Filthy for the Night (For The Night #3) by C.J. Fallowfield Page B

out.
    ‘Are you seeing Miss Beresford again, Sir?’ he
enquired, meeting my surprised gaze in the rear view mirror.
    ‘No. Why would you ask that?’ I frowned. He never
discussed my clients unless I prompted the conversation, or asked a favour of
him, for extra payment of course, like I had for tonight’s arrangement.
    ‘She seemed like a very nice young lady, that’s
all.’
    ‘As opposed to the normal ladies I see?’ I arched
an eyebrow as I looked for his reaction.
    ‘Yes, Sir. Much nicer. In a completely
different league.’
    ‘She was. Is,’ I corrected myself. ‘Far too nice
to be mixed up with the likes of me.’
    ‘If you’ll forgive my impertinence Sir, you’re a
very personable young man, but you’re not getting any younger. At some stage
you’ll have to think of giving up this lifestyle and settling down.’
    ‘I’m twenty-eight not thirty-eight, James,’ I
laughed.
    ‘I know that Sir, but nice young ladies of … breeding
age , that you’re attracted to as well, don’t seem to grow on trees.’
    ‘Yes, thank you for that insight,’ I sighed,
annoyed to be reminded of my feelings for Summer. ‘Can we avoid the topic of my
lack of a personal life from now on?’
    ‘Certainly, Sir. I didn’t mean to offend you.’
    ‘No offence caused, but I’ve got plenty of time to
worry about my personal life, right now I have the rather demanding and feisty
Mrs. Taylor to focus on.’
    ‘That you have, Sir,’ he smiled with a deferential
dip of his head as way of apology.
    ‘Yes,’ I nodded in return and placed my elbow on
the doorframe and stroked my bottom lip with my index finger as I mulled his
observations over. I wasn’t sure if settling down with kids was really in the
picture for a guy like me. I liked my bachelor lifestyle and the comforts my
job afforded me. Plus I wasn’t going to have this level of sexual stamina
forever, I had to make the most of it while I could, ensure that I was set for
life before I even thought of retiring from my profession. I closed my eyes and
an immediate picture of Summer, looking all adorable with her freshly fucked
rosy cheeks as she stood in my shirt came into my mind. God damn her, why wouldn’t
she leave me in bloody peace?
    ‘We’re here, Sir.’ James’s voice startled me out
of a very pleasant fantasy scenario of my own, where I had Summer shackled to my
cross and was flicking her clit with a long crop, stroking myself as she
screamed with pleasure. She would have been an excellent submissive with the
right training. I liked my women feisty and challenging out of the bedroom, but
compliant in it. I reached down and adjusted my pulsating cock in my suit
trousers.
    ‘Then you’d better confirm our arrival over the
intercom,’ I advised as we idled on the gravel drive of her gated property. I
wondered how much filler or liposuction she’d had done for this appointment.
She’d been a damned attractive brunette the first time I’d met her in that box.
She’d only just started seeing Eoin Taylor, the premiership’s rising star at
the time, but as his fame and fortune grew, so did her additions. She looked
more and more fake each time I saw her. Fake tits, fake nails, fake orange
bloody tan, fake hair extensions, a nipped and tucked body to turn her into a
size eight, instead of that sexy size twelve I’d met. I preferred my women a
little more natural, than this forced Barbie doll look. Did most guys seriously
prefer that to a real woman? I’d take Summer every day over Yasmin and her
other little group of plastic WAGs I was paid handsomely to fuck. Thank God all
footballers’ wives didn’t bow to that pressure. Thank God most women in general
didn’t, they were being set a seriously bad example by some of these
celebrities in the media every day.
     

Yasmin Taylor

    ‘Chardonnay, I really have
to go and get ready. You know it’s my night with Logan, he promised me that he
has something really special planned for me.’
    ‘You’re