Make Me Need It: Diva Diaries, #2

By SHE

I finally have Slade Pierce right where I need him--wrapped around my finger. I waited a decade for this moment. And I won't let anything, or anyone stand in my way. It should be easy. I'm an escort, after all. I'm used to controlling men and their wallets. But the more time I spend with Slade, the more I crave him. Now revenge is the furthest thought in my mind. I'd be crazy to fall in love with the former NBA star again. I just need to stay on course long enough to make him pay. Revenge was supposed to be the easy part. Breaking his heart without shattering my own will be the ultimate test.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Naughty Girls Ink
• Release date: Jan 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781941342473

SHE

S.H.E is a girl with a delightfully wicked imagination, and a weakness for alpha men. Thank goodness she has one of those sexy creatures at home, providing all the hands-on experience she needs. S.H.E is an indie author who runs her own business and loves every exciting moment of her journey. Her ultimate goal is to create naughty tales that leave her readers breathless. S.H.E loves social media and is always around to interact with her readers. Come visit where you’ll find delicious updates on her next sexy tale, or you can email her at [e-mail]

Book preview

Chapter 1

Dear Diva Diaries,

Revenge is better served bold.

The taxi pulled into the circular driveway and rolled to a stop. I stepped out, removed a crisp twenty-dollar bill I’d conveniently stuffed inside my 34D bra and handed it to the driver.

Keep the change, I purred, then spun on my heels and sashayed my sweet, tight ass up the driveway. I looked fabulous. Even the taxi driver knew it. I felt his eyes watching me and was halfway to the door before I finally heard his vehicle pull away. Humph! The way he’d been eyeballing me through the rearview mirror, as if I were a lollipop, he was probably stroking his cock as he drove off. I had to laugh at that; sometimes I even cracked myself up.

Cars and SUVs lined the circular driveway. BMW. Jaguar. Mercedes. There was a lot of money in that house.

Dear Diva Diaries...I can already smell it.

While I sauntered up the long sidewalk, I glanced at the mini mansion that gleamed under the moonlight and blew air between my teeth. It had to be at least six thousand square feet, with a beautifully manicured yard. And windows... I love big windows! Nothing was better than leaving them open, drawing in a cool gentle breeze.

Oh, hell ... let me stop. The only thing I cared about was the sweet smell of revenge, and you better believe, before it was all said and done, I planned to have just that.

And that was only the beginning.

I took a deep breath and slowed my strut. The last thing I needed was to start sweating. I’d spent almost three hundred dollars getting ready for tonight, but it was a small investment for what I would gain in the end. 

With every step, my thong stroked my clit, and I couldn’t help moaning aloud. My pussy was wet with anticipation and it wouldn’t be long before evidence of my arousal started creaming my inner thighs. Mmm. I hadn’t had any in a while, but let’s face it, good dick is just too damn hard to find. But there would be plenty of time for that later.

Oh, yes. All I needed was a few drinks, and as horny as I felt, I was more than ready to put my plan into action.

Before I’d even reached the double oak doors, I heard the music thumping and started rocking my hips. A tall bald man stood on the porch, checking IDs. I gave him my name. He checked the list attached to a wooden clipboard then nodded, granting me permission to enter.

The inside of the house was even more impressive: high ceilings, marble floors. The music pumped a thunderous Katy Perry beat, and I followed the sound toward the back, where strobe lights bathed the whole scene. The party was in full gear. People gathered throughout the house, drinks in their hands. Women outnumbered the men three to one, but I was by far the hottest chick in the house, and everyone knew it because as I sauntered into the room, they parted like the Red Sea. Women were whispering, guys were gawking at me, but I ignored them all and headed toward the bar.

It was a costume party after all, and there were plenty of freaks in the house. The costumes ranged from creative to downright scandalous. But no one could put a finger on me. I was wearing a black spandex cat suit that was crotchless and hugged every single luscious curve. I was Cat Woman, so you better believe I had claws and whiskers and a long tail pinned right above my ass. To complement my outfit, I was wearing black come-fuck-me shoes, with rhinestones and five-inch heels that made my long legs look sexy as hell.

I ran my fingers through my ponytail, a wavy blonde mane that flowed down my back. Men headed my way with anxious swaggers, all wanting a closer look, but I turned up my nose and headed in the opposite direction.

I found Brandy standing near the deejay stand. Over the phone, she told me she would be wearing a leopard-print mini-dress with a plastic bone clipped at the top of a strawberry-red wig. I guess she was supposed to be Wilma Flintstone. Her lush hips were swaying to the rhythm of the music. As soon as she spotted me heading in her direction, her brown eyes grew large and round.

Oh, my goodness! You look just like Geneva described you would. I’m so glad you could make it.

I can’t think of any other place I would rather be tonight, I replied with laughter, then glanced over at the two women standing to her right, eyeing me up and down.

Brandy turned to them and said, Ellie, Kathy, I’d like you to meet... Her voice trailed off, as if she could possibly have forgotten who I was.

Diamond, I said. My name is Diamond. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.

The two were dressed like rejects from America’s Next Top Model, wearing Versace and Louis Vuitton knockoffs that were supposed to be costumes. Between sips from their martini glasses, they both said hello and exchanged fake smiles, yet I watched them sizing me up. I was tempted to ask what they were looking at but decided against it. I was there for one reason and one reason only. And it wasn’t to get into a catfight.

Meow!

Totally ignoring the other two women, I chitchatted with Brandy for a few moments while she went over a few house rules, which I translated as simply, Anything goes. Another escort arrived, a tall blonde dressed in a camouflage mini and high-heeled combat boots. Brandy excused herself, then went over to welcome her.

There was an open bar, so I strutted over to the counter and ordered myself a glass of Merlot. While I waited, I gyrated my hips and dropped it like it’s H-O-T.

Hee-Hee!

I’m a free-spirited woman with few, if any, sexual inhibitions. With chocolate eyes (tonight they were green), high cheekbones and smooth sun-kissed skin, tonight, I was a sexual fantasy waiting to happen. Both men and women knew it. Men love me, and women can’t stand my ass. But I didn’t come here tonight to make friends. I was present for one reason—Slade Pierce.

You better believe I was a woman on a mission.

The bartender returned with my drink, and I leaned back against the bar and sipped from the flute while I searched for my target. I knew the guest of honor couldn’t be too far away.

I finally saw Slade near a sliding glass door, a beer in one hand and a cute redhead clinging to the other. While I sipped my drink, I took them all in. Slade and a handful of other NBA players had chosen not to wear costumes. I assumed Slade had decided to simply be himself—a heartbreaker.

Dear Diva Diaries, I bet he’s still a lying bastard.

I took my time, admiring the view. From where I stood, Slade looked wide-shouldered and enormous. His crisp white shirt was open halfway, showing off a massive chest to go along with those large biceps. Thick dark hair pushed away from a strong face that featured a long nose and piercing, brown eyes. Yummy. He looked good for a man who was knocking on thirty. Besides, for what I wanted, it didn’t matter if he had one eye, a pencil dick, and walked with a limp.

All I was after was revenge.

I stared across the room, waiting. When he finally glanced my way, I snaked out my tongue and rimmed my full red lips. I then finished my glass in one swallow and sashayed onto the dance floor. While I had his attention, I needed to make sure he saw every-thing I had to offer.

The deejay changed the music to Arianna Grande’s Side to Side. I bounced and wiggled my ass, then looked out the corner of my eyes to make sure Slade was still watching. Oh yeah, he was staring at me like a teenager at his first glimpse of a Playboy centerfold.

I smiled at a man standing to my left, dressed like Count Dracula, who’d given me what I assumed he’d meant as a come-hither smile. Next thing I knew, he’d made his way across the room and joined me on the floor, followed by a Spider-Man wannabe. I had one man in front while the other closed in from behind. Turning in Slade’s direction, I decided it was time to give him something to look at.

Stroking one long talon fingernail down the crotchless cat suit, I spread my legs and dipped my nail inside my pussy before taking it out, bringing it to my mouth and licking myself clean, just like the cat I masqueraded as. Slade’s eyes burned like fire from across the room, his interest caught. Satisfied, I smiled like a Cheshire cat. I then leaned against Dracula and felt his erection at my hip. Dammit! The things a woman must go through to get what she wants.

Dracula dipped forward and started whispering crap in my ear. I grinned and pretended I was interested in everything he was suggesting. He thought he was getting some of this sweet kitty tonight. Well, he was in for a surprise. I had my sights on one man. It was all a game. And the way Slade’s eyes remained on me, I knew I was winning.

The deejay announced he was about to slow it down, and couples walked onto the floor, anxious to engage in a sensual form of foreplay. The lights dimmed and I was surrounded by people and body heat. I excused myself, ditching my dance partners, and headed toward the bar. That’s when a pair of strong arms slid around me from behind and led me back onto the dance floor. Before I even glanced over my shoulder, I knew it was Slade.

Damn, you’re lovely, he whispered close to my ear, his breath tickling my shoulder.

Well, at least he appreciated beauty, and so far, he had no idea who I was.

I swung around, eager to see what it felt like, staring up into the eyes of a man who’d gotten away with ruining my life. His large eyes were the color of a dark stormy sky—and downright sinister. Just the way I had remembered them. I smiled but didn’t reply.

He gazed