Pillow Talk Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Pillow Talk

  By

  Luke Prescott

  Pillow Talk

  Copyright © 2017 Luke Prescott

  Cover Design: Mayhem Cover Creations

  Editor: Devilish Desires

  Formatting: Devilish Desires

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For my aunt

  I miss you everyday

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Definition of pillow talk

  Pillow talk is the relaxed, intimate conversation that often occurs between two sexual partners after sexual activity, usually accompanied by cuddling, caresses, and other physical intimacy. It is associated with honesty, sexual afterglow, and bonding, and is distinguished from dirty talk which usually forms part of foreplay. Pillow talk, more broadly may also refer to conversations between parties that may be of a more casual and flirting nature, and are not necessarily engaged in a physical relationship.

  Chapter One

  Brooke

  Sitting at the bar of this upscale hotel in the middle of Manhattan, I take a small sip of my vodka cranberry. I let my eyes drift to the right and I notice an older couple laughing as they talk about their kids. To the left is a sad woman who looks to be drinking her troubles away. I take out my compact and appear to be checking my reflection, but my focus is on the table of high profile businessmen behind me. A small smile creeps onto my face when I spot him. Bingo. Time to get to work.

  Sliding off the black-lacquered bar stool, I saunter past the table. My strapless gray dress hugs my body perfectly and it’s immediately noticed. He runs his eyes over my entire body as I make my way by and I give him my perfectly crafted flirty smile. I spend as much time as I can in the bathroom. Checking my makeup, washing my hands, checking my phone. Anything to give him time to wonder if I’m going to walk past again or if he’s missed his chance and I left.

  My purple heels announce my presence before he even sees me again. Which is exactly what I want, because he looks up from his drink on the bar, and his brown eyes slam into mine. Check. I try to disguise a smile by biting down on my bottom lip. Check. Swaying my hips as I walk past, I watch his eyes widen as I peek over my shoulder. Check. I give him two minutes before he’s over here and eating out of the palm of my hand.

  Just as I knew it, he stands next to me, giving me a toothy smile. “Is this seat taken?” He casually nods to the stool next to me.

  “No, please,” I say, waving a perfectly manicured hand.

  He starts talking, and I don’t even bother to listen. I know what he’s saying. I know when to laugh, when to respond, when to tilt my head as if I’m taking in every word. This isn’t the information I want. I don’t care about his everyday life. About the long hours he works or the buckets of money he has. He doesn’t need to try to impress me. He’s my client, he just doesn’t know it.

  After an hour of pretending to listen, I cross my legs and take a small sip of my drink. He needs to make a move, I can’t be the one to pursue him. Everything about this is making them believe they are in control, that it’s their words and their actions that have me hooked. Men don’t realize how easy it is to get them to do what I want without saying a word.

  Grinning, I let my eyes drift down his body while he’s still trying to impress me. Keeping my focus on what I’m sure is a small cock, he clears his throat and I snap my head back to his. Trying to hide my fake smile, I think of the time I had my toilet paper stuck to my ballet shoe on stage, which gives me the blush he thinks he’s caused. “Sorry, what did you say?” I ask, nibbling on the corners of my mouth.

  He rests his smooth, weak hand on my thigh and attempts to gives it a squeeze. “Brooke, would you like to come have a drink up in my room?”

  There it is. “I’d love to,” I reply, grabbing my purse.

  Placing his limp hand on the small of my back he leads me to the elevator. We are both silent on the way up. There’s nothing to say yet, that’s not how this goes. He’ll start when we get into the room. He’ll tell me this isn’t something he normally does. He’ll tell me that he’s never been more attracted to someone before. He’ll explain that I need to remember this is only about sex because he doesn’t have time for a relationship. That as amazing as it’s going to be, he doesn’t want me to mix up my feelings.

  Happens every time. It’s getting more difficult not to laugh when they explain all this because they have no idea the amount of absolute no interest I have. I’m not interested in them, in their money, in having sex. All I want is what happens after. I want them to spill their secrets, and they always do.

  He’s taken off his clothes and removed mine and we are kissing in front of the bed. His hands are resting on my shoulders and his kiss is slow and boring. It’s nothing new, it’s how these businessmen are. Boring as hell.

  Moving to the bed, he climbs on top of me and smiles while putting on a condom. Biting my lip, I move my hands up his lanky arms and he nearly comes on the spot. Leaning in to kiss me again, I just let it happen. When I first started doing this I figured maybe somewhere along the way I’d come into contact with a guy that was different. A guy who didn’t only screw missionary style. Who I didn’t need to fake my orgasm with. Someone who would be a challenge. It’s never happened and it has me questioning why I’m still doing this.

  “Brooke, I’m so close, are you?” he asks as I watch his body start to shake.

  “Oh God yes,” I moan out, tossing my head back.

  It’s been five minutes, maybe less and he already crashes down on me in complete ecstasy. I wrap my arms around him as he buries his face into my neck, and I roll my eyes.

  Laying on our sides, with
the blanket pulled up of course, the real work is about to begin.

  “I can see why you’re so successful. I mean if you’re as good with business as you are in bed, you were underplaying how powerful a man you really are,” I say, linking my fingers with his.

  “Darling, you have no idea,” he says, puffing his bony chest out with pride.

  I may not know now, but in a few minutes, I’m going to know it all.

  Chapter Two

  Brooke

  Slowly and carefully, I lift the blanket off myself so I’m able to slide out of bed without being noticed. Once my feet hit the cold wooden floor, I peek back to make sure he’s still asleep. Breathing a sigh of relief, I stand up and quickly collect my clothes. His snoring is echoing around the dimly lit hotel room as I swiftly get dressed, stepping back into the tight gray dress I started the night in.

  Once I’m dressed, I grab my heels and glance back once more. He’s still asleep so I sneak out the door, gently closing it behind me. The bright light of the hallway blinds me for a moment as I open my purse. My eyes adjust to the brightness as I pull out my compact and fix my makeup, wiping away the black that has run under my bright blue eyes. Once that’s good, I pull my long brown hair up into a ponytail and have one last look. Good enough.

  Slipping my purple heels back on, I make my way to the elevator. Once inside I make a fast phone call to make sure my ride is here. I’m assured it is just as the doors slide open. Stepping out, the sound of my heels hitting the tiles echoes through the empty lobby. The red haired clerk at the desk lifts her smiling face toward me and I return the smile as I slip outside. The warm summer breeze wraps around me as I look for the car.

  “Miss Alexander.” I turn my head to the left and see Joe the driver standing by the car.

  “Hey Joe,” I say as I reach him. He nods and opens the door for me. “Thanks.”

  He doesn’t say a word as he drives me through Manhattan. It’s nothing new though, he never does. Occasionally he’ll make small talk, but not tonight. He’s smarter than anyone gives him credit for and I believe he knows exactly what’s about to happen. The sad smile he’s been giving me all day gives him away. Not to anyone else, but then again, no one else pays attention to things like I do.

  Skyscrapers light up the dark sky, giving such a peaceful feeling to the night. It’s late, but you’d never know with the amount of people rushing around the streets. Some are probably just leaving a bar, some are probably just starting their night. While we wait at a traffic light, a couple catches my attention. They are laughing as he pulls her into a protective hug. It’s sweet and I feel a pang of jealousy that it’s not me.

  Before I know it, Joe stops the car. I look up at the sixty-five floors in front of me and grin. It’s time. Joe opens the door for me and I step out onto the sidewalk. “Thanks Joe,” I say, sticking my hand out to him.

  He smiles and wraps his big hand around mine. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Alexander.”

  “Yes, it definitely has,” I reply and walk inside.

  Getting off the elevator on the thirty-sixth floor, I run my hands down my dress. Opening the door to the office I’ve been in countless times over the last five years, I step inside. Just like the hotel lobby, the office is empty. No secretary sitting at the front desk, no phones ringing, no typing away at the computer. It’s completely silent, as I make my way to Pete’s office. Knocking once, I open it and walk in.

  He immediately stands from his dark, wood desk as I walk in. Raising his graying, black eyebrows, he shoves his hands in the pants pockets of his perfectly tailored suit. “Well?”

  “I got it,” I say as I sit down. For the next hour I tell him all the information I was able to get.

  “Brooke, you’re amazing,” he says, opening the top drawer of his desk. “Here’s your next assignment.”

  Taking a deep breath, I tilt my head. “Pete, this was the last time. I’m walking away.”

  Dropping the file on his desk, he leans forward, folding his hands on the desk. “Why?”

  “I’ve been sleeping around and getting you information for five years, Pete. I can’t do it anymore. You know I started this to get my dance studio going and I have, which means I don’t need to do this anymore,” I say, with a tight smile.

  “Brooke, I need you.”

  “No, you need someone.”

  “There is no one that can do this job like you. No one else is capable of the way you can seduce them into bed. And they sure as hell can’t get them to open up during pillow talk like you can. Name your price,” he says, leaning back in his large leather chair.

  Crossing my legs, I wipe my sweaty palms on my dress. “It’s not about the money. It’s about living my dream. I can’t do that if I’m screwing the secrets out of these business men. I’m sorry Pete, but I’m walking away.”

  He blows out a breath and shakes his head. “One last time Brooke, after that I’ll let you go. This is a big one.”

  I laugh as I stand up. “Sorry Pete.” I turn and begin to walk to the door.

  “How’s business going?” he asks, his booming voice echoing around the room.

  Turning back I smile. “It’s going great.”

  He nods his head. “I’m not a betting man, but I’d be willing to bet that if the mom’s of those little princesses you teach dance to found out that you sleep around for money, they probably wouldn’t want anything to do with going to your dance studio.” Shaking his head, he makes a tsking sound. “That would be a damn shame.”

  Feeling like the wind was just knocked out of me, I try to take a deep breath. “Are you blackmailing me?”

  He grabs the file off his desk and walks over to me. “One more time Brooke.”

  Fucking piece of shit.

  Chapter Three

  Owen

  I need a drink, and quick. I haven’t been back in Manhattan in what feels like forever. As I step through the door of my high-rise apartment, I make my way to the kitchen before anything else.

  Bourbon is the only thing that can relax the tension in my shoulders. Slipping out of my jacket, I hang it on the back of the bar stool. I yank my tie, loosening it as I make my way downstairs to my office.

  Firing up the computer, I lean back in my leather chair. An email pops up that peaks my interest Looks like I’m sticking around longer than I thought. Not that I had any intentions of going anywhere, but this email, it’s exactly what I’ve been waiting for. A small smile creeps onto my face and I pick up my bourbon.

  “Cheers, asshole.”

  I spend the rest of the night putting documents together and drinking. I’ll be ready when it’s necessary.

  **

  Waking up in my own bed after being gone for so long is a damn dream. I have one meeting today and after that I’m taking a few days for myself. I’m going to have fun and not think about anything for a while. It’s been too long since I’ve let that happen.

  After a quick shower, I toss on my power suit complete with my favorite red tie. I take a second, staring at my father’s gold Rolex watch. I secure it around my wrist and head off downstairs.

  The warm morning sun beats down on me as I walk to Starbucks to get my morning energy. I should have left earlier because standing in the line waiting is going to make me late and that’s something I never am. The minutes tick by and as I reach the front and place my order, I realize I have fifteen minutes until my meeting starts.

  Grabbing my coffee, I rush outside racing for the cab that just pulled over across the street. Opening the door I get in. “Uptown,” I say.

  “Downtown.” I hear at the exact same time. A brunette vixen turns her steely blue eyes on me and raises an eyebrow. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “This is my cab, blue eyes. I’m late for a meeting, so you can grab the next one.” Looking at the driver, I hold up some cash. “Uptown.”

  “Whoa. I hailed this cab, it’s mine. I need to get downtown, so get out,” she says, crossing her arms in defiance.
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  “I don’t have time for this petty bullshit, blue eyes.” I grab a hundred out of my wallet and hold it out to her. “I’ll cover your ride downtown, but in a different cab.”

  She laughs, shaking her head. “Cocky son of a bitch. I don’t need or want your money. Get the hell out of my cab.”

  Running my hands through my hair, yanking slightly out of aggravation I toss the hundred at the cab driver. “Take me uptown and if blue eyes here wants to come for the ride, you can take her downtown after.” Before she can even say anything he’s pulling out into traffic.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she says under her breath.

  I laugh a little at her annoyance. “I gave you a chance to get out, you didn’t want to,” I say, looking down at my phone.

  “Are you always this arrogant or just with women?”

  Putting my phone away, I cross my arms. “Are you always this condescending or just with guys?”

  She laughs and puts down the gym bag she is holding. “Listen, Mr. Entitled Prick. I’m many things, condescending isn’t one of them. I’m smarter than you think, stronger than I look and know more than you’d imagine.”

  “Condescending and confident, good for you blue eyes,” I say with a small grin.

  “What the hell makes you believe you’re time is more important than mine? Because you wear a suit and have an expensive Rolex on you think you’re better than me? That I couldn’t possibly have somewhere as important to be because I’m in jeans and a T-shirt.” When she’s done with her long ass rant, I look her up and down, simply shrugging my shoulders. “Pull over,” she shouts at the cab driver.

  “You couldn’t have done this before and saved us both time,” I say, adjusting my tie. She grabs her bag, shaking her head and it causes her long brown hair to fall into her face.

  The cab pulls over and she pushes open the door. Turning her head to look at me, I can see the anger in her eyes. “Entitled prick.” Getting out she slams the door shut.