Mile-High Mistress Read online

  Mile-High Mistress

  Jenesi Ash

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  What is the difference between a mistress and a prostitute? I thought I knew the answer when I agreed to be a kept woman. In my opinion, the biggest difference is the fringe benefits.

  A hooker has the dangerous job. The work environment sucks and the pay isn’t that great. There is little career advancement and the clients don’t give bonuses like diamonds.

  As a mistress to a millionaire, I am living on easy street instead of working on the corner of it. I have an elegant condo in a Seattle suburb, my jewelry box is filled with diamonds from Tiffany’s, and I wear only the best designers.

  But as I look down at my outfit straight off the New York runway, I have to wonder if some of the couturiers find their inspiration in cheap hookers.

  I’m wearing the tackiest dress I own. Leon bought it for me month ago. He got an instant hard-on when he saw me in it, probably because it exaggerates the size of my boobs and ass. All I need now are a pair of vinyl thigh-high boots and I’ll fit right in with the hookers downtown.

  I don’t know why Leon is asking me to try on this outfit when we have a plane to catch. He’s never played dress up with me before, always being more interested in getting me naked. Why is he starting this now?

  “Don’t you have anything shorter, Amaris?” Leon asks, looking at his wristwatch before thrusting his hands into his blonde hair. “Let me see what you have in there.”

  I try to block him. Leon might have bought this condo for me but the closet is one place he hasn’t entered. I prefer to keep it that way.

  Unlike hookers, who have to flaunt what they have, a mistress is more of an illusionist. My job is creating a fantasy for Leon. The closet is a lot like my purse and my vanity table. They hold my secrets.

  But Leon isn’t going to be denied and strides right into my closet. The size and abundance of clothes doesn’t faze him. It makes me wonder if his wife’s closet is much bigger.

  I push away that thought. I don’t care what his wife has. I have no interest in becoming the next Mrs. Leon Richmond. I’m content with what I have until I find a wealthier lover.

  I watch Leon rifle through my designer dresses. He pauses as he studies a baby-doll shirt then impatiently yanks it off the hanger. “Here,” he says as he tosses it to me. “Wear this.”

  I stare at him in shock. He can’t be serious! “This isn’t a dress. It’s a shirt.”

  That doesn’t bother him. “Put it on.”

  I hesitate until I remind myself that it’s my job to please him. If he wants me parading in public half-dressed, I’ll do it, but I better be compensated for it. Clenching my teeth together to prevent from talking back, I kick off my shoes and shimmy out of the cheap, tight dress.

  I slow down my movements and arch my spine. Turning away from him, I thrust my ass out as I peel the dress from my thighs and roll it above my hips.

  From the reflection of the mirror, I see Leon sitting down on the sofa to watch me strip. Yes, my closet is big enough to hold furniture. Its size is one of the reasons I love this condo. It didn’t matter if I would be the only one who would see it—it fulfilled a dream I had when I was young and only had a few clothes from charity.

  I give a deep roll of my hips, enjoying the smooth, sensual pull of muscles. Glancing in Leon’s direction, I see the color rise in his face. I love being able to turn him on this quickly.

  Looking away, my gaze falls on the red shirt I’m supposed to wear. I remember being a teen when my only possessions were a couple pairs of jeans and handful of shirts. I’ve come a long way. My closet is now stuffed with clothes that I still haven’t worn. All of them designer, some of them one of a kind. Never again will I have to worry about walking into a room and discovering that I’m wearing someone’s cast-off.

  I tug the tacky dress over my head and throw it in the corner. I turn and stand before Leon. I should feel vulnerable wearing only a champagne-colored bra and panties, but instead I feel wicked and in control. I know that Leon can’t get enough of my body. I’m his weakness and I use it to my advantage.

  Leon’s nostrils are flared as his chest rises and falls. He’s getting aroused and if I work it just right, he’ll throw me onto the floor and sink into me within the next few minutes.

  I like having this kind of power over him. He may be rich and influential, but if I want to, I can bring him to his knees. Having this kind of hold over Leon can be addictive, but I have to be careful because Leon is under the carefully constructed illusion that he’s the one in total control.

  “Take off the bra,” he tells me hoarsely.

  I decide to obey, reaching behind me to unhook the bra. It might look like nothing more than a strip of lace, but it is a masterpiece of engineering. Without it, my breasts are going to jiggle and bounce all day.

  I toss the bra onto the floor and slide on the ruby red shirt. It has long sleeves and the scooped neckline is high. The princess waistline, however, is right underneath my boobs. The design makes my bust appear larger.

  The main problem is going to be the hemline. It barely reaches the top of my thighs.

  “Perfect,” Leon says in a growl.

  Perfect? Leon might be sexy and sophisticated, and he’s very stylish, but his taste in women’s clothing is way off. Can’t he tell that I won’t be able to bend down, slide out of the car or sit down without showing off my panties?

  “And put on these shoes.” He reaches to the top shelf of my shoe rack and retrieves the dark red platform heels. I bought them because of the designer. They look like a foot fetishist’s wet dream, but they hurt like hell.

  “Those are difficult to walk in,” I warn him.

  Leon could care less. “Then take little steps.”

  “Is there a reason why you’re so interested in my appearance today?” I ask as I sit in an overstuffed chair and put on the shoes.

  Leon shrugged. “We’re going to a convention in Vegas where image is everything.”

  “I’m not going to the convention, am I?” I ask as I struggle with the tiny shoe straps. Should I mention that I have big plans that consist of shopping and lounging by the pool?

  “You won’t be at the convention, but one of my business friends will be traveling with us. It’s your job to be nice to him.”

  I look up abruptly. “How nice?” Is he going to pimp me out? No, he wouldn’t. He pays a high price for me because I am his exclusively.

  Leon pauses. “I want Channing to desire you.”

  Oh, I could do that easily. I like turning men on. It’s fun and I’m good at it. But what’s in it for me? “Why do you want him to do that?”

  “That’s not your concern,” he answers harshly. “Can you handle the job?”

  “Yeah. I can do it.” I’m almost offended that Leon has to ask.

  And now I know why his wife hadn’t been invited on the trip. An executive wife is supposed to be respected and scandal-free. The mistress, however, is supposed to be drooled on.

  I finish buckling the shoes and carefully stand up. The shoes are too high. I wobble and the only way I can stand straight is if I tilt my pelvis out.

  “Walk to me.”

  My hips roll as I walk and I feel my ass swaying from side to side. Each step seems exaggerated and aggressive as I approach him.

  I see the satisfaction on Leon’s face. I preen, expecting him to compliment my appearance.

  “Take off your panties,” he orders.

  My eyes widen. “Say what?”

  He reclines on the sofa and folds his arms across his chest. “You heard me.”

  I gesture at the indecently short hemline. “But then…”

  “Exactly.” The c
orner of his mouth tilts up. “Today, I want everyone to see your pussy.”

  White heat floods my body as my imagination goes into overdrive. I want to sit in front of a group of men and spread my legs apart…. The folds of my sex swell. I close my eyes and swallow back a moan…I want to show off my body and be someone’s fantasy.

  But I stand still, unable to remove my panties, because there is always the flip side to being the center of attention. Some men feel it’s necessary to entertain me with boring stories of their lives and lame attempts at humor. It amazes me how many men think they have a chance with me.

  And it gets worse if there are women around. I have found that women can be a vindictive breed. I can get used to being hated and shunned, and I love being envied, but walking around wearing nothing but a shirt and heels is asking for trouble.

  Leon reaches out and snags my panties with his fingers. He drags the satin down my bare legs, his hands brushing along my skin. I shiver, wishing his casual touch didn’t affect me like this. I grab his shoulders as I step out of my panties.

  He looks up and I know he wants me. I meet his gaze as the need swirls around us, urgent and sizzling. Leon might have a couple of decades on me, but he can get hot and ready within seconds.

  I slowly lift my leg and put my foot on the couch seat. I stand before Leon, waiting for him to lean forward and take my pussy in his mouth.

  Instead, Leon wraps his hand around my ankle and slowly slides his hand up the length of my leg. As he reaches my thigh, I’m practically panting. He rubs small circles along my leg, moving closer and closer to my wet pussy.

  His fingertips brush against my naked mound. I press my lips together before I make a demand. I want his mouth on me, but I’ll take whatever he has to offer for now.

  He slides his fingers against my slick, puffy flesh. I buck my hips against his hand just as he dips his finger into my core. My pussy clenches and surrounds him, drawing him in deeper.

  Leon plays with my clit with his other hand. I close my eyes as the hot pleasure zings through me. His touch is teasing and light, his fingers thrusting shallow in my pussy. I rock against his hand, but I can’t deepen his touch.

  “More,” I whisper.

  His fingers still against my swollen clit. “What did you say?”

  I buck against his hand, wanting him to press hard against my clitoris until I explode. “I want more.”

  Suddenly my world goes topsy-turvy. I gasp and open my eyes as I fall against his lap. My head is close to the floor as my ass is turned up toward the ceiling. My feet dangle uselessly as I kick and flail to get back up.

  Leon’s hand spreads against my ass. His fingers span my smooth skin. He lifts his hand and then I hear the rush of air before he swats my ass.

  The spank echoes in my closet. I shriek and try to cover my ass with my hands. I don’t know if it is to prevent another spank or to smooth the radiating sting, but Leon pushes my hands away.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I yell. I immediately regret my tone. I never yell at Leon, and my slipup will obviously show him that I’m unsettled.

  “You need to learn patience,” Leon declares as he gives me another smack on my ass.

  I hiss in my breath. My skin is stinging, but I’m really pissed off by this humiliating position. Leon has given me a playful pat and spank when having sex, but this is different.

  Worse, I’m getting a little turned on. The burn is mingling with my arousal; it’s like nothing I’ve felt before. If Leon figures out that I’m actually enjoying this, I’m never going to live it down.

  “You need to learn that I make the demands,” Leon continues as he gives me another spank. It isn’t as hard, but it’s too close to my pussy. I squirm and wrestle on his lap, but Leon’s hold is tight.

  He gives me a series of harsh slaps. I grit my teeth, but I can’t stop wiggling. Leon is obviously enjoying having total control and if I’m smart, I’ll let him have this moment.

  “You need to be on your best behavior in Vegas,” he tells me as his hand hovers above my burning skin. I can feel the heat sizzle between his palm and my ass. “You do exactly as I say.”

  I glare at the floor that is inches away from my face.

  He gives me another stinging blow, right against my pussy. I arch back, gasping as the burn goes straight to my core. Oh, God, that was almost as good as when he drives his cock in me. In some ways, it’s even better.

  I wiggle my hips, trying to ease the intense sensations. I can’t believe I’m thinking this, but I want one more spank. Right against my pussy. I know if he angles his hand just right, Leon could make me come. It will be hard and wild.

  But there would be no hiding my response. Do I really want him to know that I find satisfaction in being bent over his knee and spanked?

  “Amaris?” he asks me with a hint of warning.

  I lick my lips and close my eyes, deciding not to answer. My stomach tightens as Leon’s hand lifts. He raises his arm higher and higher. My pussy tingles. I wiggle my ass, knowing this strike is going to be good.

  I feel the air crackle before his hand lands on me. The flat of his palm smacks across my wet, swollen pussy. It echoes in my ears as I cry out. I come violently as the intense burn travels through my body.

  “Yes-s-s,” I agree, my voice weak as the forceful wave of pleasure crashes through me. My body jerks as I ride it out, grinding my clit against Leon’s leg.

  Leon cups his hand over my buttocks. The gentle touch is too much for my redden skin. He gives me a small squeeze as another shudder sweeps through me.

  “Good girl,” he murmurs as he squeezes my ass.

  I can’t believe he’s calling me that. I try to catch my breath as his words ring in my ear. If he thinks that a spanking is going to give him all the control, he has another thought coming.

  I’m in Leon’s limousine heading toward the airport. I feel the chauffeur’s eyes on me and I do my best to ignore him. I know the driver is just waiting for me to rip my clothes off and have sex with Leon in the backseat. Just because I did that once while the chauffeur watched in the rearview mirror doesn’t mean I’m going to give a repeat performance.

  My ass still stings and I gingerly cross my legs, but that only reminds me how little I’m wearing. I’m glad I tossed on my black satin raincoat before leaving my condo because my ass is completely exposed when I’m sitting down. I don’t know how I’m going to manage two and a half hours on a plane wearing nothing but a shirt.

  But that’s not my main concern right now. I know we’re close to our destination because planes are flying low in the air. My stomach does a nervous flip, but I try to appear cool and serene, as if there is nothing exciting about taking a trip to Vegas on a private plane.

  Beside me, Leon flips his phone closed. He opens his briefcase and pulls out a small black electronic device. It has touch buttons and a small screen. It looks solid and kind of bulky in his hands.

  “This is the prototype we’re going to unveil at the convention,” Leon tells me, his voice vibrating with excitement.

  I have no idea what the prototype does. To be honest, I’m a little hazy on what Leon’s company produces. I know it has something to do with computers and electronics. Or maybe it’s about videos. I have a tendency to tune out when he starts talking technical.

  “Look at how small it is,” he says with a touch of pride.

  I nod, but I wonder what it is about men. Guys want big houses and vast empires, but when it comes to electronics smaller is better. I don’t understand it.

  “It’s not that small,” I say, noticing how Leon’s fingers stretch to accommodate the size of the device. “It won’t fit into someone’s pocket.”

  Leon frowns and I realize I made a mistake. I’m usually careful in giving my opinion and I don’t know what came over me. I guess my nerves are to blame. Any other time and I would have picked up on the clues and rhapsodized about how teeny it is.

  “Scorpion II will be pocket-sized,”
Leon said.

  I press my lips together and try not to smile. Scorpion must be the name of the project. Only a guy would come up with an intimidating name for a little black box.

  “Why don’t you unveil it when it’s pocket-sized?” I ask.

  Leon shakes his head as if I have said the dumbest thing. “With technology, you have to be first in the marketplace and then you fix the problems.”

  Oh, yeah, that makes so much more sense. I roll my eyes and look out the window to watch another plane take off into the air. My stomach gives another queasy flip and I return my attention to the Scorpion.

  Leon strokes the smooth lines of the prototype with his fingertips. My pussy clenches as I watch his hands. Leon touches me just like that. As if he created me. Owns me. I shift in my seat and wince.

  “The only way I got to the head of the pack is because I have Channing in my corner,” he says quietly, almost to himself.

  That’s the second time he’s mentioned the guy. I’ve never heard of him before, but there’s an unfamiliar tone in Leon’s voice. It isn’t admiration or intimidation. He’s uneasy. “Do you trust him?” I ask.

  “No.” His spine stiffens as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

  “Then why are you working with him?” I ask.

  Leon shakes his head and returns the prototype to his briefcase. “Amaris, you have no head for business.” He snaps the case shut, as if punctuating that the topic is closed.

  No head for business? I grit my teeth before I say that out loud. Leon doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I am a very successful mistress because I approach the job like a professional.

  Leon would probably be surprised that I want a long career as a mistress. I even have a business plan. I’m sure he thinks I fell into this arrangement because I can’t get enough of him. Or he thinks I can’t believe my good fortune to land him so I’ll do anything to keep him happy.

  Part of that is true. I like sex, probably more than I should. But it isn’t luck that brought me to Leon. It was my strategy based on preparation, timing and audacity. I don’t want him to know that he’s the first rung in the ladder to my ultimate goal of becoming the most desired mistress in Seattle.