah, baby. They want you all right.” She grinned up at me, watching me closely as she started to jerk me off.

“I like that I can be someone different. I like that it’s an act I get to play,” I continued, my breath becoming shallow.

“And do you like this?” she asked, her hand moving faster. I was going to come again.

“Fucking hell, yeah,” I bellowed, closing my eyes

“You like making women feel good?” she kept on.

“Yes. I do.” I felt the pressure mounting. It was like a hot coil in my belly.

“What if you could do this again?” she asked, pulling her hand away just as I was about to blow my load. I opened my eyes, blinking in bewilderment.

“Huh?”

Tiffany sat up, her tits as perky as a twenty-year-old. They weren’t real, but I didn’t care. She reached for a glass of water on her bedside table and took a sip. “You’re a sweet boy and it’s obvious you need a hand up in the world. What if I could give you that hand up?”

I frowned. “I can take care of myself just fine.”

Tiffany turned to me, her smile tender, if not a little condescending. “I’m not saying you can’t. Perhaps I should have said it another way.” She put her hand on my knee. “What if we can help each other.”

I grinned and put my hand between her legs. “I thought that’s what we were doing.” I wiggled my eyebrows and she chuckled.

“It’s hard to have a conversation when you do things like that, Robbie.”

My grin grew wider. “Why do we need to talk?”

Tiffany spread her legs a little wider, giving me access. But even as I started fingering her, she still wanted to talk. “Stripping makes you good money, right?” I nodded. “Well, there are ways to make double—triple even— while making other women feel as good as you’ve made me feel tonight.” She gasped as I pressed her clit.

Her words gave me pause. I was a smart guy, but for some reason, it was taking me a while to catch on to what she was insinuating. I withdrew my fingers and sat back on my haunches, “What are you suggesting?”

Tiffany laughed again, sitting up. “You’re so naive. I love it.” She ran her other hand down the side of my face. “Robbie, I’m a businesswoman. A successful one too. I earned my first million at the age of thirty. I was able to do that because I have an eye for quality. And Robbie, you’re quality.” She seemed to regard me like someone buying a painting. “Would you like to hear about how I can help you get a slice of that very lucrative pie?”

I was intrigued. She had a way of pulling me in. She was a hell of a saleswoman. “Sure. Tell me.”

Tiffany closed her legs and leaned against the headboard. “I run a very successful business that pairs gorgeous young men, like yourself, with very wealthy, very lonely women.” She watched me as I digested the information. “I find men who need a way to make a lot of money and I help them. But it’s not just about the men, it’s about the women too. There are a lot of women out there that need to feel good about themselves and you’d do that for them. And they’ll love you for it. And pay you handsomely for the privilege of your company. Just as I have.”

She took a cigarette from the drawer and lit it. I watched her draw in a lungful of smoke and slowly exhale. I’d always hated smoking. I thought it made a person look trashy. Not Tiffany Hardwell. She made it look seductive and erotic. Like an old-school Hollywood star.

“You’re saying you run an escort business?” I asked, finally putting the pieces together. I was a smart guy. Smarter than most. But my lack of actual real-world experience was putting me at a disadvantage in this situation. I came across as a total moron.

“Escort sounds so seedy.” She waved her hand. “This is about companionship. Relationship building. You spend time with these women—”

“And have sex with them,” I interrupted.

“If that’s where it goes, then yes,” she agreed. “But it’s not something I push my boys to do. I leave it up to them. Many of them see it as a way of using their...natural gifts...as a way to make others happy. All of my boys enjoy themselves. I make sure of it.” She extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray and took my hands in hers. “You’re special, Robbie. So special. You made me feel alive tonight. I haven’t had an orgasm like that since I was a teenager.” Her eyes flashed. “I want other women to feel the way you made me feel. You have a gift, baby. An incredible gift. And you should be sharing that with the world.”

I ran my hand down my face. “I don’t know—” I started to say. Stripping was one thing, prostitution was another.

“My boys charge a thousand dollars an hour, Robbie,” she interjected, shutting me up.

My mouth went dry.

“A thousand dollars? An hour?”

“I take ten percent, of course. A procurement fee, if you will.”

“Of course,” I croaked, feeling like I