Survivals Price

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Damian needed to get laid.

His cock was hard as a rock, and he wanted to sink it into warm flesh.

He took a long slug of his drink, scanning the room for prey. It was an easy enough place to find women—hell, he’d been here a thousand times for the same reason. He surveyed the stage, judging each dancer carefully. It was a tacky place, the kind of bar where men went for one reason and one reason only. Sex. Cheap sex. The women dancing on the stage weren’t looking for commitment, and they certainly weren’t interested in relationships. They wanted cash. Fortunately, he had credits to spare.

His men had already found companions, but he held off for the moment. For some reason none of the girls looked all that good. They all seemed worn, as if they’d been dancing too long. He might not be fool enough to expect his companion for the night to truly enjoy his company, but he wanted one who at least took the time to pretend.

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