Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Ella Edwards is living every 'naughty' girl's dream - sun, sea, and a week-long passion fest in a millionaire’s villa on the French Riviera.
Thanks to The Agency, Ella’s made a name (and a fortune) fulfilling filthy fantasies. But this week isn’t just another proposal. It’s a full-blown seven-day escape with her drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend Josh… and their most infamous, and most utterly irresistible client, Heath Mason.
Yes, that Heath Mason, the brooding mega TV star from Nighttime Whispers.
The deal is simple - one filthy hot proposal a day. No rules. No safe words. No strings.
Until feelings get involved.
Until secrets threaten to ruin it all.
Until Ella finds herself torn between the job, the fantasy, and something that’s starting to feel dangerously close to love.
Author’s This scorching-hot tale is absolutely not just about cocktails by the pool. This is one wild holiday of power games, possessive men, and pleasure in every position. You’ve been warned. Welcome to The Naughty Week.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER ONE
I have no idea how I managed to pack so much for a week in Cannes, considering that the bulk of my luggage is nothing more than fancy underwear and flipflops. I haven’t even packed any toys, since Heath assured us he’s already stocked up to the max. No metal butt plugs to be worried about showing up on the airport scanners at least.
Not that I’d be all that embarrassed if they did.
My days of reservations and hangups are long behind me. Sex is an open book for me now. It’s my favourite hobby, not just my career, and I’m happy to admit it to virtually anyone – even airport security if it came to it. Having especially filthy fun while I’m earning heaps of cash as an entertainer is nothing but a massive cherry on top.
I’m exceptionally lucky that I’ll be having two very luscious cherries on top of me this week, and one of them is awaiting us at his swanky villa right now.
The other cherry is right here, beside me.
Josh, my stunner of a boyfriend, hoists our hand luggage into the compartments over our heads. His t-shirt has ridden up just enough to see the V of his hips and the dark promise of hair down his stomach. He gets more ripped by the week, I swear it. His six pack will have a six pack at this rate.
“Excited?” he asks, once he’s buckled up in the seat beside me.
“You could say that, yeah. Just a teensy bit. Who wouldn’t love a trip to Cannes? Sun, sea, sex… and a host to die for. It’s going to be amazing.”
Josh nudges my foot with his. “Keep it down,” he says and I have to laugh. Our client confidentiality comes at all costs given we’re high-class Agency performers, but seriously, I’m hardly going to scream that we’re off for a week of hardcore paid sex with one of the hottest TV stars on the planet, am I?
As much as I’d like to.
I look around the cabin, at the people going about their business, flying away on holiday, just like we are. None of them have any idea we’re being paid a token grand each for the honour of a week-long filth fest with the famous Heath Mason from Nighttime Whispers.
I’d love to scream it over the tannoy. I’d jump up and down as I shared the news that I’ll be getting Heath’s dick for seven days straight and enjoying the French Riviera as a bonus.
“Oh, and did you know, folks? He’s even got a Jacob’s ladder!”
I grin to myself. A whole load of people on this flight will be fans of the show, just like me. They’d probably give us a round of applause for getting the chance at seven full days with Heath. I remember when he was just a TV idol to me, before Josh took me on a joint proposal that practically knocked me off my feet. How he ever kept it a secret that the man we watched onscreen together was a client of his is commendable. Such a professional.
And we’ll both be professionals this week. That’s what comes first.
This isn’t just a holiday. It’s a work trip. We are going to Cannes to please Heath, first and foremost. His wish is our command, literally.
I have to remember that. The lines can’t afford to get blurry – not in this industry, and Heath Mason is particularly guarded. His walls of anonymity are sky high in comparison to my tumbling lows.
Heath has no pseudonym, like I do. He’s the famous Heath Mason, instantly recognisable from a mile away, but I’m Holly the whore when I’m working, and sweet Ella Edwards when I’m not.
My ex, Connor never revealed the real identity of the hooker love of his life who broke his soul. How considerate of him.
Yeah, right.
Connor is the most selfish prick I know. He only kept my identity a secret because he knew I’d call his lies out as utter bullshit. Cheating asshole.
I love flying. I’m transfixed when the plane rumbles down the runway and begins our ascent into the sky. I’ve got the window seat and watch as the UK disappears underneath us. Here we go. Up, up and away.
I’m so caught up with the view that it takes me a minute to register just how intently Josh is staring at me.
“What?” I ask him, and he leans over to give me a kiss on the temple.
“Nothing. Just admiring my gothic goddess.”
I’m hardly at my gothic height today in a black cami dress and simple black sandals, but I have still got my regular catflicks and scarlet red lipstick on.
“I’m not the only goth you’ll be admiring today, my sweet prince,” I reply, and Josh gives my foot another nudge with his. The tension in his brows makes me giggle.