Matchmaker 04: April

"I just do."

"But why?"

"Because I've never felt like this about anyone before," I growled, my orgasm stalking me again.

She moaned softly and took my lips. "It's not the fucking?" she gasped as the kiss dissolved.

"Not just the fucking!" I was losing my battle with pleasure as I fucked her hard and fast. "Shit, you sexy bitch! You're going to make me come!" It was so hard to think as I battled my rapture. "I want to fuck you, and hold you, and kiss you and have you in my life!"

She moaned deep and hard. "Oh, God, don't stop! You're going to make me fucking come! Tell me why you want me!" she cried softly, her voice strained.

I drove into her as hard and fast as I could, my legs and stomach burning from my effort. "Because I've—Fuck!—I've never felt like this about anybody before!" I snarled, my voice loud and harsh as I tried to hold my orgasm.

"Do you love—" she began but paused, her face twisting in rapture. "I'm coming! You're making me come!"

With her words I lost the grip on my climax. "I can't hold—Shit! Fuck! I'm coming!" I growled before I pulled her lips to mine. I slammed into her, pressing up hard with my legs, lifting her from the bed as I strained in erotic pain, my back arched, grunting hard and loud with every pulse of semen as I emptied myself into her.

I held her tight, every muscle taut, our tongues engaged in an erotic duel as we peaked together, clinging to each other, two becoming one. We relaxed out of our climaxes at the same time as I lowered her to bed, our sighs of completion mingling between us. We kissed again, slowly, tenderly. She pulled back from the kiss and sat up, my cock still inside her. I sat up with her and we wrapped each other up, our bodies pressed together as she sat on me, soaking up the closeness we felt. I knew she'd want to sleep again, but I had to hold her just a moment longer. I held her, my essence slowly leaking out of her and oozing over my balls to make a wet spot. I didn't care. I'd slept in our wet spot before and I would have held her like that forever.

With a slow, deep sigh, she began to disentangle herself. I released her and fell back to the bed. She tipped forward to snuggle into my side.

"Do you really want me to come to Houston with you?" she asked, uncertainty in her tone. "You really do? You didn't just say that in the heat of the moment?"

"I really do."

She sighed. "You know I can't."

"I know no such thing. Sandra Bullock lives here in Texas somewhere. Why can't you?"

She kissed me softly. "It's sweet you want me to, but I just can't."

It was the answer I expected, and I didn't want to ruin our last day together. "Okay. I had to ask. But if you change your mind..."

She nodded slowly, sleep already claiming her. "You'll be the second to know." She stilled, and I thought she'd gone to sleep. "Do love me?" she murmured, her words slow and slurred.

I'd been thinking about it for the last couple of days. "Maybe. I think I'm falling for you."

She sighed again. "That's nice."

I smiled. She'd done this several times before. She was talking, but she wasn't lucid, or as my Dad said, 'the lights are on but nobody's home.' She wouldn't remember this when she woke up. Having a free pass, I asked what I wanted to know, what I had to know.

"Do you love me?" I whispered.

She was quiet for a long time, so long I didn't think she was going to answer. "Maybe," she finally whispered, the word so slurred it took a moment to decipher what she said.

My heart soared with the word. "Do you want to stay with me?"

I waited, but she didn't answer, sleep finally taking her. She'd sleep for a couple of hours and I mentally crossed my fingers, hoping her sleepy mumblings meant I had a chance to convince her. I released a long sigh as sleep tugged at me. I'd planted the seed of the idea. I'd spend the rest of the day nurturing it to help it grow. I smiled as I began to slide into sleep. I might not be able to convince her to stay with me, but she and I would engage in hard and vigorous negotiations before I'd give her up.

"That's great, Tara! Let's take ten and come back for the second song."

I nodded and removed the headphones that allowed me to hear the music. I stepped out of the recording booth. My assistant was standing there, a tight smile on her lips. Angela was good at her job, making sure I was where I was supposed to be, when I was supposed to be, but she reminded me of younger version of my mother in so many ways. She was never happy about anything and she tried to control my life.

I'd been back in L.A. almost a week. Chuck had tried his damnedest to get me to come to Houston, and he'd almost fucked me into it. The day before we parted, we spent the entire day in bed, fucking and sleeping, with a couple of quick meals thrown in to help keep our strength up.

Twice, while fucking the shit out of me, he tried to get me to agree to come to Houston. The first time I thought he was teasing me. The second time I knew he was serious, but he was fucking me so good I was ready to agree to anything so long as he didn't stop. It was by far the sexiest set of discussions I'd ever been involved in.

He never belabored the argument, bringing it up only those two times. It was actually sexy as shit, him using his sexual prowess as a negotiating tactic to try to change my mind. Typically for him, he methodically shot down every argument I made for why I couldn't stay with him. How he could think straight as we were fucking our brains out was beyond me. I felt like a jabbering idiot, trying to argue my point while in the midst of a face melting orgasm as he was doing his damnedest to pound my ass through the bed.

When he'd kissed my goodbye at the airport, he made one final plea. I wanted to take him up on his offer, I desperately wanted to, but I pulled out the WWCD card and forced myself to think logically. I was afraid he would be angry, but he smiled sadly, kissed me gently, and wished me well. He even carried my bag to the plane for me.

As the jet taxied for takeoff, I almost changed my mind. The thought of going back to my life made me wonder if I was doing the right thing. I loved what I did, but Chuck had opened my eyes in so many ways. One person or another had been controlling my life since I was a child, where he'd let me be me and accepted me for who I was.

"What?" I asked.

"You received another text form that Texas guy. You need to—"

"Let me see," I said, pulling my phone from her hand.

Angela handled my phone, screening my calls and responding on my behalf on all my social media accounts. She kept me informed of what was happening on my feeds, I'd give her my thoughts, and she would respond as me. She functioned as my innermost gatekeeper, handling my routine calls, cleaning up my responses, or advising me against saying certain things to minimize or prevent the fuck ups so many people had on social media.

Chuck had been sending me two or three texts a day, sprinkled with an occasional phone call. This was his first text of the day. It was short, simple, and to the point. Missing our breakfasts together, the text read, with a picture following immediately afterwards that showed a plate with eggs, bacon, and a cup of coffee.

I smiled as I began to type, my thumbs dancing over the screen. I saw Angela stiffen out of the corner of my eye. She hated when I didn't clear my responses with her, probably because she knew she'd be the one who had to clean up any mess I made, but this was Chuck. He knew me better than anyone, and I knew anything I said to him would stay between the two of us. So fuck her. I didn't need Ms. Busybody to help me with this.

I miss our breakfasts together too. My smile spread and I began to type again. Especially the starter course.

I held the phone, willing it to buzz, but it remained silent. It was two in Texas, so he was probably working. I handed the phone back to Angela. She glanced at my response and her lips thinned even more.

"I don't know why you keep talking to this guy."

"It's none of your business. Just do your job."

"I'm trying to do my job, but you're not making it easy." She scowled. "What do you think will happen if it gets out you had a month-long fling with some backwoods, hillbilly redneck? What if he makes public some of the shit you've said to him? Do you know what that—"

I was incandescent with fury in snap of a finger. "What did you say?" I asked, my tone low and dangerous.

"I was going to say if word gets out about this month-long fling you had, it will significantly impact your image."

Angela wasn't stupid, and she could tell if she'd repeated exactly what she'd said the first time I'd have verbally ripped her head off and shoved it up her ass. "And why's that?" I asked, forcing my voice to be calm and reasonable. "You didn't have a problem with me dating other guys."

Before my trip to Texas, I wouldn't have thought twice about what she said, but even if it had made me mad, I would have flown into a rage, shouting and screaming until I got my way. I would have acted like a child throwing a tantrum. I hadn't mastered the unflappable coolness Chuck had, but I was at least learning to control my outbursts. He'd been good for me on so many levels.

"Because they were good for your image. Tom Herald, Gregory Watson, Ian Westercott. Not some guy named Chuck from Texas that nobody has ever heard of who builds houses, for God's sake." She rolled her eyes. "Who names their kid Chuck?"

I fumed. Ian and Greg were singers, Tom a professional baseball player, and there had been others. But none of the men were half the man Chuck was. They were all self-centered assholes, probably dating me for the same reason I'd dated them. It looked good to our fans, not because we cared about each other or were compatible.

"You listen to me!" I snapped as I stepped in closer and pointed my finger at her nose. Angela was three or four inches taller than me, but I didn't care. "If you ever say anything like that about Mr. Dalmer again, you're fired! Got it?"

"You hired me to—"

"I hired you to manage my image, not my fucking life!" The sound engineer guy appeared, pausing at the door, perhaps sensing he might not want to get between us at the moment. "We're busy!" I said as I stomped to the door and slammed it shut. I turned back to Angela. "If you can't follow my instructions, I'll find someone who will."

She stared at me for a long moment. "Yes, Ms. Reyes."

I softened. "That's better."

"I don't know what you see in this guy. You've changed since you got back."

"Maybe because I finally figured out what's important."

"This is important! Not being moon-eyed over some redneck that—"

I snatched my phone from her hand. "That's it! You're fired! Get out!" I snarled, pointing the door.

She stood in slack jawed amazement. "For what?"

"What did I just tell you?"

"I didn't say anything!"

"You called him a redneck! I'll have—"

"So? You've said the same thing a hundred times, and they are bunch of rednecks!"

My fury had been cooling, but it returned with a vengeance. "And you're nothing but a stupid bitch that has no idea what life outside your little bubble is like! Let me tell you something. After spending a month in Texas, I think I like them better than most of the people I've met here in L.A. You included. The fact you called Chuck a redneck proves you have no fucking idea what you're talking about."

Her eyes hardened. "How dare you!"

"How dare I? I used to be just like you. A pretentious bitch that had no fucking clue. That's how I dare."

"You're making a mistake."

"Maybe, but it's mine to make. There's going to be some changes around here."

She began to shake her head, her anger clear on her face. "I don't know what's happened to you. He must have really fucked you good."

I smiled, but there was no humor in it. "He did, but more than that, he opened my eyes to the person I was. I was an insufferable, bigoted bitch just like you, and I don't like that person anymore. I'm not that person anymore. Now, get out," I said, pointing at the door again, "before I have you thrown out."

"You're going to regret this," Angela warned as she began gathering her things.

"You know, somehow I doubt it."

It had been a week since I had my 'meltdown,' as the gossip rags called it. I'd fired everyone responsible for 'handling' me with the exception of my agent. I'd also put my house on the market. I'd keep a house in L.A., but I didn't want a sixteen-million-dollar mansion anymore. A million-dollar house in some nice neighborhood would suit me fine since it was going to become my second home.

I'd finished my recordings for the movie, and in two weeks I was supposed to report to Willington, North Carolina, to begin rehearsal. In these two weeks, I had a lot to accomplish.

I'd already practiced my acting a little by contacting Dalmer Custom Homes and pretending to be a potential client. The woman I spoke to wanted to setup an appointment for Henry Dalmer, Chuck's father, to contact me. I finally convinced her to tell me where Hank was working. I knew that Chuck and his dad worked together, so where I found Hank I'd probably find Chuck.

I'd said nothing to Chuck. I dropped hints now and again during our conversations and texts that I hadn't forgotten he'd asked me to move to Houston. I was trying to gauge if he was still interested in my joining him or if he'd changed his mind. He still seemed as enthusiastic about the idea as he had when he was trying to fuck me into changing my mind.

I pulled my rented Aston Martin to a stop, parking it directly behind the giant white Ford I was so familiar with. I stepped out of the car and tiptoed across the barren ground. The site was a hive of activity.

"Excuse me!" I said, flagging down a man driving a forklift with concrete blocks on it.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Charles Dalmer. Do you know where I can find him?" I called to be heard over the busy sounds of excavators and nail guns.

"I haven't seen him." The man glanced around. "I'd try the guest house," he added, pointing to a more complete, though smaller house, set off to the side of the mansion being erected in the center of the lot.

"Thanks."

"Are you the owner?"

"No, sorry."

"Okay. Seems like I've seen you somewhere before."

I smiled. "I doubt it. This is my first time in Houston."

The man nodded and waved with a smile before driving away, the machine's diesel engine roaring.

I walked around piles of construction materials and dodged workers. Everyone was watching me even though I'd dressed down, wearing pants, a breezy blouse, and sneakers, but I didn't care. I approached the guest house, stepping through the opening that would become a door. Inside, future rooms were defined by exposed wood, but the only stud I was interested in was nowhere to be seen.

"Hello?" I called.

"In the garage!" I smiled at the sound of Chuck's voice.

I wandered in the direction I'd heard his voice, carefully stepping down the temporary steps into the one car garage. Chuck was standing in the corner, a forest of wires jutting from a metal box mounted between two of the studs. He cut a wire to length and stripped the outer casing from it with practiced ease. He was dressed in jeans, work boots, and a bright red, short sleeved pullover. I couldn't explain why, but the toolbelt hanging on his hips made him impossibly sexy. I vividly remembered what was under that shirt, and if he were bare chested, he could easily be one of those tradesmen calendar guys that women salivated over.

He must have sensed my presence because he turned. "What can I do for... Tara? I thought you were in L.A. What are you doing here?" he asked, his eyes opening wide.

I'd broke into a smile the moment I saw him, but seeing his surprise made me beam. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed him until this very moment.

"I was."

"Why didn't you say something? I'd have picked you up at the airport."

"I wanted to surprise you." He stared at me as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. My smile spread impossibly wide, so wide it hurt my face. "Are you going to come kiss me or are you just going to stand there?"

He quickly closed the distance between us, picked me up in his arms, and devoured me before he returned me to my feet. It was good thing he'd stopped when he did. Another fifteen seconds of a kiss like that and we'd give the rest of the crew something to look at besides me as we fucked right there in front of them.

"What are you doing here?"

"You invited me, remember?"

He was quiet for a long moment. "Does that mean...?"

I smiled as I shrugged. "Depends. I need a place to live. Know anyone who can build me a house?"

He smiled. "I hear there's a pretty good guy in Dallas."

I snickered at his teasing. "Maybe I'll give him a call. But I'll need a place to stay until it's done. Any suggestions?"

"I might know a place."

I softened. "I have to know. Is this what you want? Is it really what you want?"

"Yes, but only if it's what you want."

I swallowed hard. I'd been thinking of nothing else for a week. I'd never been surer of anything. "I'm sure."

He bent and kissed me again, more softly this time. "When can you move?"

I glanced though the opening into the garage. People were beginning to gather around to see who the boss was talking to. And kissing.

"I have to go to Willington for three months, but I thought I'd return here. If that's okay?"

He smiled, touching my face. I tipped my head into his caress. "If it can't be sooner, then I'll take it."

I smiled. "I have two weeks. I thought I'd spend them here. How long until you get off?"

"That depends on how long it's been since I've seen you."

I snickered. "Then I think we should start a timer to see how long it takes tonight." I was almost giddy with excitement, not only from the idea of feeling him inside me again, but for our future. "Seriously, how long?"

He unsnapped his tool belt. "I just finished for the day."

My desire for him was already ramping up. "We have a lot to discuss."

"Then we should get started."

I reached behind his head and pulled his lips close. "Naked?" Let the guys watch. I didn't care.

He smiled. "Is there any other way?" he asked, calling back my words from a month ago as he covered my lips with his.

"Hello?"

"Tara Reyes, please," I said.

"This is her."

I was surprised she answered the phone. It was the first time I didn't have to go through her assistant. "Ms. Reyes, this is Brooklyn Lancaster. How are you today?"

"Brooklyn! So good to hear from you! I'm doing great! How are you?"

I smiled. Tara sounded like another happy client. "I'm doing well. Anything else I can do for you?"

"No. I think you've done enough, and I mean that in the best possible way."

"You were satisfied with Charles as a companion?"

"Oh my God, Brooklyn! Did you ever meet him?"

I smiled. The girl was gushing. "Yes, once."

"And you have to ask?" She twittered out a laugh. "He's perfect. Better than perfect."

I nodded. "Good. I'm glad you're happy with my services."

"More than happy, Brooklyn. I'm ecstatic."

"Are you and Charles still seeing each other?"

"Yes, when we can. This movie thing has been interfering."

"Movie thing?" I asked in confusion.

"We're seeing each other when we can, but I'm in North Carolina doing some reshoots for a movie. When I'm done here, I'm going home. Chuck has found me a house near where he lives. I've made an offer and the buyer accepted. As soon as it closes, he and his dad are going to start renovating it for me. I'll be staying with Chuck until they complete all the work. He said it would take about two months to complete. It's a small place, only three thousand square feet, but it'll do until we're sure of what we're doing."