Trust in Me Read Online Free Page B

cockroach—he could survive even a nuclear disaster. Probably turn a nice buck, too. When I broke up the trafficking bit, he’d lose some money and some credibility. That would be it. But Tyler, shit. If he was running security, he’d be right there . He might get caught. He might get killed. And it would all be my fault.
    I smoothed my face in a well-practiced move as they came into the room. Tyler’s icy blue eyes ran over my body and then away. He was cold to me after I’d given him my spiel about once-a-whore-always-a-whore. Probably I’d torn down some of his illusions about quiet little girls not growing up into dirty prostitutes, but whatever. He was one to judge, considering what kind of business he was in.
    I played the serene hostess, offering food or service, but not speaking much. That’s what Carlos wanted. I was a prop, like his Rolex or the antique furniture. Expensive things belonged to powerful men.
    I sat between them, touching both of them while they touched me back. I was the link between them, the conduit. It wasn’t sexual between them, not like that. It was more like a fist bump, mob boss style.
    Tyler put his hand on my bare thigh, too high to be anything innocent. “How long has she been with you?”
    He spoke over me, across me, to Carlos. The dismissal was obvious and no less painful because I already knew what he was.
    “A few years now,” Carlos said. “She’s a loyal one. And pretty, no?”
    “Yes,” Tyler said, stroking my leg, higher, higher. “Very pretty. She stays with you all the time?”
    Carlos laughed. “So she did please you. Yes, she stays with me. Why, are you interested in a rental?”
    “Maybe,” Tyler said.
    Carlos ran his knuckles across my breast. “Normally I wouldn’t consider such a thing. I like to keep her near. She is good stress relief. But for you? Well, we’ll see.”
    I fumed inside. My anger and pain and humiliation curled and coiled over my skin until they threatened to strangle me. I was used to being a whore. I was used to being passed around, to being a toy and not a person. But not to Tyler. I wasn’t used to being treated as less than human by Tyler and I never would be.
    It was my fault. I’d tried to put him off the whole humanitarian bit by convincing him I was truly a whore. Apparently I’d convinced him since he was now content to treat me like one.
    Tyler’s fingers nudged my thigh to the side. I let it fall open. The short black skirt rode even higher, just barely covering the bare skin at the center. He inched his fingers up until they touched my sensitive flesh. I wanted to gasp, to squirm, but instead I went deathly still.
    Let him have my body. It wasn’t worth much anyway.
    Tyler fingered me, gently at least, as his mouth found my neck. Jesus, he was horny as hell. He’d certainly gotten over his reticence since last time. Maybe even that had been an act, pretending like he was reluctant, like he only fucked me because Carlos would punish me otherwise. A guy who participated in trafficking wouldn’t exactly value a woman, especially not one like me.
    But, traitor that my body was, his ministrations started to affect me. Wetness coated his fingers, but that was a good thing. It kept me safe, kept my pussy from getting torn apart by invading fingers and cocks and other things. Little sparks of pleasure appeared, taunting my anger at Tyler. I wasn’t really mad at Tyler. I was mad at myself. How could I let myself be pleasured by him?
    Conversationally, with his fingers in my pussy, Tyler said, “How often do you pass her around?”
    I clenched around his fingers, but not in pleasure. Carlos’s hands, which had been stroking my breast, tightened painfully. Didn’t Tyler know who he was dealing with?
    “Whenever I want. She’s mine,” Carlos said. I’d expected more anger, but that was probably coming. He seemed as surprised as I that Tyler would speak to him so disrespectfully.
    “I would think…” Tyler trailed off