Matchmaker 10: October

I rolled my eyes. "I can't think of a worse job. Can you imagine sitting in a car all day in the hopes that we'll drive past, knowing if you leave to get something to eat or to use bathroom you could miss us?"

He smiled. He had a terrific smile, as befitting a movie star, but this smile was a little different. It was more like his bedroom smile and less like the one he normally used when in public. "Yeah. Their car is probably full of empty sandwich wrappers and Gatorade bottles full of pee."

"Yuck," I grimaced, my face scrunching in disgust. "That's a mental image I didn't need."

He snickered. "It has to go somewhere."

I stuck my tongue out in disgust and began prodding my forehead with my pointer finger. "Blech. Maybe, but now I have to poke out my mind's eye." He snickered as I took another sip of my wine, forcing my face to remain neutral. If this was a dessert wine and was supposed to be very sweet, I wasn't looking forward to a dry wine. I placed the glass aside. "Are you ready to go?"

"If you are."

"I am."

He paid before he escorted me out, gently steering me in the direction of his car. I pulled my cloak tighter around me to ward off the chill as we slowly strolled, our arms intertwined. My legs were still cold, but the rest of me was pleasantly warm as I snuggled into his side. Try as I might, I couldn't prevent myself from looking around, but I saw no cameras or people. Maybe Mr. Snappy McAsshole had given up and gone home because it was too dark to take pictures.

He opened the door for me, but before I settled into the car, he took my lips in an easy kiss. I stiffened as our lips touched, suddenly self-conscious. He slowly drew back.

"Relax," he breathed, his lips so close to mine I could feel the warmth of his breath.

"What if someone's watching?" I whispered in return.

"If it's a guy, they'll be jealous over the woman I'm kissing," he rumbled as his lips closed over mine again.

He had to work at it, but he overcame my hesitation and reluctance, and I fell into the kiss, my arms going around his neck to pull him in.

"Or if it's a woman, the man," I whispered as I tried to gather the breath I'd lost to the kiss.

"That's better," he whispered.

I didn't wear many dresses, preferring jeans and a shirt, and the leather was shockingly cold on my legs when I settled into the car. It would soon be November, and there was a significant chill in the air. Once he started the car, the heated seats would quickly warm me, but until then, the warmth of the kiss would have to hold me.

He flopped into the car, started it, and immediately flipped on the heater for my seat. I sighed as the seat's warmth began to leech the chill from my body. He pulled away from the curb and programmed the satnav to guide us home. We were meandering through town when he made a sudden left.

"What?" I asked, surprised by the sudden turn.

He watched the rearview mirror as the satnav complained he'd taken a wrong turn. He smiled. "I think someone wants to know where we're going."

I twisted in the seat and looked behind us at the headlights. "Swell."

"Your seatbelt tight?"

I turned forward again and gave it a tug. "Yeah."

"Hang on," he said, the Porsche suddenly yowling as it pressed me hard back into the seat.

"Shit!" I cried softly, the word long and drawn out as the Panamera rocketed along the deserted road, gathering speed at a prodigious rate.

I gripped the center console and door armrest tightly as I pressed both feet into the floorboard. I didn't know how fast we were going, but I knew we were traveling far in excess of the posted or safe speed, and still the car accelerated. Suddenly the car slowed violently, snarling and growling as he downshifted, before he whipped it around a corner, slamming me into the side of my seat before the car howled again. I'd never ridden in a car that could accelerate so hard, stop so brutally, or turn so quickly. The car barked as he switched up another gear, the acceleration unrelenting before he again slowed with stunning efficiency and threw the car around another corner. Three more chest crushing accelerations mingled with two more hard braking turns, and then he slowed to a more reasonable and sedate pace. I jerked on the seatbelt to loosen it.

"I think we lost him," he said as casually as if he'd said the sun was rising.

"Ya think?" I asked, giggling. When he first roared away, the sudden acceleration and speed had scared me, but when I realized I wasn't a heartbeat from death, the racing about had become exciting. Very exciting. "I've got to get me one of these!"

He snickered as he glanced at me. "You liked that?"

"Oh my God, this thing is a real panty dropper."

"Is it now?" he asked, his eyebrows arching and his voice full of mischief.

I reached over and slowly caressed his manhood. "Oh yeah."

The rest of the way home, he dipped deep into the throttle at every opportunity, clicking the shifters on the steering wheel before popping out to pass slower cars, the car wailing like a banshee as we rocketed past traffic with far more violence than necessary. He didn't take chances or drive excessively fast, but when he pulled out to pass, he allowed the car to accelerate harder and longer than he had in town. I had no idea I was a speed junky, but every time he pulled out to pass and the car howled as it squeezed me back in the seat, I wanted to moan in excitement. A Honda could never keep up with the thing.

There were a few snowflakes swirling in the exterior lights of the house as the car rumbled slowly into the garage. When I stepped out of the car, I softly drew my fingers along the hood as we walked into the house. I knew Porsches were expensive cars, but I was shocked when he told me the car we were riding in probably cost close to two hundred thousand dollars, which was almost double what I had paid for my house. So much for the idea of ever owning one.

As we entered the house, I didn't pause, moving through the kitchen and up the steps to our bedroom, Barrett following. I couldn't explain why, but I felt unusually close to him. Perhaps it was his calm, steadying presence as he reassured me there were worse things than someone taking my picture and printing it on the cover of a tabloid magazine, or maybe it was how he looked at me as I tried on this beautiful blue dress, or maybe it was simply the fact he wasn't the same man he was when he arrived three weeks ago.

He'd stopped being an egotistical asshole and had become the charming man I'd seen on the silver screen. I knew it was too soon for him to have truly changed his spots, so that meant the charming man had always been there under the asshole façade, or he was a really good actor. I had a feeling it was the former, but even if it was the latter, he wasn't being a jerk to me anymore, and that was all that mattered to me at the moment.

I turned to him as he entered the bedroom behind me and melted into his arms. He knew what I wanted and pulled me strongly against his body, holding me tight as he took my lips in a slow, gentle kiss. As we kissed, he slipped my cloak from my shoulders before I stepped out of my shoes. He slowly pulled the zipper down the back of my dress, the drawing down of the closure exciting me. I stepped back as our kiss dissolved, his fingers plucking at the dress to cause it to fall from my shoulders. I cringed inside as my six-hundred-dollar cloak and dress puddled in the floor at my feet, but I wouldn't, couldn't, stop now.

When I found out I was going to spend a month with Barrett Quillon, I'd ordered a few racy underthings so I'd have something other than my everyday underwear. I was wearing one of them now, a black lace bra and tanga combination that made me feel sexy. Barrett moved slowly around me, his fingers dragging lightly over my skin, before he stopped behind me, his hands softly cupping my breasts as he kissed my neck. He was an expert at the slow seduction, perhaps learning his skills with the help of Hollywood writers and directors, but however he learned them, he was damned good at it.

He continued to kiss my neck as his hands left my breasts to slide down my stomach, his touch making me want to groan in desire. With his lips still on my neck and with a quick twist of his fingers, my bra loosened, and I turned as my breasts were freed from their lacy prison. He kissed me again, his sharp intake of breath as he did stoking the fires of my passion. He left my lips to explore my neck again, his hands lightly roaming my body, my hand going to the back of his head to hold his lips in place as I began to squirm.

He stepped back and stared at me, the intensity of his gaze making me tingle in anticipation. With a slow smile, he removed his jacket and tie, followed by his shirt. Every time I saw him without his shirt on, my mouth dried and my womanhood wettened. He was so fucking sexy I almost couldn't stand it.

His gaze never wavering from mine, he removed his pants, shoes, and socks. Standing before me in all his male glory, he moved close again, pulling me to him and crushing my breasts against his warm, hard chest as he kissed me fully, his erection trapped between our bodies.

He slowly ended the kiss and began leisurely kissing his way down my body as my breathing became harder and faster. I tried to move, to sidestep him and move to the bed, but he held me in place before gently pushing me back, and then back again, until I was against the wall. He slowly pulled my panties down, allowing me to step out of them before he kissed my most intimate area. I'd never had anyone make love to me anywhere other the bed, with the rare exception of the shower. To have him pin me to the wall as he pleasured me with lips and tongue caused my excitement to rise to new heights.

His tongue flicked and darted, touching me where I wanted to be touched, caressing me where I wanted to be caressed. My head tipped back, bumping softly into the wall behind me as I placed my hands on his head to steady myself. He lifted my left leg and draped it over his shoulder as he moved in closer, his lips and tongue sending waves of erotic energy though me.

He nibbled and kissed, licked and sucked, as he slid his hand up my body to caresses the hard points of my breasts. I was going to come, and come hard. I began gently thrusting at his face, unable to stop the motion, my body overriding my will and taking what it needed. I groaned low and deep as I shuddered, hunching over at the waist as my supporting leg weakened with the power of my climax. I sagged, caught myself, and forced my leg straight again before I sagged a second time, the power of my rapture stealing my strength and coordination.

"Stop... stop... stop!" I whispered, never wanting the pleasure to end, yet desperate to be free of the brain melting torment of his lips and tongue.

He ducked from under my leg. Having both feet on the floor helped, but I was struggling to remain standing. He rose, taking my lips in a torrid kiss as he lifted me. He hitched me up, holding me by my ass, as he pressed me against the wall. I wrapped my arms and legs around him as our tongues danced. He began to probe, his manhood seeking my opening, before causing me to break from the kiss with a gasp as he slid deep into my channel.

With a soft grunt, he began thrusting into me slow and deep. I took his lips in another desperate kiss, moaning softly as he slammed me against the wall again and again, pinning me on his rod like a mounted butterfly. I couldn't breathe! I broke from the kiss with a gasp, struggling to catch my breath. I was going to come again, the exhilaration of him taking me in a new, profoundly exciting way adding fuel to my already raging fires.

I gripped him tight, drawing him into me with all my strength. He began taking me with greater passion, lunging into me harder and faster, his muscles twisting and flexing with the effort of supporting my weight, his soft grunts and pants of passion and effort sending me spiraling out of control.

I moaned hard and loud, my body alive with uncontrolled motion as I quivered through the hardest orgasm of my life, my climax even harder than the brain melting orgasm from our first night together. I thrust at him, needing to feel him deep inside me as much as I needed to breathe. I held him, sucking hard on his neck as I burned with erotic fire, and still he fucked me.

With a final, hard, stabbing thrust, he pinned me to the wall with his cock and allowed me to shudder my way through my climax. As the raging orgasm washed out of me, leaving me swirling and adrift in the backwaters of my pleasure, I was thankful he was holding me, his strength the only thing that prevented me from oozing into a boneless puddle on the floor. As strength slowly seeped back into my body, I pulled his lips to mine for a torrid kiss. I hadn't come three times since our first night together, but he hadn't come yet, and he'd gotten me off to such a fast start tonight I wanted a third orgasm. I wanted it badly.

As he kissed me, his cock still inside me, he peeled me off the wall and carried me to one of the overstuffed leather chairs that occupied the room. He put me down and settled into the chair before taking my hands and drawing me to him as another surge of anticipation rippled through me. I settled over him, wedging my legs in beside his hips as I took him inside me again, the excitement of doing something else new arousing me more than anything ever had. I was definitely going to come again if he could last long enough. I fucked him slowly, sensually, our gazes locked as I rocked my hip, his hands on my breasts as he gently caressed my nipples.

I was beginning to sweat from my effort when his face twisted into an erotic snarl. He was getting close, but my pace was steady. I wanted to give him as much pleasure as possible and not suddenly rush him into finishing. He said nothing, but as I watched him, his eyes slowly opened wider as he stiffened under me, his face hardening as his head tipped rearward and pressed firmly into the back of the chair. Still I fucked him, his display of passion drawing my orgasm closer. I watched his eyes in fascination as his pupils dilated before he grunted softly, his face distorting with pleasure as he splashed into me.

His soft grunt, the sudden tightening of his grip on my breasts, and the incredible wetness I felt brought my rapture close with a rush. I leaned down and kissed him passionately, my hips still rocking slowly on his cock. He grunted again, his sounds of pleasure and erotic pain adding to my heat. He wrapped me up and held me to his chest with rib creaking force as I continued to pleasure myself on his manhood.

With a gasp he forced his lips from mine and buried his face in my neck as his embraced tightened further. "Fuck!" he snarled softly, his voice strained and harsh as he battled his pleasure.

Knowing he was being destroyed by pleasure, pleasure I was giving him, his softly muttered curse was my undoing. With a soft moan, I came, my hips shuddering to a stop. We held each other, our bodies stiff with pleasure until he released a long exhale as he relaxed, my own sigh of contentment following moments later.

This orgasm wasn't nearly as hard as my previous one, but it was deeply satisfying in a way I'd rarely felt. With another sigh, I kissed his lips again, kissing him deeply, passionately, kissing him unlike any man I'd kissed before. We'd sleep and make love again before this night was over, but for now I wanted nothing more than to have him hold me close and tight as I sat on his cock, taking his lips for my own.

I swam up from the darkness of sleep, Lydia's arm flung possessively across my chest as she lay tucked into my side, her slow, rhythmic breathing comforting and relaxing. Something had changed between us the night before. I wasn't sure what had changed, but something had. Two nights ago, Lydia was nothing but a fuck, or so I thought. Last night, however, she wasn't. As she rode me to orgasm in the chair, I realized that for the first time in my life I wasn't fucking a woman, I was making love to her.

It wasn't the act that was different, but how I perceived the act. I'd always tried to please my partners because I had a reputation of being a good lover, a reputation I wanted to preserve so I could bed more women. Last night, however, I wanted to please Lydia not because it was expected or I had something to prove, but because I wanted to give her pleasure. I was taking my pleasure by giving it to her. Perhaps she'd always been that way with me. Maybe that's why our first night together had been so intense. She wasn't taking pleasure, she was giving it. Maybe she'd been that way from the beginning, but I'd been so wrapped up in my own selfish desires I hadn't realized it. Last night, for the first time, as I was rising to my rapture, I was thinking of her pleasure, not my own. As my orgasm began to take me, I didn't think of us as Barrett and Lydia, or me and her, but I thought of us as... us... as one, as two halves of the whole.

It had been a shocking realization as I fought through the exquisite torture of my orgasm, struggling to hold on until she'd reached her own rapture. A month ago, having already given her two hard orgasms, I wouldn't have cared if she climaxed again, but last night I had cared, and since she was so close, I'd resolved to endure until she raptured again, no matter the cost.

After I'd taken her to bed, I spent a long, long time kissing and nuzzling her. We hadn't made love again, but she'd seemed to come alive under my tender kisses as I lay lightly across her, or she lay on my chest, our lips never long removed from each other's flesh.

As the hour grew late and sleep began to drag heavily on us, we'd slipped peacefully into the dark embrace of slumber, the transition from wake to sleep so gentle, so gradual, I hadn't noticed. Last night I'd slept the sleep of angels, having her tucked close, comforting me in ways I'd never felt before, her presence allowing me to fall into a deeper sleep than I could remember experiencing.

I sighed heavily as I snuggled closer. I wanted her. I wanted her desperately, but I wanted more than her body. I wanted her. I wanted to hold her and listen to the whisper of her breath as she breathed deep and slow, to feel her flesh against mine, to inhale her scent of flowers and fruit, to taste her lips, and yes, to feel her surround my manhood as I gave her pleasure. I wanted all that and more. I wanted to see her smile, to hear her laughter, and to feel the warmth of her hand in mine. I wanted all of her, the entirety of her presence.

I breathed deep to drink in her scent, exhaling with a soft sigh. As hard as it was to believe, maybe the editors at American Investigator had seen what I hadn't, what I'd refused to see, that I was kidding myself into believing I wasn't falling for her. As I held her warm and close, the fact I was even contemplating that I was falling in love spoke volumes.

I'd never had a relationship last more than a couple of months. Most of my conquests were no strings attached, one-night stands. Even those that lasted, by the end of the first few weeks I would be getting itchy for my freedom. After that, the longer it continued, the more anxious I was to have my current lover out of my life, but I didn't feel that way about Lydia. Rather than feeling trapped by her presence, I felt anxious by contemplating her leaving.

When my previous relationships ended, I always found a way to blame my lover, but I knew inside I was the one to blame. My lips thinned. For the first time in years I felt a tickle of shame for how I treated people. I was a user, using people for my own gain and my own pleasure. I'd become caught up in the culture of Hollywood where everyone used everyone else, and I'd excelled at the game. I'd started out treating her the same way, but unlike so many, she wouldn't tolerate my poor behavior and had called me on it.