I stand, eyes narrowed, and as I get closer, I see that it’s wrapped in gift-wrapping paper.
I pause, debating whether I should even look at the tag. It may not even be for me. It might not even be hers. But who else’s could it be?
I go for the package, picking it up and checking the tag.
To: Matthew
From: Piper
These are words I shouldn’t see.
Without thinking, I open the gift, and when I come across the collection of the first issues of The Walking Dead comic books I remember telling her about at the airport, my face goes blank and my chest tightens.
“You weren’t supposed to find that.” Piper’s voice fills the room and I turn, spotting her wrapped in a towel, her burgundy hair dripping.
She’s almost soaking wet, droplets of water spilling down her chest, her face clear of makeup. She’s fresh, and clean, and I’ve just discovered a gift no one has ever considered giving to me.
“Why did you buy this?” I ask, stepping towards her.
“Because I’m trying to play my part. We have to, remember? It would be odd of me not to give my boyfriend a gift for Christmas.”
“This is something I actually like, though. Something I can keep.”
“So?” She shrugs, picking up her suitcase and sifting through it. She takes out a silky, cream-colored gown, dropping her towel without a care in the world.
Her perfect ass is right in my face, the water from her hair dripping right through the crack.
My nostrils flare when I realize what she’s doing.
She’s pretending she doesn’t care—but trying to get me to care too much.
Tempting me.
Teasing me.
Playing the part, as she keeps repeating.
Well, maybe she’s playing it too damn well.
“Piper?” I call as she unfolds the gown.
“Hmm?”
“Look at me.”
“Why?”
“Look. At. Me.”
She stops, gown in hand, lowering her arms as she looks over her shoulder. Then, gradually, she turns, meeting my eyes.
My eyes travel over the length of her, those perfect pink nipples, pebbled and ready to be sucked. Her bald pussy, those full thighs.
Her eyes point down to my cock. I look with her. I’m as hard as a fucking rock now.
I walk towards her with the collection in hand, narrowing my eyes. “You didn’t buy this to play the part.”
“Yes, I did,” she retorts.
“No, you didn’t. You bought it to be kind—because I told you I like the show and comics.”
“I just bought something realistic.” She shrugs.
“Don’t shrug your shoulders at me.”
She frowns when she realizes I’m serious.
I drop the collection on the desk and then grip her hips, tugging her close. “I have a personal gift for you.”
“What is it?” she asks.
“I’m going to fuck you one more time,” I whisper, pressing my lips to the shell of her ear. “My present to you, angel.”
A whimper catches in her throat.
“See how hard you’ve made me? How badly I want you now? You keep doing this to me. It must be what you want— what I want. So, yeah, this will be my Christmas gift to you, Piper. Just make sure you do everything I tell you to do.” I step back, pulling my sweater over my head and then unbuttoning my jeans. I then climb on the bed, lying flat on my back. “Turn the lights off and then come here.”
She watches me for several seconds, astonished, confused. But in a matter of seconds, she walks over to flip the switch and then climbs on the bed. “What now?”
“Sit right here. Right on my face.”
“Your face?” she breathes.
“Yes. Ride my face. I need to taste you again.”
I hear her swallow hard, and as I grab her hand, bringing her closer, she comes willingly, swinging a leg over and settling above me.
I spread her thighs apart, grab her ass, and because I know she probably hasn’t done anything like this before with her loser dates, I lift my head and glue my mouth to her pussy.
A sharp gasp fills the room as I groan below her, staring right up into her eyes as she focuses on mine. My tongue runs through her folds, and then I bury it deep into the hole, flicking and sucking.
Sucking and flicking.
“I don’t understand you,” she sighs, working her hips in small circles.
I groan.
“If I’m just a client,” she breathes again, “why do you keep doing this to me?” Her voice is shaky and it makes my cock throb, especially when she grips my hair, grinding her wet pussy on my face. “Oh, just like that,” she gasps, gripping tighter. “Oh, God. Yes.”
It doesn’t take long for her to get there. Her body bucks and pitches in unexplainable ways. She trembles and whispers my name, and then her thighs lock around my face.
Her entire body quakes, and she cums so damn hard, as if she’s been in need of release all day.
Her sweet juices coat my tongue, and I can feel her clenching, her grip loosening in my hair when her body finally settles down.
Clutching her waist, I pull her aside and then climb above her, shoving one leg in the air and gripping onto the back of it. My cock fills her in without any hesitation at all.
It slides right in with no resistance.
She’s wet as hell, drenching my cock as I thrust deep.
“Shit, Piper,” I breathe. “Pussy is so fucking wet, angel.”
She writhes below me, and I stroke faster, deeper, my hand traveling up to her throat and gripping it lightly. She likes it—how I can dominate every part of her. She likes that I’m in control, that we’re doing this after a full day of denial.
She likes feeling my cock deep inside her. I know it. She works her hips with me, needing me to fill her with every inch, her pussy milking the length of me.
“I bet you wish you never hired me, huh?” I ask, dropping my hips and shoving in my entire cock.
She gasps, letting out a hard whimper. “No,” she breathes. “No. I’m glad I did.”
“And why’s that, babe?”
“Because,” she pants, running her hands down my chest, “you are the best I’ve ever had.”
“Glad to hear that.” I smile smugly, fluidly slamming my way in, her fingernails trailing down my chest.
I shut my eyes and the sensations take full control. I feel everything, how tight she is. How wet she becomes, gripping the hell out of my cock. She doesn’t let up, grinding in sync with me, sliding closer and picking her hips up off the bed to feel it all.
When it’s due time, I can’t help but explode, stilling between her thighs and groaning. She looks up at me with those bright green eyes, sighing as she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip.
“You are so sexy, Piper,” I whisper, leaning in, my lips on the lobe of her ear, beard running across her cheek.
“Don’t say stuff like that to me. Not right now.” She slides from beneath me, sitting on the edge of the bed. Gathering her hair on one side of her face, she sighs, and the room grows unbearably quiet.
I don’t know what she’s thinking at all. I grab her shoulder, and she glances back quickly, but doesn’t meet my eyes.
Turning away and staring down at the floor, she finally says, “Matthew… I was thinking…”
“Thinking what?”
“Well, if you want to leave early you can.”
I turn around, staring at her back.
“Why would I do something like that?”
“Don’t worry—you would still get paid. I’ll deliver your money personally. You’ve done a great job. Really.”
Oh, shit. “But…?”
“But… well, I know how I am. And… the truth is I do like you, Matthew. You are a great guy and you’ve made this Christmas fun for me. But I know these feelings for you probably aren’t real, because you are just doing your job and it can’t be that wa
y.”
I hesitate, and then reply. “No, it can’t.”
She’s quiet for what feels like an eternity. Then she stands from the bed, putting on her gown and sliding into a pair of slippers. She walks towards the door, but before she can go I’m up, grasping her in my arms.
“Where are you going?”
She looks over my shoulder, focusing on the bed. “I can’t share a bed with you anymore.”
“What do you mean? Why not?”
She shakes her head. “I just can’t. Not when I know what’s best for me.” She stands close, but it seems she isn’t close enough. “I’m afraid of one thing, Matthew. One thing I’ve always had a bad habit of doing—something I try so hard to avoid.” She strokes my cheek, her voice softer as she finally says, “And that’s falling for the wrong guy.”
She pulls out of my arms, looking me deep in the eyes, and then turning, opening the door and walking down the hallway.
I stand there, naked, dumbfounded, but I don’t go after her.
I can’t go after her.
I can’t because I’m doing what’s best.
Sparing her feelings.
Sparing her heart.
A girl like that deserves way more than some lame escort with a felony.
It would be pointless of me to lead her on like that.
Chapter 13
Piper
It’s Christmas Day and it is dragging on. Emphasis on the word dragging.
It’s the same thing every year. After we unwrap presents, we eat a Christmas breakfast that consists of waffles, muffins, scrambled eggs, and sausage. Coffee comes in handy with all the energy Mom can somehow conjure up. Sometimes it’s hard to keep up with her.
I avoid Matthew as much possible, but not enough for others to notice. Of course he does. I can feel him looking at me, and during breakfast he even asked me if we could have a word alone.
I told him ‘no’, got up to clean off my plate, and then went to work on some stuff for the magazine in “our” bedroom for a few hours.
Fortunately, there is an extra room here and I made use of it last night, tossing and turning as I tried to sleep. It was a horrible experience, but only because I couldn’t get him off of my mind.
It’s about four in the afternoon now and in about fifteen minutes everyone will be outside for the annual Madison family snowball fight.
I am not up for it this year. I love a good snowball fight, but with Matthew around and the truth circulating, I can’t get into it.
While everyone is being bombarded by snow, I’m drowning myself in glasses of red wine and responding to a few emails from Jen at the kitchen counter.
She’s not having the best of time with her family, either. I’m certain if my family wasn’t so overbearing she’d rather be here than there. Too bad they are.
As I send off an email, I hear the front door shut and Stanley shows up in the kitchen moments later.
“Woo!” He dusts off the snow, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. “You are missing one hell of a fight out there, Pipey! Matthew has a fucking cannonball for an arm.” He shrugs out of his coat, walking for the fridge. “Did he play baseball before?”
His question is asked almost like he already knows the answer.
“How would I know?” I mutter rhetorically. “If anyone has that background information, it’d be you.”
He steps up to the counter, smirking as he chugs down his beer. I don’t think he catches my sarcasm. “You should know things like that—what sports he played, how he likes his coffee, what cologne he wears… right?” he muses.
I shut my laptop, picking up my glass of wine and walking towards the exit of the kitchen. I can’t be around Stanley. I might blow up on him.
I can hear Jana and Joey squealing like piglets and Mom shouting how someone is cheating. It sounds like fun, but I think I’m a little too tipsy to bother. I guess I’ll go to the basement and watch some Sex and the City on the big screen.
“Wait—Piper,” Stanley calls before I can escape. I turn, groaning as I roll my eyes.
“What, Stanley?”
He holds his hands out, confusion masking his face. “Hey—you’ve been avoiding me more than ever lately. What’s going on with you?”
What the—hold on! Is he fucking kidding me? After all he’s said to Matthew he thinks he can pretend he doesn’t know what’s going on?
I step towards him, thinning my eyes. “You really have the balls to ask me that question right now?”
He laughs nervously. “Well, yeah. You’re usually the life around here. The only one I can really goof off with. Things seem a bit dull between us.”
“Okay.” I walk to the kitchen island where he’s standing and place my glass down. “Stop acting like you don’t know what’s going on. Because you wanted to be nosy and do some digging, you have ruined everything between Matthew and me! I mean seriously! Are you so bored and miserable without Macy that you had to go digging into Matthew’s business?”
He stares at me, a blank expression. I think I’ve just fired some serious shots. I’ve unleashed anger that was never supposed to escape. I guess this is goodbye to me being his favorite, but I can’t take it back now.
Stanley had no right. Why couldn’t he just accept Matthew like everyone else and move the hell on?
I care, but at the same time I don’t, because if he’d never opened his damn mouth to Matthew, I wouldn’t be trying to avoid him and Matthew wouldn’t be so hesitant to make a move now. Matthew, I’m sure, is ready to zoom right through the exit as soon as his time with me is finished.
I know I’ve ruined things too, by avoiding and ignoring him, but it had to happen because my idiotic brother wanted to dab into someone else’s life.
Stanley stands up straight, running a hand through his hair and then across his face. His face is much whiter now, the color completely drained from it.
“Wow, is that really how you feel? Like I ruined everything?”
“How the hell else should I feel? Everything was fine before you put a scare into him.”
The kitchen becomes quiet, and Stanley puts his beer bottle down, dropping his head.
“Piper,” he says quietly. “The only reason I did it is because I am your brother and I love you. I want nothing but the best for you and if looking into someone to make sure you don’t end up hurt later was selfish of me, then I guess I can live with that because I don’t regret it. I would take a bullet for you without hesitation. I will do whatever it takes to protect you… but I guess you don’t see it that way, which is cool. I just… I thought you would understand, is all. You didn’t tell anyone about this guy. Not even me. I had my reasons to be suspicious.”
He forces a smile at me, but it’s broken and sad. My eyes welt and guilt automatically eats my heart out as he walks around me, leaving the kitchen and walking out the back door.
Damn it, Stanley! Why couldn’t he have said that before I spewed all of those mean words?
Now I feel like shit.
My head drops and I blow a defeated sigh. Regret washes through me. I know Stanley doesn’t have much of a life without Macy. I shouldn’t have said that. That was so wrong of me.
My heart breaks for him and I feel so awful because I know deep down he was doing it with my best interests at heart. He has always done things like this for me, and most of the time because I hinted at it.
I never asked him to look into Matthew, and I never would have told him to.
Stanley never meant any harm, I’m certain of it. And I’d do the same for him if it meant I was protecting him.
The front door opens and Mom walks in, covered in snow. She spots me in the kitchen as she enters, pulling off one of her gloves.
“Hey, sweetie,” she chimes. “You aren’t going to come out for the snowball fight? Gotta tell ya, Matthew has great aim! He’s been hitting everyone!” She steps in front of me, smiling like a schoolgirl. “He is such a fun, loveable guy!”
I try
so hard not to roll my eyes.
She’s so happy to brag about him, so cheerful about a guy she thinks will be her future son-in-law. But he isn’t hers to brag about, and I hope she hasn’t told any of her friends because Matthew doesn’t deserve that either.
She continues raving about him, complimenting every highlight and little thing he has done so far on this trip. I have never heard her talk about me like this. It’s almost as if—almost as if she wished I’d met him sooner. Someone to pick up my slack, make me into the wife and mother she wants me to be.
“It’s a good thing you met him,” she says for like the hundredth time. “He is patient, compassionate, sweet, fun, and he doesn’t take things to heart like you always do. He’s your polar opposite, which happens to be a good thing because opposites tend to make the best couples. I guess I can see why he fell for you. You are a beautiful girl, but honey,” she groans, grabbing the hem of my shirt, “you have to give up these kind of clothes. No one bothers with vintage apparel anymore.”
All right.
That’s it.
I’ve done something stupid with Stanley, hurting his feelings on Christmas, but now it’s Mom’s turn. I’m about to do something else stupid and drastic in the midst of my anger, but I only do it because I’m tired of pretending.
I’m tired of her thinking that because I like vintage clothes and write and edit more than I buy groceries, that I am not an ideal woman. I am so sick of this Christmas, and I’m tipsy and angry and I know I will regret this later, but right now I don’t care anymore.
I just want to go home.
Screw the holidays.
They are never worth it.
“He’s only putting on a show, Mom,” I grumble.
She frowns as she rounds the counter, confusion swimming deep in her eyes. “What do you mean, Pipey?”
I look her straight in the eyes. “I mean Matthew isn’t my boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend! I hired him to pretend to be my boyfriend and by the end of our deal he’ll be $7,000 richer.” I throw my hands in the air with a shrug, as if I’m exasperated. “We don’t like or love each other. We aren’t planning on getting married or having babies—hell, after this weekend we will never see each other again and you know what? I am more than okay with that because he’s not as great as everyone thinks he is. So there. I admit it. He’s not the perfect guy. He’s a fake that eats up all the attention you give him. He was just pretending to be one. So can we all just stop pretending we are so damn happy now?”
Holiday Escort: A Christmas Novella Page 10
