Cavalier Read Online T.L. Smith (Crimson Elite #1)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Crimson Elite Series by T.L. Smith
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Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
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“No.”

“You aren’t going to tell me much, are you?”

“No.”

She releases a deep breath just as one of our customers comes up for service. Her eyes go wide when she realizes who it is. She looks to me, but I do nothing as I watch her shocked expression. She better get used to it, all our customers are high-profile, and all earn at least seven figures. They need to, to be able to afford to come here. When he walks off, she treads back to where I am, and I try to not watch the way her hips sway when she does. The excitement in her eyes is evident, as she leans across the counter to me with a smile so big I wonder how I can put it there more often.

“I watch his show every day. He’s one of the highest paid television stars right now.” She looks past me to where he left.

“Follow me.” She exits the bar as I walk to where our best paying customers are situated. They don’t get ultimate exclusivity from our other customers, but they get some perks. She keeps walking but I stop her with my hand. I nod to her, and she takes a deep breath. I don’t bother watching the customers, I’m more interested in her reactions.

“Him…” she points. I turn to see a popular celebrity fucking one of our girls, her hands hog-tied to the bed as he takes her from behind. He’s fucking her in the ass and has a dildo in her. I watch Elicea as her breaths become laboured and heavier. She’s turned on.

“All our customers are celebrities, or wealthy people, some are politicians. Your discretion is a must. You do not use their names, you only address them as sir.” She looks back to me, her eyes somehow darker than last night.

“I would never—” Just then Darby’s hand lays on my shoulder.

“You must be Elicea. Creed said he stole your services.”

She straightens up, turning her back to the client. Her crystal blue eyes find mine, then they skim back to Darby. “He did, and I’m very thankful. I really am enjoying it here.”

Darby taps my shoulder, looks around then back to me. “I’m sure Creed is making you feel very welcome, but if you need anything at all come to me.” He nods his head then walks away. Her eyes track him until he’s gone then she looks to me.

“Are you all good-looking?”

My lip twitches at her words. “You like him?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “He seems nice enough,” she murmurs watching where he disappeared. Darby isn’t nice. But I’m not going to tell her that. Walking back to the bar, I resist the urge to touch her, or ask her if she’d like to be fucked just as the girl was getting fucked.

“I don’t know him, just like him. I don’t know you, either.” Then she walks away again, serving another customer. I step off as she finishes, knowing I should before I pull her over that bar and take her to one of our private rooms.

6

Elicea

Two full nights at Crimson Elite and I’m exhausted, it doesn’t stop. Not even when he sits at the bar and makes me nervous with his stare—his stare and his very few words. Or it could be all the sexual tension we refuse to acknowledge. The girls talk highly of him like he’s some kind of god. I watched him last night, as he comforted a girl who was crying. It was interesting to watch the effect he has on them. He only needed to tell her everything would be all right and she believed him, but not once did he touch her. He saw me watching, and his eyes didn’t leave mine, so I looked away first.

“Girl, tell me about it while we get dressed.” Clothes are thrown at me, pulling me from my thoughts. Tracey’s dressed in a tight lilac ensemble. Looking down at my white lace shift, I pull it down, so it skims the top of my thighs.

“I’m tired. No, I’m exhausted,” I say sitting down on my couch where I was before she came in.

“Alcohol will help with that. Trust me.”

“I beg to differ. I think it’ll knock me out faster.”

“Tequila never fails.” She shakes a bottle of tequila in my face, opening it then taking a swig.

“How long do I have to finish getting dressed?” She looks to her fake clock—no watch on her wrist and smiles.

“Ten minutes. Move it.” Standing, she takes the seat I was just in, as I walk into my room. “Tell me, is it a whorehouse?” She laughs, but I freeze at her words. I wouldn’t class it as such, but it’s a high-profile escort club for sure. “El?” she calls out. I’m thankful she can’t see my face right now.


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