Two Rules by Roxy Sloane

Author:Roxy Sloane [Sloane, Roxy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Roxy Sloane Books

Vaughn

I throw the photos from last night across the desk at Phil Markham: my client, and an all-around chump. He’s got a beer-gut, receding hairline, and a nervous laugh that’s already driving me out of my fucking mind.

No wonder his wife got wet the minute she laid eyes on me. This guy couldn’t find his way to her clit with a fucking GPS.

“There you go.” I nod at the pictures of his wife with her legs spread, licking my cum off her own tit. It’s not artistic, sure, but it gets the message across.

His mouth drops open in shock. “Is this...” he stutters. “Did you..?”

“Fuck her, like you wanted.” I yawn. Half my clients are happy just to have the job done, but then you get guys like Phil, who wanted her to cheat -- right up until the moment she does it.

He flips through the photos, his eyes widening. “She never goes down on me.”

“Consider it a lucky break.” I remember her slobbering. “She can’t suck for shit.”

He bristles. “That’s my wife you’re talking about.”

“Your soon-to-be ex-wife,” I correct him, “who’s about to be screwed in the divorce, thanks to those. Aren’t you the one who wanted to cut her loose with nothing?”

“Well, yes, but...” Phil squints at the final photo like he wants to argue some more, but I’m already done.

“My final invoice is in the file. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”

Phil blusters some more about my prices, but he clears out pretty quick once I remind him about the money he’s saving on that invalid prenup. When the door closes, I sigh in relief.

Finally. Some motherfucking peace.

I grab a handful of Advil and wash them down with a swig of Jack from my bottom drawer. After I left last night’s job, I wound up at a club downtown with a couple of exotic dancers and a bottle of tequila. Now, those girls could show Mrs. Markham a thing or two about giving head. They’d been around the block for sure, but damn, if they hadn’t picked up a trick or two.

I remember Desiree licking her way across Lola’s breasts and feel myself get hard again. That’s when the door flies open and my newest client comes striding in.

“I thought I paid you to get the job done!” he growls, dark eyes flashing. “So why the fuck are you sitting around here instead of screwing that bitch?”

I slowly get to my feet. He’s a smug bastard: flashy pinstripe suit and a king-sized Rolex. Cloak and dagger shit too: no full name, no contact address, just a cell number for a burner phone. If it wasn’t for the huge check he came waving around, I wouldn’t have touched his business. I’m already regretting the choice.

“You don’t barge the fuck into my office. Make a damn appointment. Maggie!” I yell to my assistant in the next room.

She pokes her head around the door. “He wouldn’t listen.” She shrugs, then disappears.

“I’m paying an arm and a leg for your ‘services.

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