The Rich One (The Escort #1) Read Online N.O. One

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Escort Series by N.O. One
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Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
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I have a secret.
A double life.
My name is River for some, Rose for others.
Everyone gets a piece of me but no one gets it all.
Becoming a high-class escort wasn’t my dream but fate decided otherwise.
Now, I’m caught between the one who broke my heart, the one who pays for my screams, and the one who intrigues me.
I think I have everything under control until danger comes knocking on my door.
The world as I know it is on fire and all I can do is watch it burn.
I just need to try and avoid the flames to get out alive.

TRIGGER WARNING: The Rich One is the first volume of a series of six to be released every other month. It is graphic and morally on the fence containing extremely sensitive material that may not be adapted to your needs. If you’re okay with all of this, just remember…we warned you. On the plus side, the lead female is strong and proud and ‘her’ men come with a fire extinguisher. If you’re still reading after all of that then, by all means, sit down, relax, and enjoy the filthy, bumpy road ahead.

FULL BOOK START HERE:

CHAPTER ONE

“Get on your knees, you worthless piece of shit.”

The shower isn’t very big, but there’s enough room for the guy I’m pegging to turn around, get on his knees and kneel at my feet. He stares up at me with lust-filled eyes as I grab the sides of his face and position myself over him.

And then I let it out. I pee all over his hair like I’m giving him a shower—which I am. A golden one. Groans of pleasure erupt from him as he palms his dick, roughly tugging at it before he spurts all over his hand just as I dry up.

“Good boy.” After helping him stand, I turn the shower on, full and hot. Cleanliness is essential when engaging in watersports. I’m careful with my wig because getting it wet would kill my client’s fantasy.

He doesn’t speak as he scrubs his tanned, athletic body, but that’s not unusual for him. This is the third time I’ve seen him in the last three years. Always on the same day, always the same request, always the same humiliation. This guy is definitely broken.

Stepping out of the shower, he wraps his waist with a fluffy dark-blue towel before grabbing my pink one and folding it around me. I always bring my own since it’s the only way to guarantee it hasn’t been spunked on before I rub it all over my body. Past experience has taught me a few things, and bringing my own towel is one of them.

“Thank you, Rose. Can I book you in for the same time next year, please?” His complete submissive demeanor has faded now that we’re dressed, his tailored Armani suit giving back some of his power. Though he still holds an air of shyness to him. My background check on him told me he works for his dad, something dealing with finance. He’s a private person, the most I’ve ever heard him speak was at his first booking when we briefly discussed what he wanted, rules, and safe words. Since then, he’s usually waiting on his knees at the foot of the hotel room bed before I arrive, and his only words are “yes, miss” when I demand them—and his request to book his next appointment.

“Of course, John. I’ll schedule you in, and we can arrange the location via email a little closer to the date of our next meeting.” He nods in agreement as I grab my small travel bag full of goodies and wheel it to the door. He doesn't look like a John, but then again, I guess I don’t look like a Rose, either. I know he's using an alias just like I am, but at three-thousand dollars for a couple of hours, I’ll call him the fucking Easter bunny if that’s what gets him off.

This isn’t the life I would have chosen for myself. It’s not like I dreamed of being a call girl while playing with my Barbie dolls. I didn’t write essays at school about fucking men for cash as my end goal. In fact, I didn’t even go to school. My hippie parents wouldn’t allow it, and my brother and I were home-schooled.

No matter how free-loving my family was, I still never imagined my life going in this direction.

Yet, here I am.

Do I regret it? I probably should. However, every time I see the happiness on my brother Everest’s face, I suck it up and tell myself there’s a reason for everything.

I suppose my only respite is that I still get to choose who I fuck. Nobody has a hold on me except for my guilt. Even that is a rarity.

I don't bother with a drawn-out goodbye. There really is no need. I tilt my head slightly in his direction to indicate we're done here as I open the door and walk out. Leaving him to meticulously tie his shoes.


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