When the elevator doors opened, I found myself in a large foyer. Rich woods and cream-colored marble dominated the space.

The swanky penthouse should have set my nerves at ease. It did just the opposite, however. I was so out of place standing there in my off-the-rack black dress—my only dress—that was nearly three years old and my red heels from Target, it wasn’t even funny.

Footsteps sounded to my right, amping up my trepidation. I turned towards the sound and sucked in a breath at the man as he rounded the corner.

In a three-piece suit, Mr. Marx was the epitome of the term GQ, with a lean body and toned muscles covered in tan skin. He had a classic Ken doll look about him, right down to his dirty-blond hair and green eyes.

There was no doubt this man had a lock on sex appeal as he crossed the foyer with animal grace, his eyes like a gentle caress over my entire body.

This was good. I could definitely have sex with him. I’d just pretend it wasn’t for money.

The thought stopped me and my musings right in their tracks.

Why was this beautiful man seeking a paid prostitute for affection? Something had to be wrong with him. Either he was married to a cold fish or he had strange kinks that no one wanted to service. A quick glance at his left hand, which was clearly not sporting any tan lines from a ring, and I knew it had to be the latter. Hadn’t Ghost warned me I would get the worst jobs while on probation? The idea made me shudder. Thankfully Marx was too busy checking my legs out to notice.

“Hello, Mr. Marx,” I greeted him, forcing his attention to my face.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Swanson. I must say I’m quite pleased with who Xavier’s sent this evening.” He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth, making my breath hitch. He certainly didn’t waste any time.

“Thank you,” I demurred at his compliment.

“Please. Follow me into the other room. I’m quite looking forward to what I have planned for us.” His hand wrapped around mine, drawing me into the living room and down a short hall, into the master bedroom.

The room was decorated in creams and blues. A massive king-sized bed sat in the middle of the space, its backdrop the city skyline. It was breathtaking, and I found myself longing to have an extravagant room like this all to myself.

Marx stopped at the foot of the bed and faced me. He removed his suit coat, tossing it on a plush chair off to the side. Next he loosened his tie and slipped it from around his neck before removing his vest. He opened several buttons on his dress shirt before stopping and holding his hand out to me.

With slow, slinky steps, I crossed the carpeted floor, hoping I was coming across as sexy and sensual, all the while my heart beat like a steady drum inside my chest. There were so many butterflies in my stomach I was afraid I might puke all over his expensive shoes and fancy bedroom.

Once I was standing in front of him, he grasped my hands in his and raised them to his chest. His hands dropped away, leaving mine pressed against his rather firm pecs. “Undress me,” he instructed.

With trembling hands, I slowly opened the remaining buttons before pushing the silky fabric off his shoulders. I felt like a buffoon when I realized I hadn’t unbuttoned his cuffs and the material trapped his arms at his sides. I let out a self-conscious laugh and tried opening them, but I fumbled a time or two in my nervous haste, almost as if I had two left thumbs.

Marx grabbed my hands with his and my eyes darted up to his face. “It’s okay,” he whispered, and a small part of me relaxed at his kind words. I had been so worried about making a good impression on him up until that point. So focused on trying to be seductive. Maybe if I was just myself, it would go a lot more smoothly.

I had never had to think so damn much when sleeping with someone before. There was far more pressure in performing for money than I had realized there would be.

I took a deep breath and gave him a little nod to let him know I was past my freak-out. With more confidence than I’d had previously, my hands finished their task and then pulled the shirt down his arms before tossing it to the side where his coat had landed.

I bit my bottom lip as my hands ran over the smooth expanse of his muscular chest. His pecs were firm and his nipples pebbled under my touch. My fingers circled the flat discs—earning me a low groan—before gliding lower towards his neatly groomed happy trail.

Being with him wasn’t as difficult as I’d thought it would be. For a moment, I imagined we had been on a romantic date, after which he’d whisked me away to his penthouse in the sky. I pictured the soft kisses he would place on my lips before exploring the rest of my body. And then finally his hard thrusts as he took my body and sent me rushing headlong into blinding passion.

When my hand reached his pants, I opened his belt slowly to build his anticipation. I was rewarded when the impressive bulge in his pants began to grow in front of my very eyes.

His pants slid over his hips and landed with a soft thud on the floor. Marx stepped out of his shoes and kicked his pants to the side. Standing in front of me with nothing but tight black boxer briefs, he was one of the hottest men I had ever been with.

Tingles spread through my core, knowing what was coming. And to my surprise, a small part of me couldn’t wait to see what he had to offer.

My fingers dipped under the elastic on either side of his hips, but before I could divest him of the last of his clothing, he took a step back and shook his head.

Feeling slightly put out, I caught myself pouting, which made him chuckle. The laugh lines around his eyes crinkled and his mouth curled up into a sensual smirk.

“First things first,” he said as he found the zipper on the side of my dress and lowered it.

If it was at all possible, I found my heart beating even more erratically as he pulled my dress off my body. My hands were clammy as my nerves came back in full force.

Standing in nothing but a red lace thong, I felt vulnerable. My mind reeled with the need to cover myself in front of this stranger. It had been so much easier when I was in control of the situation. Now I felt lost and unsure and highly self-conscious.

“Beautiful,” he murmured lowly before leading me over to the side of the bed. His hands lightly caressed my arms and back as he positioned me on my hands and knees on the mattress. With my ass pointed in his direction, he wasted no time giving me the same teasing touches over the skin there. I jumped slightly when I felt his finger graze my opening and barely sink inside.

Before I could adjust to this new intimacy, his hand was gone, only to come back as a pressure between my shoulder blades when he pushed my lower body down onto the bed. There were rustling noises behind me, and I strained to figure out what he was doing.

Several moments later, his hand took mine from where it rested on the bed next to my head and pulled it behind my back. He repeated the motion with my other hand, locking my arms in his firm grip. Next, I felt the smooth yet rough material of rope being wrapped tightly around my hands.

My lungs seized when he tied me up, leaving me completely vulnerable now. He was free to do practically whatever he wanted with me. And while the thought was thrilling in its own right, I found myself on the verge of a freak-out, seeing as how that was an awful lot of trust to be putting into a stranger.

Trussed up, I saw out of the corner of my eye that Marx had stood back to admire his handiwork. His boxers were now gone, and he was stroking his erection almost absently as he appraised my body.

With deft fingers, he drew my thong over my ass and down my thighs, effectively cutting off my ability to move my legs, before running them through my slit. It was the slightest of grazes against my clitoris that had me growing wet and starting to squirm.