No Refunds-No Exchanges
A Hudson Family Series-Book 4
Matt and Ali
By
Chontelle Brison
No Refunds, No Exchanges
A Hudson Family Series- Book 4- Matt & Ali
Copyright © 2016 by Chontelle Brison
All rights reserved. This publication or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the selfless men and women who dedicate their lives to saving lions, tigers, bears, wolves and every breed of animal that you can think of. It can be a thankless job and one they do out of love. I learned so much from the Animal Sanctuaries that I had the privilege of visiting and I will always carry those heartfelt moments with me wherever I go.
Matt
“Oh Yes! Matt baby, I want you sooooo much!” Sylvia purred as she arched her back to push herself deeper onto my wet fingers. Fingers, I was currently pumping in and out of her dripping, swollen pussy. The sound was music to my ears; I loved the sound of a woman completely giving herself over to an orgasm. Of course, an orgasm that I was giving her.
“I want you to baby, I think you’re almost ready for me,” I whispered as I took my teeth and nibbled on her slick folds. Sylvia screeched and thrust her hips off the bed as she tried to grab my head to bring me toward her for a kiss. Happy to oblige I let my fingers slip from her slick body and I crawled up her body until our lips crashed together. Sylvia groaned as she sucked my tongue so hard I almost cringed.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a woman who goes for what she wants and in my business you want to give a woman the freedom to explore her deepest fantasies. But Christ! I literally think the woman had sucked my tongue so hard I was astonished it was still in my mouth! Deciding to take control back, I broke off the kiss and smiled as she lay there panting. Her large, professionally done, breasts were heaving, and her dark nipples were so tight and sensitive that I knew if I even blew on them lightly she would explode.
Sylvia was one of my regulars, so I knew all the buttons to push on her body to make her squirm, squeal and ride out orgasm after orgasm. She may be a top executive for some marketing firm in Los Angeles, but when she was with me, I called the shots, and she loved every second of it.
Grabbing the hands that were running up and down my sweaty chest, I pinned them carefully above her head. Her silver eyes flashed with heat as I nudged her legs apart. I knew what she wanted, she wanted it hard and fast, almost to the point of painful. Luckily, I was gifted with an above average sized cock and knew how to work it!
“Please baby, I need it, I need you,” she gasped desperately trying to reach my lips with hers.
I smiled down at her and gave her one of my standard, sexy, green-eyed looks. The one I gave to my clients when I wanted them to feel how much I wanted them, how much I couldn’t wait to make them cum.
“Don’t worry baby, I’ll take care of you,” I whispered as I released one her hands and retrieved the condom that I had placed under the pillow. I watched her eyes as she watched me tear into the wrapper with my teeth.
“No condom, Matt please, I need to feel you, I have to feel you and only you. Skin to skin!” She pleaded as I rolled the condom down my hard length. I kept my smile firmly in place.
Sylvia wasn’t the first client to want me to go bareback. I had heard everything from being on the pill, to a customer who claimed she’d had a hysterectomy, and there was no chance of pregnancy. I always refused; it was a hard limit, a deal breaker. There was no way I would ever risk myself or anyone of my clients that way, it was unprofessional and foolish, and I was far too logical to be that stupid. Deciding not to answer Sylvia, I opted to distract her instead. Besides, once I was slamming her into the headboard of this very expensive bed, in this very expensive Caesar’s Palace Casino villa, she’d forget all about the condom.
I dipped my head and pulled one puckered nipple into my mouth. First, I sucked and then I nibbled, and just when I thought she would come just from that, I sucked her softly, keeping her on the edge of an orgasm. Her hips bucked, and her head tossed back and forth on the silk pillow, her wild blonde hair spread out as if she were an angel. I pushed her wrists up higher and slammed my mouth onto hers, swallowing her moan with my tongue as I thrust into her.
Sylvia screamed into my mouth as her tongue tried to catch mine, I picked up my pace and continued my punishing thrusts as she came undone underneath me. Slowing my thrusts to a lazy pace, I felt her shudder as she rode out her orgasm. I rotated my hips in small circles to make her orgasm last as long as possible until her body collapsed undermine in sated, boneless heap.
“Did you come too baby?” she asked breathlessly in my ear. I kissed her neck and placed one chaste kiss on her swollen and well-ravaged mouth.
“Of course, I did baby, I went over the same time you did,” I whispered as I trailed, feather lite kisses down her chest, down to each breast. With one loud kiss to each nipple, I pulled out and turned from the bed toward the bathroom.
I strode into the elegant bathroom that was probably bigger than my whole living room back home and promptly disposed of the condom. I didn’t have the heart to tell Sylvia that I hadn’t actually cum that time. Sylvia always paid for all night, so this was the fourth time we’d had sex since we had met for dinner at six earlier that evening. After she insisted on giving me a blowjob from under the table in Nobu. I tried to talk her out of it and even sought to stop her before I came in her mouth. However, she had just sucked harder until she had drained me, so while I had enjoyed the sex after, I hadn’t really gotten excited enough to cum again.
That was nothing against Sylvia of course. She was a wonderful, successful, funny middle-aged woman from California and I enjoyed her body and our time together. However, while I loved having sex with women, making them smile, being their darkest fantasy come to life, I didn’t always cum more than once. This didn’t bother me because this was not about how many times I got off, this was about making this woman feel hot, wanted, special, cherished, and sexy. I would never tell another man this but just giving that to a woman was almost more satisfying than having an orgasm. Hey, I’m a guy, and I did say almost because that blowjob in a crowded restaurant where anyone could have discovered her under the white linen tablecloth, was HOT!
Washing my hands and face, I grabbed a washcloth, ran it under warm water, and returned to my lady for the evening. It was approaching three in the morning, and I was still tired from flying in late last night to make this last minute “date” with Sylvia.
“You are so considerate, Matt.” She cooed as I cleaned between her legs. It was all part of what I did for my clients. I wanted to be the man that attended their needs, put them first and always made them feel like they were more than just a client to me.
Walking to the small wet-bar, I grabbed two small bottles of water, which would probably cost her $20 bucks, and handed her one. She smiled at me as she reached for the bottle. Holding it just out of reach, I put one bottle on the nightstand and laid her back against the crisp, white sheets. Kissing her mouth, she sighed as her body relaxed. I put my fingers on her eyelids, and she closed them. I rubbed the pad of my index finger along her bottom lips until her mouth parted. I took a long drink from the water bottle and gently put my lips to hers and released a steady stream of cold water into her parched mouth. Sylvia raised her head to suckle greedily from my mouth, all the
while making moaning noises. Once she had sucked all the water from my mouth, she laid back and smiled at me.
“Matt, have you ever dated one of your clients?” She asked as I got up from the bed and pulled on my boxers. I kept my smile in place as I climbed into bed next to her and looped my arm around her waist. She sighed again as I pulled her naked body against mine. Spooning was something I really enjoyed, I loved sleeping with a woman in my arms, listening to them breathe softly.
She knew I was purposely not answering her question, I found it best to try to dodge answering in these cases.
“Matt?” She pushed. So much for dodging.
“No baby, I don’t date clients, when I’m with you, I belong to you, and you have my complete attention. That has to be enough baby,” I whispered as I stroked her breast, hoping to distract her from the coldness of my words.
It was the hardest part of being an escort. Many women got so lost in the hours we spend together, that they hoped it would lead to more. The problem with being a fantasy was that it could never spill over into the real world. I could never be this overly attentive, doting, fantasy man in real life, not for days on end. Like a vacation, fantasy or dream, my time with a client would always, eventually, come to an end and I would move on to another client. I could never date a client of mine; the magic of our time together would be lost. I mean, if you take a fantasy and try to make it real, it would be damaged by the small things that happened in everyday life. Bills, work pressure, kids, jealousy and all of the other complications that go with a relationship.
I don’t have anything against relationships per say, I just prefer to be remembered as their fantasy man that delivered all of their wildest, sexual desires and not as Matt, the man.
Not that Matt, the man, was a terrible catch. Nope, as an account I made a great living, I had a great family, and I was blessed with genes that gave me a huge advantage with the women. However, Matt, the man, was organized, logical and almost anal when it came to neatness, grooming, and work. While I think I have a good sense of humor and am no slouch in the bedroom, apparently, I prefer to keep my fantasy fulfillment side and my logical, accounting side separate from each other.
“I’m your favorite right baby?” Sylvia asked as she drifted off to sleep.
“There’s no one like you, baby,” I replied with my standard answer. Hearing her breathing even out, I let myself drift off to sleep. For some reason, it felt like my responses were becoming harder and harder to say without feeling like I was an asshole.
Ali
“Ms. Daise? I’m sorry did I lose you?” Asked the kind sounding woman on the other end of the line. Sighing, I mentally pulled on my big girl panties and tried to laugh as I answered.
“No, I’m here. I just got…distracted,” I explained trying to figure out how I got in this situation in the first place. “Please go on.” I urged, thinking the easiest thing to do was to get this over with.
“Well, Matt will meet you at the Venetian at six o’ clock this evening. You stated your room number is 2487, and we received your wire for the full $5,000. Basically, Matt will be yours until the following morning,” she finished as if she was checking off a list at the grocery store.
I took a deep breath and tried to remember that this was just like any other assignment. I had been a literary research assistant for Taylor Duke for the past three years. I had answered an ad and after talking on the phone, we had come to an arrangement. Taylor covered all my traveling expenses, and I would fly wherever, whenever and do all of the research for whatever book she was working on. I had asked her why she didn’t investigate these locations herself, and she explained that she didn’t like to travel. Taylor didn’t have to tell me that she liked her privacy. Even though Taylor and I spoke on the phone often and would even meet for lunch when she was in town for a book promotion or something, we never asked about each other’s pasts, and I was grateful. The job was simple, conduct interviews with people that would help lend authenticity to the story, or research historical events or sites to make sure she had the facts straight. I had to admit that some of the places I had traveled to were amazing. I had seen castles in Scotland for her Highlander series, I had spent a week on a ranch in Wyoming learning about Cowboys for her western saga, and now I was in Las Vegas, booking a hot looking male escort for the evening. Why? Taylor had decided to do a series on gigolos. No, wait! Sorry, the girl on the phone, whose name I can’t remember, had corrected me on that verbiage.
She had explained that the hunky men of Archangel were not gigolos or hookers; they were highly skilled, male escorts. She had gone on to tell me that all of them were so good at what they did, that I would forget my own name. I had tried hard not to laugh when she’d said that. Still, Taylor was the one that had sent me the link to the Archangel website and told me to interview the very sexy Matt Wolf. Therefore, here I was finalizing my ‘date’ with Matt Wolf, a man I would have all to myself for one evening.
I glanced down at the website that I had pulled up on my laptop. Standing in his tight, red briefs was the hottest man I had ever seen. He had short black hair and bright green eyes. His dark, perfectly groomed brows only lent to his sexy look, and his long lashes looked hot as hell. And that was only what was above his chest. As I slowly perused down his picture, past his sharp cheekbones, and full lips that were posed in an ‘I’m going to devour you’ smile, I paused. I suddenly felt a like a creeper, even though I tried not to let my eyes roam past those chiseled abs down to the happy trail of dark hair that disappeared down those, lucky, lucky boxers, I couldn’t help but stare. Actually, it was more like gawking, because there was no way that bulge in his briefs was real. I mean seriously, that had to be a pair of socks right? If that bulge were to be believed, then I would be equally horrified and fascinated.
“Ms. Daise?” The girl asked in a tone that let me know that my daydreaming was a source of frustration for her.
“Sorry, call me Sunny,” I told her trying to get into my fake name. Obviously, I wasn’t going to give them my real name. So, as kind of a joke, I had told the woman who sets up all the ‘dates,' that my name was Sunny Daise, like Sunny Days but different. Yeah, it was pretty lame, but it was better than putting the name Alison Collins out there to be forever connected with a hooker. Oops! Sorry….Male Escort!
“Okay Sunny, I just wanted to know if you have any questions for me? Any preferences you would like to pass on, restaurants, sexual positions you prefer or anything you are against doing sexually?”
I almost choked on the sip of water I had just taken.
Cough…cough, “What?...No, no sex,” I wheezed out trying to get my coughing fit under control.
“This is just research for an author I work for, everything Mr. Wolf tells me will be off the record, I won’t use his name in any of the notes, there will be no sex…just talking,” I told her firmly. I needed to make sure we were all on the same page here. There would be no diddling from Mr. Hot Briefs, no way!
I swear the girl on the phone laughed, but since I’m not big on confrontation, I just sat and wait for her to speak, “Of course, well how you spend your time with Mr. Wolf is completely up to you, Ms. Daise.” She smirked; I swear I heard that woman smirking at me through the damn phone line.
Squeezing my cell phone tightly I answered, “Thanks, I’ll remember that, thanks.” I pushed end on my phone and threw it on my hotel bed.
I have to admit the Venetian Hotel is a beautiful resort. However, at three hundred bucks a night, I was glad Taylor was picking up the tab for Mr. Wolf’s fee and this room. Mainly because I would never pay this much for a room for myself. Anything that didn’t go for bills and basics all went into my Animal Sanctuary. Thinking of that reminded me of my animals back home, I knew they were in good hands with my ranch manager, Trevor Phelps, but I still missed them. Part of me wanted to make the hour drive back home to Mt. Charleston and check on everyone, but I knew I only had one night here and then I could take time off and do som
e repairs around the sanctuary that were desperately needed.
It wasn’t a swanky lifestyle, but it was one I had grown up in. My father was a military general in the Navy and was visiting an Embassy in South Africa when he met my mother. Mom was amazing; she was the head Vet for the Wild Life Refuge that was run by the South African government. My father used to say that he saw her approach an adult, male lion with a gunshot wound to his paw and mom didn’t even flinch when the wounded lion roared at her. Dad had raised his gun, ready to defend the crazy woman who had seemingly come out of nowhere, but she had held up her hand to my father to stop him. She approached the lion and instead of biting her hand off, the animal set on the ground and let her tranquilize him. Once he was sedated, she removed the bullet from his paw and stayed with him until he roused from the sleeping meds.
The people at the Refuge and in the surrounding tribes thought my mother was the best kind of magical witch. Animals of all sorts seemed to trust her or realize that she wasn’t going to harm them. The bedtime version of the story goes on to have my father fall in love with her; he left the Navy when his term was up, and they moved to Las Vegas. Why Vegas? My mother had been offered the opportunity to handle all of the care for the animals that performed on the strip. About twenty years ago, Tigers both white and otherwise were used in many of the headliner shows in Las Vegas. My mother cared for them, and when I was old enough to help, I did too.
It was kind of strange to know that my play dates were with lion cubs or baby tigers. I didn’t get how different my life was until I started attending school. Kids made fun of me because my jeans were always dusty and my dark hair was always pulled back in some crappy ponytail. I didn’t care, though, I did my homework lying back on Nala, an older female lioness’s back, and Baloo, a huge grizzly bear, would play tag with me in the enclosures where the animals were kept.
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