Selling Out Read Online Free PDF Page A

face of a girl, her face contorted in
fury. The grin of a man. Hands holding down arms. The low sound of laughter. A
little slice of hell, and what was I supposed to do about it?
    I could do nothing.
    This wasn’t a young girl on an empty street corner who could
be cured with a fast-food burger and a lifetime of therapy. This was one of
Henri’s girls, off-limits for me and mother-fucking-hen Marguerite Faust. No
one could help her, just like no one could help me.
    I saw her body jerk with purpose. Heard the crack as her
kick landed on someone’s skin. The laughter grew louder, more combative.
    Shit. She was going to get herself killed that way. Beaten,
at the least. Didn’t she know that? Didn’t she care?
    But Henri didn’t do hand-holding. Had he recruited this girl
fresh out of high school? Given her money she desperately needed to get away,
to help her friend, only to indebt herself to him forever? Dumped her at this
party without any training or knowledge or a goddamned thing?
    This wasn’t about me. I told myself that, but it didn’t
help.
    I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Four guys, not
counting the ones out in the sitting area or my erstwhile boyfriend.
    I smiled and set my hips to sway. “Hello, gentlemen. I see
you’ve started the party without me.”
    Three of them shifted their attention to me, though one kept
struggling with the girl. And she kept fighting, clearly too panicked or just
stubborn to let me take the lead.
    The one with an earring in his eyebrow grinned and patted
his knee. “There’s always room for one more girl.”
    I trailed my finger across his jaw as I passed him. “Always,
honey, but not before the big show.”
    “The show?” another one asked, his voice breaking. Jesus,
younger and younger.
    “Didn’t you know about that?” I paused in my contemplative
pose, often applied to men who liked to kneel, to pretend submissiveness while
I spanked their behinds—at least until they turned the tables. “I wouldn’t want
you to be late.”
    I stopped by the bed, where both the girl and the guy half
sitting on her were watching me with bemusement. They actually made a cute
couple if I ignored the whole sordid violence routine. It was always the
handsome ones.
    With a wink for the good-looking asshole, I leaned over the
girl and skimmed a finger up the middle of her belly and between her breasts,
hoping it would cause her the least discomfort. Then I kissed her, soft,
gently, for show, not pleasure. Never that.
    The tension prickled at my skin as the men in the room held
their breath. Without asking, the man eased up on her, more interested in
seeing where this would lead than expressing his dominance.
    I frowned slightly, a little slow on the uptake. “We had it
all planned out. Practiced it just to show you. But I guess if you’ve already
started, we don’t have to do it.” I straightened and tugged at my dress, all
businesslike. “We can just get it over with, if you want.”
    Before my words were even out, the girl was released and
practically thrown at me. They wanted to see it, they assured me. Please , they asked so nicely. Yes, absolutely, whatever you wish. I’m at
your command, but give us a moment, just a moment . The men obediently
trooped out to the sitting area, almost tripping over each other to nab a good
seat for the nonexistent show.
    The girl yanked her shirt on, still shaking. “Who the hell
are you?”
    My eyebrows rose. “Your fairy godmother. Who do you think?”
    “I think you’re just a dirty prostitute. Like the other girl
out there.”
    Her voice caught, but the unspoken words hovered in the air. Like me.
    I softened my tone. “Look, hon. It won’t be that bad. I’ll
take the rough ones for myself, and—”
    “Fuck you. I’m not doing that.” Her words were angry, but
fear radiated from her.
    This night was going from bad to worse. A sigh escaped me.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
    “Go to hell!”
    I took in her wide