My Roommate's Dad: A Forbidden Romance (Forbidden Fantasies Book 15) Read online

  My Roommate’s Dad

  A Forbidden Romance

  S.E. Law

  Copyright © 2020 by S.E. Law

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Also by S.E. Law

  Forbidden Fantasies

  My Fiance’s Dad

  Trailer Park Daddy

  While He Watches

  Her Secret Baby

  The Clients

  Hunger

  My Dad’s Best Friend

  My Best Friend’s Dad

  Trapped By My Boss

  Pregnant By The Doctor

  Pregnant By The Alpha

  Making His Baby

  First Time Escort

  First Time Menage

  My Roommate’s Dad

  Filthy Twin Cowboys

  Filthy Twin Cops

  The CEO’s Baby

  The Soldier’s Baby

  Filthy Twin Stepbrothers

  Sweet Treats

  His Candy Cane

  Her Juicy Cherry

  Her Honey Pot

  Second Helpings

  Sugar Walls

  Please and Tease

  Forbidden Fruit

  Band of Brothers

  Her Italian Wedding

  Double XL

  The Boyfriend Diaries

  Mommy’s Ex

  Mommy’s Boss

  Mommy’s Landlord

  Daddy’s Christmas Gift

  Daddy’s Holiday Baby

  Daddy’s Love Child

  Made for Them

  Built For Them

  Sugar and Spice

  The Naughty Party

  Blackmail Fantasies

  Blackmailing My Dad’s Best Friend

  Blackmailed By My Dad’s Boss

  Blackmailed In The Boudoir

  Blackmailed By My Teacher

  Irresistible Bachelors

  Sweet as Candy

  Must Be Love

  Meant To Be

  Standalones

  You’re Mine

  Boss of My Panties

  Naughty Relations

  About My Daddies

  About Last Night

  About This Morning

  About That Evening

  Playing with Them

  Playing with the Doctors

  Playing with the Criminals

  Playing with her Priests

  Healing Hands

  Dr. Feelgood

  Dr. Man Candy

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  Contents

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek: First Time Escort

  Sneak Peek: Pregnant By The Doctor

  About the Author

  About This Book

  Rose: I never meant to become an escort. It was just a way to pay for school so that I could get that much-needed degree. But unfortunately, I couldn’t find a decent job after graduation, so I turned back to what I know best: making men happy.

  Damon: I don’t judge anyone, and certainly not my daughter’s curvy, sassy best friend. Rose is just doing what she needs to do to survive in this crazy place called New York City. But now the feisty girl’s come to me because she wants to start a new dating business and needs money for the project. But I’m going to say no … unless she gives me a taste of the goods for sale.

  This book is a special follow-up to First Time Escort! In this tale, we meet Rose again, who originally introduced her friend Lucy to the scandalous world of high-end escorting. But Rose is different – she’s a sassy, feisty girl who’s not afraid to use her curves to get what she wants, and her best friend’s dad is absolutely MESMERIZED. Let go, relax, and get ready for the ride of your life because this story sizzles! No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always a HEA for my readers.

  1

  Rose

  I stroll across the dimly lit patio and key into my one-bedroom apartment. I hang my black fur coat (faux) on the hook, stopping to run my fingers over the chipped green paint on the door. Hopefully, my landlord gets around to repainting this one day; I’ve only asked him three times now.

  Continuing inside, I squeeze my tummy up and in as I slide between the side table and the lamp, shimmying the rest of the way through to get to the couch. I think to myself, as I do most nights, that I should get rid of some of this furniture because it just doesn’t fit in the room. But I love my things and I was so proud to finally be able to afford my living room set. It would break my heart to have to give pieces of it away.

  But I’m feeling exhausted tonight, both physically and mentally. I let out a loud sigh as I collapse onto the plush cushions of my beloved couch. It’s a deep mossy velvet, and I run my hand over the fabric, luxuriating in its soft feel. But what am I doing? There’s no time to be lost. I pull up the time log on my phone and check myself out, indicating I’ve returned home safely. I’ve just logged another date in the books. I’ve been taking more and more lately, and it’s starting to wear on me.

  After all, I work as a high-end escort, and my rendezvous tonight was with a man named Mitchell. He was kind enough. I could tell he was really blown away by my curves, so much that he stuttered a bit. It’s flattering of course, but it doesn’t make things any less awkward.

  But Mitchell’s just not my type. He was dorky and rather unsure of himself, not to mention the spare tire around his tummy and the double chin hanging over his collar. Not only that, but he was sweating profusely throughout the entire date. I felt bad for him, but at the same time it was just so disgusting! I couldn’t look away. I wanted so badly to hand him a handkerchief so he could blot the beads of sweat away from his neck and forehead, but I figured it would only embarrass him, so I just smiled.

  But that’s what you get when you’re in my line of work. Men pay astronomical amounts of money to take beautiful women out for dinner and drinks. My agency, City Girls, tells us to flirt and act interested. Our job is essentially to provide the client with enjoyable female company where they don’t have to do any of the work of courting a woman. We charm them, boost their ego a bit, and then send them home. Most of the time, that is. Every once in a while, I deem one worth granting the ultimate sale - sampling the goods, so to speak.

  But providing that extra isn’t a requirement. Some girls choose to do it every time for the money, while others have vowed to never stoop to it. Personally, I take it on a case by case basis. If the client is handsome and kind, namely someone I wouldn’t mind having sex with under normal circumstances, I’ll take the plunge.

  Unfortunately, Mitchell did not meet those requirements. But that didn’t stop him from inquiring. They always do. They assume an escort is an easier catch than the average woman. It’s understandable, but I turned him down of course. After all, not only was he a physical putz, but we didn’t connect at all. If it had been a real date, he would never have had the
nerve to even ask. Of course, he looked upset when I told him no. The humiliation of the ultimate rejection, being turned away by an escort, was written all over his face, and I swear I saw his chin tremble and tears spring to his eyes. But I wasn’t all that moved by his pity party to be honest. It was another dreadful night out for me and all I wanted was to make an exit and get back to my tiny New York City apartment.

  I kick my red heels in the general direction of the door and reach for the corked bottle of wine hidden beneath the couch. Yanking the stopper out, I take a large slurp directly from the bottle. Very classy. Then, I fall back onto the sofa again, letting out another heavy sigh.

  I take a look around at my tiny living space, which come to think of it, is a metaphor for my life currently. City Girls has been great for me the last four years. It has been a source of regular, dependable income, but life has narrowed to nothing but paid dates. I haven’t been on a real date in years now.

  But I had to do it. I come from a working-class family and my parents couldn’t afford to support me through college, so I took up escorting. It was just supposed to be a one-time thing to get me through a financial crunch, but then it turned into two dates, three dates, and soon, I was spending almost all of my time seeing men. City Girls paid for my tuition at NYU, which is an expensive private school. And when my history degree failed to get me a job after graduation, it continued to support me.

  It’s sad that it’s come to this. Lots of people say they can’t find jobs in their areas of expertise, but they don’t end up being escorts. It’s just my job search flopped really badly. I love history, and I wanted to spend my life researching, writing, and ultimately informing and inspiring others through the lessons of our past. Unfortunately, it turns out nobody wants to pay someone to do those things. At least not a living wage. They seem to think that tiny stipends would be enough, so long as you supplemented it with Medicaid and food stamps. I’m not too proud to use our country’s safety net, but I’d prefer not to if at all possible.

  I looked for jobs outside of my field too. The best I could secure was a barista job at the local Java Jive, and it felt really sad. I just couldn’t bring myself to be a college graduate pouring lattes for businessmen and lady power lawyers whose life dreams have already come true while mine wait on the back burner.

  I’ve been thinking about it more and more lately though. Being an escort is getting harder for me, and wearing me down. It’s not the physical part because I don’t provide those services very often. It’s just emotionally draining to put a smile on my face and to pretend for hours and hours each night. I feel like a shell of a person when I come home, like I’ve just masqueraded as someone else for money.

  Plus, the “dates” don’t respect me or care about who I am as a person. Their main objective is to negotiate a price for my body, and there’s no other way to look at it. This fact alone has taken a mental and physical toll on me over the years.

  I also hate the fact that I basically have no love life. I’m 25 and single in New York City. I should be dating up a storm with lots of eligible men. But it’s hard to find time for real relationships when I am booked on client gigs every night. Besides, what guy would actually want to date an escort? I can’t imagine any man being okay with sharing his woman, even if it’s just for dinner and drinks.

  The final kicker is that while the pay is good, it isn’t great. I make enough to live on, but I need more. I don’t want to live in a tiny apartment on a restricted budget forever. I want to be able to buy an apartment, and not rent for my whole life. I want to be able to afford a child one day, but right now, that’s way out of the question. I can barely take care of myself, so how could I provide for a baby?

  Depressed, I take another slug from the bottle and pick up my phone to call my best friend Lucy. We roomed together in college and have been the best of friends ever since. I trust her with all of my heart, and have never been closer to another person. When I told her about my escorting gig our senior year, she was shocked but totally non-judgmental. She even covered a gig for me one time when I was sick, although of course, she was very reluctant.

  But all’s well that ends well because actually, Lucy met her husband on that escorting date. It’s a funny story really. I sent her to a hotel bar to meet my anonymous date for the night. In a strange turn of events, the client turned out to be her dad’s best friend, which sounds like a horrible accident, I know! But you see, Lucy had the hots for Shane for a long time, and had actually fantasized about him for years. And when Shane saw Lucy decked out in my sexy mini-dress, he lost it. Fireworks flew, and the rest is history.

  And they’re still together to this day. Lucy and Shane are happily married with two kids now, and I’m godmother to her kids, Jay-Jay and Harlow. I absolutely dote on those precious babies. I hope my life turns out as fruitful as Lucy’s too because now, she has everything. She’s a stay at home mom living in a beautiful, spacious penthouse with her handsome husband and two gorgeous kids. I would kill for a slice of that life. But who am I kidding? I’m a working girl, literally and figuratively, with no means of escape.

  Suddenly Lucy’s face appears on my phone screen. I swipe the green bar across the bottom of my phone to connect the video chat. She looks like a glowing Madonna with baby Harlow suckling at her breast.

  “Rose! How are you, girlfriend? How did work go tonight?” Lucy exclaims as she answers the phone.

  I smile ruefully.

  “Well love, to be totally honest I’m feeling pretty fucking awful.”

  Her face falls. “Oh no, what happened?”

  I blow out a stream of air.

  “The guy was just so horribly awkward and I felt really bad for him. I mean, how do human beings like that even exist?” I ask my friend. Compassion fills her eyes.

  “Oh no, I’m sorry to hear that. But I’m sure he’s fine, if he can afford a date with you. Plus, at least it’s just one night! I’m certain tomorrow’s date will be better,” she tries to assure me.

  That just makes my shoulders slump.

  “But that’s the thing. It won’t be! And even if by some miracle it is, it’s just one night. It will be a different man the next night, and the night after that. And really, it’s wearing on me. I can’t remember names and faces anymore, it’s that bad. I almost called John “Henry,” and vice versa. One day, it’s going to get me in trouble.”

  Lucy’s eyes are compassionate.

  “What are you trying to say, Rose?” she asks gently. My friend knows me well enough to know that this is much bigger than a bad day at work.

  “I want to change my life, Luce!” I exclaim. The words feel like they come flying out of me, and tears spring to my eyes from uttering the truth. I have had the underlying thought for some time now, but this is the first time I’ve ever said it out loud. It feels good to finally get it out there, and even better to hear the words reverberate through the phone mic. It’s silly, but it feels like this is the first step in making my aspiration come true.

  “How so?” Lucy asks gently.

  I shake my head.

  “I never meant to become an escort. It was just a way to pay for school so that I could get that much-needed degree. But unfortunately, it just grew and grew and grew. I couldn’t find a good job after graduation, so I came back to this,” I tell her.

  “But there’s nothing wrong with escorting,” Lucy says gently, shifting the baby a bit. “It’s just dinner and drinks most times. You’re not doing anything illegal.”

  I shake my head miserably.

  “But I don’t want to be an escort anymore. I’m tired of these monotonous dates. I’m tired of living on a tiny income, and it’s not like I’m going to be “promoted” at City Girls. There’s no such thing as a promotion in this line of work. And not only do I not want to do this for the rest of my life, I couldn’t even if I tried! I’m only getting older, and soon my boobs are going to sag to my knees and I’ll have wrinkles on my face. What client would want me then? I
have to find another option before it gets too late.”

  Lucy is patient.

  “Well, what do you want to do then?”

  I shrug miserably.

  “You know I love history, but there are no paths forward in that field. Literally zero right now,” I say. “I don’t have any other marketable skills either. I feel like I have nothing,” I say in a soft voice, tears beginning to roll down my cheeks.

  “Oh honey, I’m so sorry,” Lucy says. “Don’t feel bad! Everyone comes upon career bumps and jumps, it’s normal. But wait, what if …?” my friend begins, her face perking up. Her voice is growing more and more excited with each word as the thought springs to life. “What if you started your own escorting business? Then you wouldn’t have to worry about growing old, and you wouldn’t have to go out on dates either. You could send other ladies out for the night, and just take a cut of their pay.”

  I’m flabbergasted.

  “You mean, open my own agency?”

  She nods excitedly.

  “Yeah, why not? Think about it, Rose. You know the industry inside out. You know what the clients expect and how to keep the girls happy so that they want to work with you. I can’t think of a better person to run an escort business actually!”

  “I suppose it is something I would be good at.” My voice trails off a little as I picture myself in this role. “It sounds really fun too. But could I really go up against City Girls?”