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Returning to my Life

Novel By: luvbubbleso

Veronica's life was far from easy...but it hadn't always been like that. Suddenly the solution to all her misfortunes steps into her life...for the second time. Will this cure all her problems...or make it worst? View table of contents...


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Submitted:Nov 23, 2009    Reads: 330    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   

P.O.V. Veronica

"So, where do you want to…" I said in a monotone voice.

I looked up to find a stunning runway model looking at me. A wave of heat seeped through my cheeks.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I think I got the wrong house…" I looked up to check the house number again. Nope it was right, but there was NO way THAT could be him right?

"No you've got the right house. Come on in, its cold outside." he chuckled.

His voice was deep and crisp, like the winter wind. It gave me goosebumps just hearing it. Now all I had to do was figure out what a guy like him needed a girl like me for. I'm sure he had no trouble getting girls in bed…

"Hi I'm Max and you are…?" he questioned.


I could see in his expression he was looking for a last name, but there was no way I'd give one of my 'clients' my last name. I mean a girl does need to protect herself right? You never know what type of people you meet in my line of work.

"Very well then, Veronica where would you like to do this?"

Huh? The question took me by surprise. Wasn't it supposed to be me who asked him?

"Ummm…anywhere you want?" I assumed.

"Okay, then the bedroom perhaps?" he asked. It wasn't a question because he knew the answer already; he was just asking to be polite.

Hmmm...A good looking gentleman who wanted a good time? Too good to be true…There had to be a catch.

"Yeah, sure." I shrugged.

We walked up a long curvy stair and down a hallway filled with portraits of men and women of all ages. As we walked deeper down the hall it was as if the portraits got older and older. The portraits fascinated me, but not because of the emotions shown in each painting. There was something familiar about it. It was as if I'd seen them before. I remembered why I was here and tore my eyes away from the portraits and saw we had stopped in the middle of the corridor. I looked up to find his dark brown eyes staring at mine with such power it felt like he was looking right into my soul. I lightly coughed and broke the intensity between our eyes.

"These pictures are portraits of my ancestors, the oldest ones date back to the 1600's." he informed. I smiled and we started walking in silence again.

"Here we are." Max said as he opened the door to his room.

The room was beautiful. The wall was painted in a warm creamy color and the bed had a huge gold satin canopy on top. The warm wood tone of the bed frame matched the dresser and the two tables on the sides of the bed. Gold had always been my second favorite color. A plasma television was screwed to the opposite end of the wall and another door was to the right of it. I suppose to it led the bathroom. I felt it was designed for the royal highness herself.

"This is…beautiful." I stammered.

I turned to my right and I saw him looking at me intently with this strange expression.

"So…shouldn't we start…?" I whispered.

I obviously brought him out of his deep thoughts because he gave me a look that was resembled to a lost puppy. Then he remembered why I was here and curved his lips into a smile that made my knees weak. He leaned forward and gently applied his lips onto mine.

It took me a minute to react because this wasn't normally how my clients and I did business. There was normally no kissing involved, but soon my mouth began moving against his and it turned from a sweet lullaby to a raging passionate war. Before I knew it I was on top of him, in his bed, unbuttoning his collared shirt, while he was working on removing my big overcoat. After a lot of struggling, we somehow managed to get all our clothes off and he began kissing me all over; my face, my neck, my chest and so on. He trailed my body with the tiniest kisses and nibbles. I felt my body light on fire the moment his hands touched me. His tongue pleasured me in ways no other man had bothered to do. My job was to pleasure him, not the other way around. Yet this man below me was doing the exact thing I wasn't paid for. I suppose it was just the beginning and eventually he'd get tired and expect me to do the rest. Even when he entered me, he did slowly and carefully. Making sure I wasn't hurt in the process. Sweat dripped down our a hot bodies from the intensity of our intimacy. We worked hard, pleasing each other, to a point where I was so exhausted I could have fallen asleep standing up. Instead I found myself falling asleep in his arms, under his covers, in his bed, in his house.

It was at that moment, as my head hit the soft pillow, I knew we didn't have sex, but we had made love and I'd honestly never done that in my entire life.

But what do you expect from a girl who's paid to get fucked by bastards.

What do you expect from a girl that is nothing but a low-life prostitute?


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