“He can’t check out to visit on Christmas day?” Stanley asks, suddenly irritated.
“Afraid not,” Dad mumbles. “He really did it this time. He’s lucky he made it out alive. They want to keep a watchful eye on him. Any break from the routine might ruin his recovery.”
“Are you sure it’s not you guys that want to keep a watchful eye on him and not them?” Stanley grits out.
“We are concerned,” Mom says. “But even if Monty could visit, we wouldn’t allow it. He is unstable right now and I do not want him to ruin this Christmas for us.”
My eyes swing over to Matthew. He’s already looking at me.
See. I told him. Not even ten minutes, and they’ve shown him all their true colors: their disappointment in me, but even more so, their youngest son—their own flesh and blood.
I bet he thought I was exaggerating about how they are.
I’m sure right now what he’s thinking is that they are ten times worse than I made them out to be.
“Anyway,” Mom pushes to a stand. “Who’s ready for chocolate cake?”
The only people that scream for it are the twins.
Stanley pushes from the table, whipping out his cellphone and marching down the hallway as he dials someone.
I know what he’s about to do.
The front door shuts, and Lena and Bailey sigh, standing.
“I think I should call it a night. I’m beat, Mom,” Bailey sighs.
“Oh… okay, sweetie. Well, make sure you’re up by eight, okay? Christmas cards, remember?”
“Yeah… something tells me we won’t need to make them with Stanley getting involved.”
“Stanley can’t do a darn thing. Don’t worry yourself.” Mom walks away from the table, and picks up the cake from the kitchen counter. “You have a good night. We are all going to enjoy this cake that Jensen made us.”
She smiles at Bailey and Bailey rolls her eyes, walking down the hallway and muttering “whatever” beneath her breath.
We all know Mom is full of shit. Monty will probably be here tomorrow. Stanley never loses a case.
Stanley is a firm believer in having all the family around for the holidays, despite how badly they grate his nerves. If everyone isn’t here, he gets pretty upset about it and searches for solutions.
I don’t know. I guess after losing his wife, he’s afraid to lose a connection with anyone else close to him.
It’s understandable and I appreciate him a lot for it.
Selfless. Understanding. Funny. Kind. Helpful.
Stanley is a great guy. If only our parents could see that Monty can be the exact same way.
* * *
“So?” I ask as I flop down belly-first on the king-sized bed. I roll onto my back as Matthew sits on the edge. “What did I tell you? We are dysfunctional and screwed, right?”
We’ve just finished having hot chocolate, creating our own jacked up masterpieces full of peppermint, chocolate chips, and even syrup. Yes, I said syrup. The twins did that. I don’t know how Lena is ever going to get them to bed.
Charades didn’t even happen. No one was up for it after the sugar rush. They were all exhausted.
“A bit wild, yes. But I wouldn’t say completely screwed,” Matthew responds. “The end of dinner got a little intense there.”
“Very intense.”
He looks at me as if he’d like me to elaborate a little more, but also a look that says I don’t have to if I don’t feel like it.
“It’s just… Monty has always been the troublemaker and Stanley has always stood up for him. What can I say? That lawyer has a heart full of justice. The fact that Stanley didn’t know he was in rehab is probably bugging him because he always helps him get out early. My parents probably didn’t really call him. Stanley would have answered. He’d know, and he also would have stopped them, or at least put Monty in a place worth being in. My parents always choose the worst clinics.”
“Protective older brother. It’s common and it makes sense.”
I groan, staring up at the ceiling.
“I guess I was right,” Matthew says.
“About what?”
“You and Stanley seem to be the normal ones.” He smiles.
I snort. “What did you think of my evil sisters? I’m like Cinderella, right? If I didn’t look so much like everyone I would think I was adopted.”
“Hmm. Your sisters. Self-righteous and attention-driven wouldn’t be too low of a blow, would it?”
I giggle. “That would be a compliment, considering the labels I have them classified under in my mind.”
Matthew laughs, leaning back on his palms and focusing on his lap. “Other than the awkwardness at the end of dinner, I think that went pretty well. I expect more questions to come flying at me tomorrow, with the way your mother and father kept looking at me.”
“How were they looking at you?” I ask, placing a hand beneath my chin.
“Like they can’t believe I’m real… or that I belong to you.”
Belong to me? He makes it sound so intimate. “Oh.” I bite into my lower lip, releasing it slowly. He focuses on my mouth for less than a second, but then pulls his gaze away, standing from the bed and picking up his suitcase.
“You don’t mind if I take a quick shower, do you?”
“No—not at all. Have at it. I was going to check a few emails, maybe sneak to the kitchen for more cake once everyone is in their rooms.”
He peers at me over his shoulder. “I can’t lie. It was pretty damn delicious.”
“More than delicious! Jensen is a master at everything edible.”
“I have to meet Jensen.”
“I don’t think you will this year.” I push off the bed and pick up my laptop case from the desk in the corner. “He usually eats dinner with us every Christmas. He’s from Brazil, doesn’t have much family, so Mom always asks him to stay. This year, though, his Mom is sick so he’s in Brazil to take care of her. He cooked early for Mom so all she’d have to do is warm everything up. Sharing dinner with him is probably the nicest thing my mom really does for him. The rest of the year, he’s her bitch. Cooking breakfast, brunch, lunch, and dinner. She never lets up. Tania is her maid, but she’s with her family for the holiday.”
“Oh. Okay.” Matthew enters the bathroom, casually pulling his shirt over his head before starting the shower. I blink slowly when he appears again, pointing back with his thumb.
“Let me know if my singing gets too loud,” he says, and I pull my eyes from those delicious, rock-solid abs and up to his face. “I have a bad habit of singing in the shower and getting carried away with it.”
“Aww, how cute! Maybe you should sing happy birthday to yourself while you’re at it.”
“I don’t know about that one, but try me! Give me a good song to sing.”
“Okay… umm…” I sit in the chair, tapping my chin. “Oh, do one by X Ambassadors! I love them. I actually edited a piece about them for our musical column once.”
“Renegades?”
“The perfect song,” I sing, spinning in my chair.
Matthew lets out a hearty laugh and steps back. “You got it, angel.”
Before I know it, he’s disappeared, the door shut, hiding the view of that perfect body. I knew he was hot beneath the layers. I just knew it! Though I didn’t think he’d be that hot.
It’s difficult pretending I didn’t notice. So flawless, so toned and built, yet slender in all the right places. And that V! Let’s not forget the two cuts below those well-kept abs.
Now that I’ve caught sight of that, there is only one thing to wonder about now—a certain package he carries—but I guess I’ll never know the answer to that one.
I won’t get that view, but it was nice to catch sight of some delicious eye candy so soon.
Funny thing is, I think he did that on purpose.
He’s used to being drooled over. Maybe I wasn’t drooling over him enough, too focused on complaining about my family, so he did
that as a statement and a distraction.
I guess it worked because now I’m sitting here, listening to him sing loud and proud, while picturing soap and water running over his entire body.
Damn it! If only I knew how big he was. Maybe he’s not so big and that’s his flaw. There is always something. There has to be something wrong with him. It has to be the penis.
It just has to be.
Well, that’s what I think anyway, until he comes out, his body wet, his brown hair damp, floppy, and hanging over his forehead, and droplets of water caught in his beard. The only thing he’s sporting is a white towel around his waist.
And guess what?
There’s the dick print!
The slightly hard, thick, delightfully long, dick print.
Great. Yeah, just great.
Matthew Cooper has it all and more.
He has everything a girl like me dreams of.
Le sigh.
Score 100 for the Matthew the Escort. Score 0 for Piper the Weirdo.
Chapter 6
Matthew
“So… I guess we’re really sharing the bed, huh?” Piper walks out of the bathroom, her burgundy hair wet and curly.
She’s wearing a large, sheer white T-shirt that hangs off the shoulder and a pair of bubblegum pink shorts.
I have to say she looks adorable, like a high school girl about to get her sleepover started.
“I guess so.” I look her over briefly before pulling my gaze away.
She fidgets, still standing in front of the bathroom door. She’s not going to come willingly. I know that now.
I stand from the edge of the bed, pulling the blue comforter down and then the sheets.
“I don’t bite. I promise,” I tell her, gesturing for her to come over. “Gotta play the part, remember?”
“Yeah. My parents are really nosy and Bailey likes to pry. If she sees us sleeping separately she’ll immediately know you and I aren’t really a thing.”
“Should I lock the door then?” I ask, pointing back at it with my thumb.
“Mr. Cooper! Do you really think that’s appropriate?” she jokes.
“They’ll think we’re doing some nasty adult stuff,” I tease, my eyebrows wiggling.
“Hmm. A locked door would be very convincing. You’ve got a point there.” She launches herself onto the bed. “Sure. What the heck?” She shrugs, and I step back, locking the door.
It’s not so much to spare her the trouble, but really because I don’t want any of her family walking in on me, especially in the morning when I may have that familiar pal named Morning Wood visiting.
Piper sighs and flops back on the pillows, throwing her arms above her head and staring up at the ceiling.
As I round the edge of it, making way to flip the light switch, I can’t help but notice what’s prodding through her shirt—her nipples, so erect, so perky. And what’s worse? Through the sheer material I can see how rosy pink they are as they bud, taut and hard, and not because she may be cold or uncomfortable.
I’m wondering if it’s more than that, especially when she catches me looking at her.
“Ready?” I ask before she can notice my ogling.
But I’m sure she already has.
She smiles coyly, and slides to the other side of the bed. “Sure. You don’t mind if I take this side, do you? I’m weird about sleeping by the door.”
“Not at all.”
“Thanks.”
She tucks herself beneath the comforter. “All right. I’m ready.”
I flip the light switch, glad there’s a sliver of moonlight to guide me back to the bed.
Right now I’m wishing there were bunk beds in this place. Sharing a bed with Piper doesn’t seem too ideal anymore.
I’ve had some attractive clients, and I’ve had some… not-so-attractive ones. Normally the attractive ones have the worst attitudes—stuck-up, selfish, inconsiderate, or mean.
The not-so-attractive ones are usually very vulnerable, very antisocial, or very… weird.
But Piper is… well… she is none of those things.
I thought surely she’d be another one to be stuck up, conceited, and full of herself—especially after discovering she’s an editor at a lifestyles magazine. I thought it’d be another miserable weekend with a woman that thinks it’s all about her.
But I was mistaken.
She’s gorgeous, with an edge of adorable vulnerability that I can’t help but find tempting.
The reason I can’t share this bed with her is because I feel myself slowly hardening in my shorts. Mini-Cooper is on the rise and in need of release.
Her warm, sweet scent of cinnamon and apples is hard to ignore. I bet her skin is soft, and her mouth tastes sweet and fresh after brushing her teeth.
I’m not supposed to think of my clients this way. It’s a rule of mine. Keep the distance. Play the part. Get it over with. Get paid and then move the hell on to the next desperate woman.
Shit.
Maybe I should excuse myself. After all, it has been several weeks. The holidays tend to be busy times for me. I am typically booked solid, which means I can’t hook up with Gina and get a nut off.
It’s just sex with Gina and me. Nothing more
Piper sighs, pulling me out of my thoughts. “I know I’ve said it a lot, but thank you for coming, Matthew. And thank you for being so great tonight. I can tell everyone was really impressed, which is an accomplishment, so congrats!”
I laugh softly. “It’s no problem at all. It’s what I’m supposed to do.” But is it really?
I’ve always loved to impress people. Ever since I can remember, I’ve loved being in the spotlight. I’ve loved proving people wrong—showing them that I am capable of being more than just a pretty face.
People see me and they think of a typical man with a typical, egotistical attitude. But they’re wrong. I think I have strong character, in some ways more so than others.
But being this way, I’ve realized, isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
I’ve always wanted more, but more seems impossible for me. I say I want to retire, leave this escorting business in the past, but do I really?
Am I actually capable of leaving this behind?
The attention.
The desperate need I see in these women’s eyes.
The way they depend on me like no one else has.
How they drool over the mere sight of me?
“Well, goodnight,” Piper whispers. “We have a long day ahead of us. We usually go to the market for last minute things. Mom takes us every year—me, Bailey and Lena. The twins will most likely tag along. I think she forgets stuff intentionally just so we can spend girl time with her. Dad and Stanley will probably expect you to stay and play darts or pool with them in the basement.”
“Okay. I can do that. Doesn’t sound like too much to handle.”
“That’s not even the half of it. When we get back, everyone decorates the sugar cookies Mom bakes, we put lights on the pine tree in front of the house, and then come back in, drink hot cocoa, and watch the Grinch. After that, Dad drinks himself into oblivion and Mom fusses while sipping her eggnog. It’s funny to watch them bicker sometimes.”
I laugh. “Man. And this is tradition?”
“Yep. Every single damn year.”
“I guess I see how someone can get tired of that after a few years.”
She laughs. “Yeah. After we unwrap gifts on Christmas, everyone kind of just lets go, which is good. Makes it easier to pack my shit and sneak away. We’ll probably be out of here on Christmas night.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Because the sooner I’m done sharing a bed with her, the better off I’ll be.
“Goodnight,” she says sweetly.
“Goodnight, Piper.”
It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep.
After about fifteen minutes of absolute silence, she turns over and I hear her breathing turn heavy. I know then that she’s out for the night.
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My eyes dart up to the vaulted ceiling, my hand slipping beneath my shorts.
My cock is still hard for her.
I fondle my balls, sliding my hand back up to the shaft, circling my tip.
My eyes shut, and for the first time today, I relax. I sink into the pillows, breathing deep, stroking my cock. I pump soft and slow, with my elbow off the mattress, easy enough that she won’t feel it.
Piper groans, and I freeze as she shifts in her sleep. Her hand ends up on my right shoulder, and I have the urge to curse beneath my breath.
Fuck. She’ll definitely feel me jacking off now.
I slide my hand back down, cupping my sack, debating whether I should finish elsewhere. Piper groans again, and to my utter surprise, she speaks.
“Maybe you should go to the bathroom,” she whispers.
My pulse quickens. I swallow thickly, avoiding her gaze. For a moment, I think she’s a sleep talker, but I’m only fooling myself. That’s what I hope for, aside from being swallowed whole by the mattress.
She sits up, looking down at me.
I feel stupid.
So goddamn stupid.
“Do you do this around all of your clients?” she asks, her eyes darting down to my lap and then focusing on mine again. I can’t tell if she’s aggravated or intrigued. Her voice is light, but I can’t really see her facial expression.
“Do what?” I ask stupidly.
“Seriously? Are you really going to act like I didn’t feel those jerking movements? Are you so comfortable with yourself that you think you can just jack off in the bed and I’m not going to notice?”
“I thought you were sleeping,” I murmur.
“I wasn’t… yet. Trying. But I don’t know how any woman can sleep with you laying right beside her.”
I squint my eyes, focusing on her face. The only thing I can make out are her eyes, and they are gentler than expected.
“This is the first time it’s happened, but I can understand if you want me to sleep somewhere else. I should have excused myself. I apologize.”
“No,” she whispers. “You shouldn’t have… because I can help.”
Holiday Escort: A Christmas Novella Page 5
