His Personal Call Girl – The Complete Series

Fresh out of college and working minimum wage, Catherine is desperate to earn some cash. Enter Tom, an enigmatic young man with money to burn. Tom offers Catherine a deal: Become his personal prostitute and he'll pay her a fortune. Cat likes sex and she likes Tom's money, but what would her boyfriend think? Can she go through with this arrangement? Can she submit to Tom's passionate lusts? And just how well does she know her boyfriend anyway? This box set collects all four volumes of “His Personal Call Girl,” complete and unabridged.

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

We got into my parents' house at about two in the afternoon. It was overcast and the few shafts of sunlight sunk into the parlor like they were looking for us. Tom parked his motorcycle on the street and I took him up the front walk.

As soon as the door was closed behind him he set his bag down by the staircase and looked at me.

“Are you ready?” he said.

I was still in my gym clothes: bright orange T, black sports bra underneath, skin tight black yoga pants, and sneakers. My hair was a mess, especially after the motorcycle and his helmet, and I was sweaty. “I'm just going to take a shower. You can grab a drink or…”

He shook his head. “I want you like this.”

“What?”

“I'll ask you once more and then that's it.” He watched me, with those eyes of his, always watching. It was different from being checked out, different from the loving way Bobby looked at me. Tom was taking me in, everything. Measuring me.

My heart started to thud in my chest even harder. The whole way here I'd gone back and forth thinking this wasn't a big deal, that it was a big deal. I hadn't even asked if he'd brought condoms. He wanted me now? Like this?

“Where?” I said.

He surveyed the room. “Here. Are your parents coming home?”

“Not for a few hours.” I swallowed. “Do you have condoms?”

He nodded.

“Let me see them.”

He pulled a packet of them from his gym bag.

I drew my fingers over my temples and swept my hair back from my cheeks and forehead. “I smell like sweat,” I said.

“You smell like you.”

“Okay, whatever.” He waited. Finally I blinked hard and threw up my hands. “Okay, yes, yes, what do I — what do you want me to do?”

He breathed deeply. He seemed so absolutely calm. I was bewildered. I was scared. My body was buzzing, not because of him but because it knew what might be coming, and his motorcycle had just set me to active. Tom glanced at the table and the mirror and the drawer inside. “Is there a hairbrush in the drawer?”

“Yes,” I said.

He stepped forward. He came forward, to me, until he was right up against me. He looked down at me, into my eyes, and the skin of my forehead. He reached his fingers to me and drew them through my hair. “That was the last time I asked. I won't ask again. If you want to stop you have to tell me no.”

“Okay,” I said. I wasn't sure if I could breathe.

He stepped back. “I want you to take your clothes off. I want you to go over to the table and I want you to brush your hair.”

I reached down and pulled off my socks.

I hesitated when I crossed my arms but then I had the shirt off. I was now just in my sports bra and my yoga pants. The last person to see me naked was Allison. The last person who I'd slept with was Bobby. And Tom was watching me. He'd paid me, so I hooked my fingers into my waistband and pulled them down.

I was in my g-string and my sports bra, and I could see that Tom liked it.