Golden Angel 5 - Just Desserts - Excerpt

Anthony St. Laurent pulled his eyes from the beautiful scantily clad woman standing in front of him so he could glare at his mother. Jesus, the woman defied belief! He felt his jaw clench in anger even as his cock hardened in his pants at the sight of such loveliness.

"Christ, mother! Do you really think a stripper is an appropriate birthday gift for your only son?"

"She's not a stripper, darling. She's a – a companion. She's here for your pleasure for as long as you'd like. My treat."

"A hooker then," he exclaimed, exasperated. "Even worse!"

"There, there, Anthony," Joanna responded lightly. "Don't act so outraged. Methinks the boy doth protest too much." She grinned slyly toward his crotch. Humiliated, Anthony turned abruptly away from her, dropping a hand to cover the sizable erection the woman standing quietly in his den had effected.

This stunt took the cake. His mother had been trying for years to match him up with every wealthy single debutante this side of the Continent. Now she was stooping to prostitution, for god's sake! The woman was insane. He glanced at the girl, wondering how much his mother had shelled out for her open-ended stay as his private whore.

Anthony sank into a chair opposite the young woman. In a way he felt sorry for her. God only knew what pressure his mother had brought to bear to convince this girl to dress up like a birthday package. He was no stranger to his mother's very strong will, having been under the yoke of it his entire life. When Joanna St. Laurent set her mind to something, there was no stopping her.

With that in mind, Anthony forced himself to calm down. As misguided as she was, he knew she had his best interests at heart, at least in her own twisted mind. She had made it quite clear it was high time he married. She wanted grandchildren, though he seriously doubted she wanted them from a common prostitute!

Turning to his mother he said in what he hoped was a reasonable tone, "Well, Mother. I congratulate you on the most original, uh, gift, I've ever received." As Joanna nodded grandly he turned toward the silent young woman.

"Do you have a name?"

"I'm Laura," she said. Her accent was American, which he hadn't expected. Her voice was pleasing, low and soft, though her expression was curiously blank. Poor girl, she was probably frightened. She was standing there half-naked in front of two strangers, one of whom he knew had probably literally scared the pants off her.

"Well, Laura, I haven't had breakfast yet. Have you?" As she shook her head no, he said, "I'd be pleased if you'd care to join me." Turning to his mother he added, "Give her something decent to wear, please. I'll see you in a few."

About fifteen minutes later she appeared in the dining room doorway, looking hesitant and definitely nervous. At least she was dressed appropriately, in a dark brown linen sleeveless top with a boat neck and toffee-colored brown linen pants with matching sandals. She could have easily passed as one of the entitled little brats he'd grown up with, with her elegant outfit, the flawless skin, golden hair and perfect figure. He swallowed and gestured her in. "Please, have a seat."

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