Selling Satisfaction (14 page)

Maybe I put it on her a little too thick. Maybe taking the road of honesty was too much for her. She clears her throat, sliding the chair back as she reaches for her wallet and keys. "You're sweet," she says. "I had fun tonight. Thanks for thinking of me."

As she starts to head for the door, I place my beer down to walk after her. "I'm sorry if I crossed the line. I just didn't want you to think there was any possibility of another women. I know I don't know you that well, but I want to."

She pauses when she reaches the door, taking a deep breath before facing me again. "You really don't, Everett. You are kind, and handsome, and funny. I like you. In a better scenario, I'd allow this to happen, but I'm no good for you. I'm poison."

"Stop..."

"No. You need to hear this. I have a lot of baggage. I have a horrible past I couldn't begin to tell you about. My future is the same as my present. I'm not going anywhere extravagant in life, I'm always going to be this..." She looks down and back up at herself. "I don't have much of a heart. The only thing I'm capable of loving is money. No one is capable of loving me, not all of me anyways. So please, please don't make this any harder."

I step forward, hoping she doesn't walk out on me. When she doesn't move, I step forward once more. Then again, standing right before her. The emerald green of her big, round eyes look up at me with agony and fear. There isn't a doubt in her mind that everything she says is true. I hate that. I fucking hate it. No one in this world should have ever made her feel the way she does.

"If you feel like this is hard, Brenna, it's because it's worth it. Nothing worth anything in life is easy. Let me be the calm to your storm. If you don't want to be rescued, I won't try to save you, but I'll be the arms that hold you when you decide to fold into yourself at the end of the day, and I'll be the same set of arms that'll carry you to all of your potentials. You need to at least try and let me in, whether it be a day at a time or all at once. I can handle history and pain, I can handle heartache, I can handle a lot more than you realize, but what I can't handle is you criticizing yourself. Your scars, both past and present, make you who you are. And if I can say so myself, you're pretty damn amazing."

Real tears starts to form in her eyes, but she doesn't smile with them, so I can't tell if they're thoughtful, happy, surprised tears like I had hoped for. Instead, I think she may actually be sad. I don't want to hurt her, hell, I don't even want her to hurt. I had imagined her throwing her arms around my neck, thanking me, and then sharing a passionate kiss together. None of that went according to plan.

Instead she takes a step back, nearly flush against my door, ready to leave. I step towards her once more as she shakes her head back and forth. She's trapped between me and the exit. "Everett... You don't understand," she starts to plead with a heavy voice.

I come forward, my lips mere inches from her. I will her to say something more but she doesn't. She doesn't push me away, or tell me to stop, but she also doesn't give any indication she wants me to kiss her. I don't think she would if she wanted to. She's been telling herself for far too long that she isn't worthy of this. I am going to do everything I can to prove her wrong.

Placing my hand on her cheek she slightly flinches but she doesn't look away. I watch as she swallows her nervousness. I probably shouldn't enjoy it so much. "Brenna," I whisper her name. Her eyes take me in. She watches me closely, waiting for what more I need to say to her. "I'm going to kiss you now."

Her head starts to pull back ever so much, but with my hand on her cheek, I slide it to the nape of her neck, lacing my fingers through strands of her hair. She doesn't fight me off, so I pull her to me. Our lips glide simultaneously against the other. She holds reserve with her mouth, but when I give more push, she pulls. Her kiss becomes needier with mine. She's enjoying it. With that, I run my tongue along her mouth, waiting for her to accept my plead. She opens her mouth willingly.

I didn't know a kiss could surrender me quite like this. The intensity leaves me wanting more.

I push Brenna against the door. My other hand runs along her hip, which starts to bend. She wraps her leg around mine, bringing me as close to her as two clothed people can be. My body grinds against her. Every part of me is standing on end, my nerves are starting to tingle. I want more of Brenna. I want all of her.

As fast as my pants start tighten around my dick, she pushes me away. Her hand instantly covers her mouth as she pants breathlessly through the gaps of her fingers. Her eyes linger on mine. She's panicked- but I can't tell if it's because she wanted it or not. I don't apologize, because in no way do I regret it.

"I should go," her words rush out.

"Please... don't."

We both stare for a moment before her hand drops from her mouth. "This can't happen again." Now that she isn't as breathless, I can hear the emotion laced in her voice.
Fuck!
I hope I didn't screw everything up for good. "You're a great guy, but..."

"Stop, Brenna. Stop. Don't say anything. That was the most intense kiss I've ever experienced. Please don't say you regret it."

"I don't regret it." My relief washes away- at least some of it. "I just... I need to go."

She turns quickly to open the door, but before it can open I place my hand flat against it. Bringing my mouth to her ear, I whisper, "Can I at least walk you to your door?"

It takes a second for her to answer me. "If you promise not to kiss me again."

I step back to open the door, then we walk out together. It's somewhat awkward until we get into the elevator. I turn to look at her. Her face is flushed with lightly colored cheeks. It actually looks incredible on her. Maybe because of the fact I caused her to look that way. It's a victory in my book.

"Is this a step backward for us?" I have to ask.

She glances over at me, her eyes as round as saucers. She's been analyzing the same thing as me. "I don't know what this is."

"Can I take you on a date?"

"I don't think you should ask me things like that."

"Okay... I want to take you on a date." I smile, but she doesn't. She continues to stare at me bewildered by everything. I would like to say I wish I didn't kiss her, but that'd be an outright lie. That is one thing I'll never regret. "Friday night?"

"I have to work." She fiddles with her keys, her nervousness evident.

The door glides open when we reach her floor. She gives me a half excuse of a smile before walking down the hall. As the door is about to close, I step out to follow behind her. I can't leave this where it is. "Brenna," I call after her. She doesn't stop until she's at her door. As she pushes the key into the door, she glances over at me. I hadn't noticed until now the goosebumps lining her arms. I'm taking it as a good sign. "Come over for dinner this weekend," I continue. "I'll order take out, we'll stay in. No has to dress nice or put on an act. We can talk about anything at all or absolutely nothing. But before
you
decide your worth, let me discover who you are. Let me make the decision of how I feel. Because everything I've found out about you up to this point has been amazing. I know you have pain and I know you're hiding things, but you don't have to with me. I want to prove that to you."

I hate pouring my heart out like a fucking tool, but I want to wake her up from her delusionary idea of being an inconvenience in people's lives.

She seems to appreciate my effort nonetheless. Her body relaxes as the color to her face starts to return. "I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into with me. And I can't make many promises, but dinner... I can do dinner. Let me look at my work schedule and I'll get back to you with when I'm able to."

"Does this mean we get to exchange phone numbers now?"

She nearly growls at my suggestion, and with an eye roll pulls her phone from her wallet. "What's your number?" I give it to her and she types something out, before sliding the phone back in her wallet. "There, numbers switched. Have a good night, Everett."

Backing away while I'm in the lead, I grin mercilessly at her. "Good night, Brenna."

Tonight was one hell of a fucking night.

*~*~*

The curtains haven't been updated
since sometime in the nineties, and the duvet on the bed matches with its fading red roses and white frills on the shams. It's airy, there is a lot of sunshine in here, but I still feel closed up. My palms are sweaty. I run them along my jeans nervously, only to roll them into a fist once more. Maybe I should have had a few drinks before this.

This is my job, I've gone undercover far better than this. One time I did a six month sting for drug trafficking, and was practically a drug lord’s right hand man for the latter two months. I did a thirteen month undercover job as a tattoo artist to get intel on Paul Shilnorth, who I caught in the act of giving minors both tattoos and heroin. I've closed up shop on many different things over the years, and I'm damn good at my job.

So why am I nervous?

I know why. Brenna.

I got home last night to see her message- all it said was
thank you for tonight
. Nothing more, nothing less. It sent me with a mix of feelings- I'm proud that it was me that made her feel so damn special, obviously more than a lot of people in a long time. Which also pissed me off, because there is no way a woman like her should have so much self-doubt. She was brought up in foster care, that alone proves she's had a rough past, then to add in the fact that in her early twenties she's already successful. She's determined, and beautiful, and can handle her own. She's independent. She's... perfect.

Which is why I'm nervous now. I know there isn't a reason in the world she'll find out I'm about to spend an hour in a hotel with a prostitute, but I know if she did find out, it'd kill her. She shows a tough exterior, but I can tell she's weak when her feelings are involved, which explains her solid concrete walls. I've bulldozed my way through one of them, but there are many to go. I'm nervous as all hell that she'll find any reason to start layering the damn concrete blocks back up.

Eyeing the mini bar, I decide that maybe I do want a drink. Part of my ploy is to act drunk anyways, and I had planned on having one or two beforehand, but I got caught up at the office.

Walking over, I grab a glass tumbler, filling it with a scoop of ice. I drown the cubes in the amber liquid. I hover the Coke above it, then place it back down, taking the straight shot of whiskey instead. It slightly burns my throat but the fire feels relaxing, and I can feel as it starts to warm through my veins. This is what I needed to calm my nerves.             

With a relaxing sigh, I shuffle back over to the bed, just in time for the door to open. The woman has unruly red hair, that she purposely mused to look like she just got fucked. She takes a few strides forward, smiling seductively at me. I'm not a fan of redheads, but I can admit she isn't exactly bad looking.

"Hi," she purrs. "I'm Mona." She unsnaps her jacket, letting it slide from her arms before tossing it over to a chair. She adjusts the strap to her tank top, which slid down- I assume on purpose, because her black laced bra strap is evident. She looks down as she slowly places the strap in place, then runs her hand across the front of her, making sure her fingers glide across the voluptuous curves of her breasts.

I can admit, they're distracting. What guy wouldn't want to look at that? I remind myself that she's a whore, she gets paid to be seductive, so I clear my throat and look away. "Hi," I reply nervously. I'm supposed to play the part of someone who is apprehensive. I guess it's a good thing Brenna is keeping me on edge, without even knowing it.

"Michael, correct?" She steps closer.

I look up as she runs her teeth against her plush bottom lip. She eyes me curiously, waiting for a reaction from me. I clear my throat before speaking again. "Yeah, I'm Mike. I, uh... this is my first time. Mind if I have a drink?"

"As long as you pour me one." She runs her fingers along my chest as I step around her, then she takes a seat on the bed behind me. I have to inhale a breath of air to cleanse my nerves.

This is fucking ridiculous. I shouldn't be feeling seduced. I told that Kandy Ginger chick that this wasn't about sex, this was about conversation. Maybe this is how Mona eases her way into conversation, but it doesn't seem fair to me.

"Coke and whiskey?" I ask after the whiskey is already poured.

"Perfect. I love when my drinks are strong... soothing..." When I turn around, she eyes me up and down, adding in the word, "Delicious. Kind of like my men."

I hand her the drink, standing away from her. "Were you, uh, told how today would be?"

Pulling the cup from her mouth, she perks a brow up. "I did. You want to talk. You're a recent heartbreak." She stands from the bed to place her glass down, walking over to run her hand along my shoulders behind me. Her mouth comes up to my ear. "You know, I can find other ways to mend that broken heart."

"I... I know. I'm not ready for that though."

She continues to glide her hand across my body, keeping it above the belt. This isn't Brenna, and it doesn't feel right. "Oh baby," she continues in her overly sweet voice. She stands in front of me, placing both her hands on my chest, curling the fingers so she can slightly dig into the fabric of my pocketed tee-shirt. She runs her fingers downward, stopping at the buckle on my jeans. "The best part of my job is helping handsome, rugged men like yourself feel better. I can make you forget all about whoever it is that you're yearning over. If you don't want to fuck-" her hand goes down to cup my dick in her hands- "I can certainly use my mouth. Once you're being pleasured, all your stress and nerves will disappear."