Chelsea McGuire is ready to rebound after surviving a dark chapter of her life. Her best friend, Roxy, gives her a special present in celebration on the anniversary of being free from her abusive ex-husband, Dean—one night of pleasure with a pricey gigolo.
Sean Acosta is mistaken as a male prostitute when he offers to buy her a drink. His instant attraction to the curvy sultry Chelsea quickly feels like an obsession so he plays along as her rented date. He knows exactly what she needs. Sean offers her a deal, if she agrees to become his plaything for the next three weeks, he will show her many shades of pleasure to help her heal.
While a case of mistaken identity stirs enough fire between them, Hell on Earth couldn't match the heat of their private sessions.
Reader Advisory: This book contains sex with toys, sex in a public place and nyotaimori.
General Release Date: 25th July 2011
New York
The one thing that stole her breath the most was his smile.
He had a killer smile. One that could make your heart skip a beat and, the next thing you knew, you were ready to drop to your knees, willing to do whatever he pleased. Of course, that wasn’t the only icing on the cake. The man was tall, well built, and looked as if he was the incarnation of the Greek god Apollo swathed in a black Versace sport suit. He looked neither young nor old. Perhaps he was in his late thirties or early forties—a true eye-candy man women drooled over and secretly fantasised about when they made love to their husbands or boyfriends. And, as if he had cast a spell over her, his smile alone made Chelsea forget her line for a second.
“Hello, are you waiting for someone?” he asked.
Chelsea scrutinised him closer. He must be her rented date. But she thought he was slightly different from his snapshot she’d seen at Margo’s office. This man had the same height. Same build. Same hair colour. Chelsea still wasn’t sure about it. She felt there was something missing and couldn’t quite put her finger on what. When Margo had shown the photos of her escorts, she’d been in a deep nervous wreck. Those handsome faces had begun to blur together after Margo had shown the fifth photo. Luckily, Margo had armed her with a password to identify each other. She cleared her throat and whispered, “Is love a tender thing? It is too rough...”
The man blinked. Another smile followed. “Too rude, too boist’rous, and it pricks like thorn.”
A surge of relief washed over her. The password matched. He was her date of the evening all right. “Well. You’re early.”
“Am I?” His smile deepened. His light brown eyes twinkled. His clean-cut sandy hair complemented his lightly tanned complexion, making him look too sophisticated to be a gigolo.
Chelsea glanced at her watch, forcing the growing anxiety into the back of her mind. The man stood closer than she would have preferred. She always felt uncomfortable when a man invaded her personal space, an annoying neurosis she tried to kick. “It’s six forty-five. I was expecting you at seven. Shall we go up now?”
His eyebrows arched. “Up?”
“Or do you prefer to have dinner first?” Chelsea cast a glance at her surroundings. The butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t go away. If this continued, she was afraid she was going to be nauseous and embarrass herself. “I personally would like to get this session ended before midnight. I have to catch an early plane tomorrow morning.”
The man looked puzzled for a moment. Then a blank mask glossed over his face. “Sure.”
“Fantastic.”
They rode an elevator to the fifth floor where Margo had reserved a suite for the rendezvous. Chelsea fished the hotel keycard from her purse and slid it through the key reader of their reserved room. She pushed it open. The sight of ultimate luxury welcomed her. Chelsea was impressed. She didn’t want to think how much this room would cost if she had to pay it from her own pocket.
Roxy Knight, her best friend and confidante, had given her a special gift for the anniversary of the day Chelsea was free from her abusive ex-husband, Dean. She didn’t have deep pockets like Roxy, whose husband was a banker. After her bitter divorce and long months spent on an emotional rollercoaster, she was just starting over again. New town. New apartment. And, soon, a new job.
The hotel had given a complimentary fruit basket and a Champagne bucket. She turned to him, gripping the edge of the table to hide the creeping anxiety. “Would you like a glass of champagne?”
“I’ll pour you some. Why don’t you get yourself comfortable?”
“I am comfortable.”
He smiled again. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Chelsea sat on a chaise longue. He went to the table and uncorked the champagne and she wondered why a man like him would be doing a job like this. He didn’t look like a gigolo at all. The man could easily be mistaken for a businessman from the way he carried himself. There was an air of arrogance in him. Elegance. Power. And dominance. And she knew all about power and dominance. Her ex Dean had been anything but. “What’s your name?” she called out.
He poured two glasses of champagne and handed one to her. “What’s yours?”
“Call me Anna.” Chelsea took the glass and had a sip. She thought Anna was an appropriate name for spending a night with a total stranger like him. Generic name. Totally forgettable.
“Just Anna? Like Madonna or Cher, you just go by Anna?”
“Just Anna,” she echoed. Margo said she didn’t have to give out her personal information if she didn’t feel comfortable with it.
He sat beside her. “I’m curious why you’re being so secretive? Let me guess, you work for the government.”
She snorted.
“A spook?”
“Funny guy, but let’s cut to the chase, shall we?”
“Okay.”
Chelsea took a deep breath and forced herself to say the words she’d rehearsed a hundreds time before. “I’m pretty vanilla, not really into kinky stuff. Not into pain. Not into icky stuff either. All in all, I’m an easy girl to please.”
“I see.”
Hello, my name is Lizzie. I'm a simple gal, love watching TV, playing guitar, and enjoying chocolate and spicy food. I have been writing as long as I can remember. Originally I want to be a horror writer, like my hero Stephen King. But I find writing smut is more fun than writing dismembered body parts. I also want to be a ninja but I heard the pay is peanut. Plus my HMO does not cover throwing star accident. Wanna send me an email? Drop me a line at lizzie@iLizzie.com
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