Always and Neverbynerd4music©
Author's Note: I'M BACK! Here's my latest. It's a one shot thing, so enjoy. This one took me awhile. It was very emotional to write, and perhaps a bit too honest for the period I was going through. You might call this story my therapy. It certainly saved me from writing harsh words to a certain someone. You know who you are. Enjoy, and thanks for being so patient. You guys rock my world. It was all the emails with the kind words and 'where the hell are yous' that kept me from giving up writing altogether. Truly, you all inspire me. With love, n4m.
She was daydreaming again. Her back was to the door, looking out at the paneled glass window. She could hear the noise of the city below, the honk of cars, the voices of people going about their daily activities. Yes, she could hear it, but she wasn't really listening. For the third time in the last twenty minutes, her mind was wandering. Her overactive imagination was once again focused on only one thing: him.
"Hey, are you alright?"
The trance was broken, and she snapped to attention. "What?" She stared at the girl standing in her eye line. She couldn't have been more than twenty-two and dressed in that bohemian indie fashion that was so popular with today's youth. She couldn't understand what was with kids today, dressing like bag ladies and hobos. The girl bit her lip, uncomfortable with the scrutiny and shifted from one yellow ballet flat covered foot to the other.
The woman smiled. She wasn't much older than her assistant, but twenty-seven felt like a lifetime. The girl ran a pale hand through her dark hair, cut in a pixie-like fashion with long bangs that swept low into her heavily lined cobalt colored eyes. The woman supposed she would have been a beauty if it wasn't for the eight pounds of black eye liner and buckets of lip gloss. Girls today. Didn't know fuck-all about makeup.
"I'm sorry Laura," the woman said. "I was just day dreaming." She noticed the girl's face light up at the sound of her name. From the looks of it, it appeared she believed no one in the office knew who she was.
"It's okay. I just came in to let relay a message. Your three o'clock appointment with the Robertson couple is canceled and Mrs. Torres said she'll see you for dinner tonight."
She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She thought he would have at least left her a message. A sentence, anything. "Thanks Laura. Tell Lucia...I mean, Mrs. Torres that I'll see her at Tuscany's. Seven o'clock."
Laura nodded her head. "Okay, will do." She walked briskly to the door before whipping around, snapping her thin fingers. "Oh I totally forgot. There was another message."
Her heart skipped and her throat suddenly felt dry. "Oh really? Who from?" She hoped her voice sounded normal.
The girl's nose wrinkled in concentration. "Shit, I can't remember. But I do know what the message said. Today at one-thirty, the usual place."
The flutter in her chest picked up its pace. It was him. She felt foolish for getting so worked up but she couldn't help it. He needed to see her. Pulling herself together, she calmly eyed her assistant. "Thank you, Laura. I'm going to take the rest of the day off. You should too."
Laura smiled, happy she could leave to return home to her guitar. "Wow, that's awesome. Do you need anything else before I go?"
A little bit of fucking willpower, she thought silently. "No. That'll be all."
Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, her brown knuckles turning several shades lighter as slender fingers wrapped snug around the leather. Caramel eyes with tiny flecks of green stared blankly ahead, focusing on nothing in particular.
This is the last time, she thought. The last time. The last time. She repeated those words over and over again, the syllables becoming foreign in her brain. Maybe the more she thought it, the more real it would be.
Maybe then, she'd actually believe it.
A long, low sigh filled the expansive silence of the car. She was supposed to be strong. It wasn't supposed to be this way. She was a modern woman; Miss Independent. She knew how to take care of herself, never needed a man for much. So why then, why was it possible for him to reduce her to a quivering romance novel cliché? What kind of woman was she, letting him use her like a common whore time and again?
A woman who secretly loves it, she thought. Yes, she loved it. She loved that he made her feel reckless, exalted in the sensations his cock made as he plunged mercilessly into her pussy. She adored the delicious dirtiness she felt every time she slid her lips on his member, slick with her juices and she secretly smiled at the taste of her on him.
She was his to use as he pleased. And he took full advantage of it.
Her thoughts turned to the first time she met him...
The Cloverleaf Theatre was packed for the 10 o'clock premiere showing of the latest scary movie. As a horror movie buff, she was pretty excited; the film received rave reviews and she was amped for the carnage. There was only one problem. Lucia, her business partner and best friend was currently running a good ten minutes late.
She checked her watch anxiously; it was 9:55. She checked her phone but didn't see a missed call. Dammit Lucia, she cursed silently. She hated when people were late, especially when it involved movies or restaurants. She couldn't bear the idea of other people thinking she was eating or watching a movie alone. Lucia wasn't a huge horror fan, but one of her favorite television actors was in starring in the movie so she decided to give it a go.
The lights in the theatre flickered, and people started to take their seats.. Huffing loudly, she opened her phone once more and typed a quick text. "Where Are You? Show's about to start."
She bit down on her bottom lip, a nervous habit since childhood. When her phone buzzed loudly, she picked it up quickly. "Sorry babe. Maria's got chicken pox. Gotta take her to the emergency room."
Perfect. Now she'd have to watch the movie alone. She folded her arms and tried not to let her irritation mar the movie experience.
"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"
Glancing up, she connected with a pair of smoldering eyes. They were an odd hue, a nebulous mixture of green and brown. It was a scintillating pond color that made her curious.
She realized she was staring and averted her eyes. She tried to ignore the blush heating her cheeks.
"Seriously, is this seat taken?"
"I'm sorry. Excuse my rudeness. Please sit down." She moved her purse from the chair and settled it on her lap.
He gave her a grateful smile and sat down. "Packed in here tonight, isn't it? Who knew so many people wanted to see a remake of an already great horror film?"
She turned to him and was once more captivated by those alluring eyes. He was devastatingly handsome. She had heard that phrase in an old movie when she was ten and it stuck with her. It seemed like the ultimate compliment for a man's looks. There was gorgeous, and hot, but nothing compared to a devastatingly handsome man.
"Are you a fan of horror movies?" she asked.
"Since I was a kid. The Evil Dead series was my favorite."
"And what was yours?"
He arched a slender dark brown in surprise and she couldn't help but notice how perfectly proportioned his looks were. His jaw was strong and angular, giving him a forceful appearance. His bottom lip was plump and his upper was a perfect bow that curved in an almost impish fashion when he spoke. This one was cocky.
"Rosemary's Baby? An innocent woman corrupted by Lucifer. That's a surprising choice."
"It scared the hell out of me when I was younger," she said. "The thought of your body being taken over by such an evil presence and being powerless to stop it. It's like a total loss of control of one's identity."
His gaze darkened, and she couldn't help the shudder that traveled up her spine. Something about his stare...it was unnerving and yet she couldn't look away.
"Interesting you view it that way. But see, I don't believe Rosemary was as innocent as you think. There was a part of her that was clearly intrigued by the dark side." He leaned in closer, and she could smell his cologne. It was a decidedly manly scent with a hint of lemon.
Her fingers tingled and she felt a sudden urge to reach out and stroke his chin. His lips curled into a smile, as if he could read her thoughts. She felt the warm touch of his skin when his fingers brushed against her bare arm. "Rosemary could play innocent all she wanted, but in the end, she had to follow her instincts and succumb. Not because she was forced, but because she desired it."
Her breathing became labored as his fingers gripped her arm, the soft caramel skin practically burning from his touch. The theater lights dimmed fully and in the glow of the movie screen, his murky green eyes shone most brilliantly. "Sooner or later, we always give in to the dark."
The sound of her cell phone, ringing idily in the passenger seat moved the thoughts of him out of her mind. Absently, she picked up the phone and stared at the ID. Of course it was him. She flipped the phone open and pressed the piece to her ear.
"I see you," he said quietly. Her body pulsed hungrily at the sound of his voice, the timbre so low and masculine. The man simply smoldered; he had the power to soak her panties just with a few words. Another reason to stick around.
She was silent; a small part of her hoped if she was quiet enough he would hang up, thus giving her the leverage to leave.
But she knew that wasn't going to happen. He wouldn't have to say a word, and she would still comply. He would get what he wanted; he always did.
"Why are you sitting in the car? Come in here."
She could hear his breath catch in his throat. He was already stroking himself. He loved to do that while on the phone with her. The rare times he called her at work, she would imagine him seated in his high-rise office, pants undone, a ragged breath coming out slight and sharp as he fondled his balls, demanding she tell her plans for him the next time they were together. She loved to hear him come; she knew every note by heart: the growls, the rumbling tenor, the sigh of complete satisfaction as his hot seed spilled inside her.
It was addictive, a source of womanly pride knowing that he got hard from her touch, or from the sight of her. A hard dick from a good looking man was the equivalent of a pat on the back; a job well done.
"Baby," she heard him moan and her hips rocked involuntarily at the sound. Traitorous body. "Come inside, please. Don't make me beg."
She could hear the slight edge in his soft words. It was all an act. He would make her pay, this she knew. His love came like a two-sided coin; soft and sensuous and rough and deep. She loved it all.
Yes, despite everything she loved the way he treated her. It made her feel like those college nights all over again, when she drove around at three in the morning, music blaring through the speakers of her Jeep Cherokee. Those nights, with nothing but burger wrappers, endless cups of cappuccino, digital cameras, and best friends...those nights she felt reckless and wanton.
That same feeling, that realization of knowing she was alive, here and now, she felt the same way when she was with him. Those few hours she spent writhing underneath him as he ripped furious pleasure from her body meant so much to her.
She would give in.
She always did.
The lights in the theater slowly came on as the credits started to roll. She stood up and stretched, yawning slightly. Definitely a good movie. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the man watching her. Actually to be specific he was watching as her red silk halter top rose with her movements, giving him a glimpse of the taut bronze skin hidden underneath.
His eyes flared, the murky green shining even more so. The tip of his pink tongue darted out quickly, wetting his kissable lips and she swore a feral grin followed after. The way he looked at her, it was intimate, as if he already knew what she tasted like. It was positively possessive.
"Did you enjoy the film?" he asked calmly.
She nodded. "I did. The ending was a bit typical, especially for today's Hollywood. Is it possible to see anyone survive in a horror movie anymore? What is with these grim endings?"
He grinned at her, lips pulling over white teeth and it sent a shiver down her spine. Dammit, this man was trouble. That grin, the way his eyes seem to glow...he was too sexy for words. "It makes it a bit more realistic don't you think?"
She shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "I suppose." Reaching down, she grabbed for her black Balenciaga bag. "Well, I should get out of here. I think they want to clean up," she said as she eyed the trio of bored teenagers wearing bright blue vests and bow ties. They were holding brooms and butlers and shooting them impatient glances.
She hadn't realized when everyone left. They were the only two in the theater. The credits stopped rolling and the lights were fully on. She wondered where the time went.
He stood up, cracking his knuckles. She finally took all of him in. He was tall and broad shouldered, wearing a t-shirt with a long v-neck, the color a deep azure that showcased a well-defined collarbone.
His dark denim jeans were clearly top of the line, slung low on his hips in an almost model-like fashion. She looked down at his feet' he was wearing flat boots with a square toe; she could tell right off he was definitely designer.
His rags, coupled with that intoxicating and manly cologne was sending her body into a frenzy. When she looked into his eyes, she saw her reflection. He had been watching her peruse his body and she felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry," she said.
"Don't be. Do you want to go for drinks?"
His blunt tone surprised her. No pick up line, just straight to the point. It was unnerving, yet refreshing. Still, there was something...sinister about his motives. As an advertising rep, she spent the majority of her days reading people and their faces. She could usually pinpoint a person after five minutes of a first meeting. But him, he was different.
He was unpredictable.
She couldn't resist that. "Okay," she said.
His smile was brilliant. "Perfect. I know just the place." He got to his feet and shouldered into a dark blue blazer. Holding his arm out, he turned to face her. His eyes, dammit she thought.
Oh yeah, he was definitely trouble.
"You look great in red."
She followed him to the place in her car, her hands trembling a little as she gripped the wheel. It was the thrill of utter excitement, the joy of the unknown. She had never done something like this before, never picked up a man at a movie theater. The movies were where established couples when on dates; it was definitely not a singles bar.
Plus, there was that whole slightly baleful thing he had going on. She couldn't put her finger on it, but he seemed a little devious. She'd have to listen to the clues.
His car, a black vintage Porsche turned into the parking lot of a place that screamed top shelf. The building was one story and brick front. A cobblestone walkway led up to a large oak door that looked heavy. The place resembled someone's home more than a bar.
She pulled her raspberry colored Cadillac CTS into the empty space next to his. He was out already, leaning casually against his gorgeous car. She should have known by his clothes he would drive a car like that.
"Where's the Aston Martin," she said, half-joking.
He stared at her, lips turned up in amusement.
"In the garage next to my vintage Harley. I thought it would be too ostentatious for a night at the movies."
"Somehow I don't think you're joking."
His hand reached out, fingers stroking her cheek softly and she couldn't help but nuzzle into his touch. "Smart girl," he said, the same quiet forcefulness in his tone.
Once inside, she noticed her initial assumptions about the place were correct. The interior décor was exactly like a low-key but very pricey bar in some rich person's home. Circular wooden tables made of heavy oak were scattered all around the large room with wing-backed chairs striped cream, burgundy, gold, and navy in front.
One entire wall of the room was covered by a large highly polished wooden counter that served as the bar. There was one long row of stools covered in the same striped pattern cushion that matched the chairs.
This place screamed expensive, she thought. The lighting was pleasant, bright but not too bright. He led her over to a secluded area, sitting down on a large leather Chesterfield sofa near a giant fireplace.
"Do you have a drink preference?" he asked. He snapped his fingers and it seemed a tie-clad waiter appeared instantly.
"Anything but vodka. Had a bad experience in undergrad." She wrapped her white summer cardigan around her shoulders as she crossed her legs.
He smiled at the waiter. "Two Warm Apple pies," he said.
"Right away, sir. Should I put it on your tab?"
"Please." He waited until the server left before he turned back to her. "So how do you like the place?"
"Um, it's a little austere for my tastes." She chided herself, wishing she would stop speaking before thinking. He must think me uncouth, she thought.
Instead of being insulted, his head threw back into the most humorously sensual laugh she'd ever heard. The sound of his deep baritone sent an excited tingle down her spine. "Don't worry, gorgeous. I'm not offended. Although I should be, since I own the place."
Her cheeks flushed. "Oh now I feel worse. I apologize."
His hand rested on hers. "No need. It is a bit stuffy. It was one of the places my father built over four years ago. It's in dire need of an update, but he liked it so much I wanted to keep it the same. Before he built this, it was nothing but an empty car lot."
She noticed the accent, the lazy way he said certain vowels. "Originally from the Northeast?"
He nodded. "Picked up on the accent, huh?"
"It is quite noticeable."She paused for a moment.
"Wait a minute. Aren't you..."
"Yes," he said quickly, cutting off her sentence.
"How did you figure it out?"
"You own this building, and come from the Northeast. There's only one prominent family like that around here."
His gaze was penetrating, and it was almost unnerving. He was so intense; it almost made her uncomfortable. "Well, you know a little about me. Now tell me something about you. I'll spare you the tired cliché of 'what's a pretty girl like you doing at the movies all by herself'. That shit never works."
She smiled. His blunt demeanor was really impressive. "I run my own advertising firm."
"Ahh, beautiful and smart. I like it already. So Miss Independent, what do you do for fun, besides make commercials and watch horror films?"
She giggled, running her slender fingers through her hair. He was making her feel like a damn schoolgirl. "Apparently I let strange men pick me up at the movies and whisk me away to overly shmancy bars."
"Well, I saw you were a woman of fine taste. A creature like you couldn't be wasted on some back alley dive bar or some trendy scene place."
She smiled as the waiter returned with their drinks. "What a strange compliment," she said as the young man set down the tall pewter mugs in front of them. Her hazel eyes stared at him curiously. "What in the world is this? Mead?"
He laughed. "Ahh, milady. 'Tis not what you imagine. Take a sip."
She grasped the mug, the liquid making the pewter cozily warm in her soft hands. There was a little bit of steam wafting from the top, mingling with the delicious scent of something apple. She took a minute sip, letting the warm concoction slide down her throat before letting out a slight moan. Licking her full lips, she partook again this time sipping generously. It was like being wrapped in an old cashmere blanket, sensuous and familiar. It warmed her all over.