Matchmaker 11: November

I shrugged. "Obviously I'm not going to do it just to try to prove a point, but believe me, I'd rather have someone over a lot of money. You're not going to like hearing this, but you're really not that much different than that guy in the restaurant last week. Remember him?"

"I'm nothing like him!"

"You're more like him than you think. He thought having a lot of money caused problems. You think having a lot of money solves problems. Money is just a tool. In the right hands, it can do a lot of good, in the wrong, a lot of bad. Good or bad, I can tell you this, despite what you think, money can't make you happy. I know."

She held my gaze a moment longer and then looked away. "You don't understand."

"What I understand is I have all this money, yet I can't have the one thing I want."

She looked back at me. "Which is what?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" She nodded. "You. You, or someone like you. That's what I want."

She said nothing for a long moment, her eyes wide. "You want me?"

I nodded. "Yes. You, or someone like you."

"What do you mean?"

"Beautiful, smart, and strong. Someone who won't take no for an answer. Someone who's willing to do what it takes to get what she wants. Most importantly, someone who's sure of who she is. That's what I want."

"And you think I'm that person?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

Her brow wrinkled. "I don't understand."

I held her gaze. "Will you answer one question, just one, with complete honesty?"

"If I can."

"What are you hiding?"

She paled. "Hiding?" she asked, a slight quiver in her voice.

I nodded. "There's something you're not telling me. I'd like to know what it is."

She was quiet for a moment. "Nothing."

"Okay," I said, taking her arm to start her walking again. It was clear she didn't want to tell me, and I wasn't going to force her.

"There's nothing! I swear! I've told you everything! I've answered every question you asked!"

I nodded. "I know. I'm sorry I doubted you."

"Will, there's nothing!"

"I said I believe you. If you say you have nothing to tell me, then I believe you."

We walked in silence for a moment. "There really is nothing."

I pulled her to a stop again and nodded. "Okay. Don't worry about it. I'm sorry I brought it up." I lowered my lips to hers, but something was missing, something that had been there until I asked her to open up to me.

I sighed to myself as our lips parted. I really thought she could be the one, but she was retreating from me, and I didn't know why.

We entered the kitchen after our walk. As we strolled, when Will said he wanted me, I'd felt a surge of elation, but then he'd crushed me with his question. He'd seen right through me. Maybe he'd always known I wasn't the person I was pretending to be. I knew he was perceptive, and though I'd been careful, I'd underestimated him again. He either knew I'd entered into this arrangement under false pretenses, or he suspected.

I'd tried to deny any ulterior motive, but he clearly didn't believe me. Rather than being mad and demanding to know what I was hiding, he backed off and was allowing me to keep my secret. I thought furiously, trying to figure out how to get out of the corner he'd trapped me in. I'd tried to keep up my act, but I was sick to my stomach, and despite my best efforts, I knew the Sage persona I tried to present to him was cracked and damaged.

I was desperate to distract him, to try to salvage something from the train wreck I found myself in. I fell back on what had always worked in the past. As the kitchen door shut behind us, I slowly turned with my best seductress smile on my lips.

"I can't stop thinking about you out there splitting wood with your shirt off," I purred as I slowly unzipped my coat.

He smiled down at me. "Is that so?"

"Mm-hmm," I murmured as I began unbuttoning my shirt.

"And now I'm going to have to engage in some more hard labor?"

"Very hard," I cooed, stepping close.

Leaving my shirt hanging open, I slowly drew my hand along his crotch, his cock already beginning to harden. I'd never been with a man who was so eager to fuck me, yet could keep it up as long as he did. I'd had lovers that were easily excited and ready to go on a moment's notice, and lovers with stamina, but never both in the same man.

He pulled me firmly to his chest, his shockingly cold coat against my skin making me gasp as his lips covered mine. I kissed him furiously, our tongues engaged in an intimate dance as I gripped his manhood firmly. I broke from the kiss and forced myself out of his embrace while tugging on his belt. Belt freed, I quickly opened his pants and reached inside.

He cried out as I gripped him. "Cold hands!" he barked, causing me to giggle.

To make up for my touch, I dropped to my knees and swallowed him, taking him as deep into my mouth as possible as I fought against my gag reflex. His hands landed lightly on the back of my head, gently holding his cock in my mouth until I ran out of breath and had to push back against his gentle press. I sucked in a great lungful of air and thrust myself on his cock again, struggling to take every last millimeter of his manhood. He was larger than most men, and I'd been struggling to take his full length the entire month, but in my desperation, I forced my nose into his crotch. I couldn't hold my gag and quickly backed off with a bubbling retching sound. That was so not sexy! my mind sneered, but I didn't hesitate and swallowed him again.

I was desperate to reel him back in, to make him forget his questions. I bobbed on his cock for a moment as he hissed softly in pleasure. After a moment he hooked me under my arms and pulled me to my feet, kissing me furiously as he began to strip me of my coverings. In a flurry of motion, we violently undressed each other, gasping and growling in growing need. He picked me up and placed me on the kitchen's large center island. The granite countertop was shockingly cold against the bare flesh of my ass, but I didn't care. He stepped between my legs and rammed his cock into me. There was no tenderness, no love, only need.

I wailed with his passage as he began pounding into me furiously. "Come on! Fuck me! Fuck me like a whore!"

It was a game we'd played before, a game I'd played many times, but this time the words hurt. I was a whore. I'd always been a whore and I was one now because I was fucking Will for money. He was a good man, perhaps the best man I'd never been with. He seemed to care about me and demanded nothing, accepting what I was willing to give and asking for nothing more.

He slammed into me hard and fast for a moment before holding his cock deep as he watched my eyes. "Sage? You okay? What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Just fuck me!"

He continued to watch my face. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

"No! Fuck me!" I cried, thrusting my hips to try to get him started again.

He started fucking me again, but the overheated passion of a moment ago was gone. Even as I tried to distract him with my body, he'd proven again he was concerned for me and my wellbeing. Tears threatened.

He stopped thrusting, his face soft as he watched my eyes. "Sage?"

His voice was full of uneasiness. Goddamn him! Why can't he just fuck me like the whore I am! Why does he have to care! "I'm sorry," I murmured as I fought to not cry.

He pulled out of me and stepped back slightly. "Sage? What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" I growled as I used my heels to pull him between my legs again. I grabbed his cock and tried to steer him back inside. He stepped close, but he didn't enter me. He watched me a moment.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing!"

He touched my face with a gentle caress. "Something clearly is." It took every ounce of my self-control to not burst into tears. I shook my head, afraid if I said anything I'd start to cry. "What's wrong? Is it something I did?"

"No, Goddammit!" I snarled. "It's me! It's fucking me!" I ground my teeth, my jaw muscles straining, to fight off the impending tears. "You want to know what's wrong with me? I'm a fucking whore, that's what's wrong with me!"

"What? I don't think you're a whore. Why would you say that?"

I wiped at my right eye before the tear could fall. "You want to know what I'm hiding? I put myself through school by fucking guys, okay? I fucked them for money!" I almost added 'like I'm fucking you,' but I stopped myself before I uttered the words. "That's what I didn't want to tell you."

He held my gaze for a long moment. "So, the working and scholarships, that was a lie?" he asked, his voice soft but neutral. I couldn't tell if he was letting me dig my own grave or was withholding judgement until he had all the facts.

"No," I muttered. "I had a few small scholarships, and I did work, but it wasn't enough." I wiped my eyes again, furious at myself for crying, and even more so that I was letting my emotions get in the way of what I wanted. "So I dated older men who gave me money to help with my tuition and books." I pursed my lips as I wiped my eyes with the back of my hands again. I gasped softly as I tried to get control of myself. "If they weren't willing to help, we didn't date long. I was sleeping with two, sometimes three different men at the same time."

"The same time?" he asked, his voice still soft and nonjudgmental.

"Not the same time, as in, well, all of us in the bed together, but dating two or three at the same time."

"Did you tell them they had to help you with school if they wanted to get into your pants?"

"No, not really, but they knew."

"So they offered to help?" I nodded slowly as I sniffed and wiped my eyes again. "Did I make you feel like a whore when I paid for your clothes?" I shook my head. "Why not?"

I glared at him. "What are you saying, that I should have?"

"I'm just asking the question. If my buying your clothes didn't make you feel like a whore, why would having a guy buy your books or whatever make you feel that way?" I shrugged, unable to meet his eyes. "I bought your clothes because I wanted to. I didn't do it because I thought that was a way to get into your pants. You needed clothes, and I wanted you to have them. I didn't care about the money. Maybe the other men felt the same way."

"Maybe," I mumbled.

"I keep telling you money can't buy happiness, but you know what it can do?" I shook my head. "It can make me happy that I was able to do something nice for you." He hooked a knuckle under my chin. I didn't want to look up, but he kept increasing the pressure until I did. "I don't think you're a whore. I never did, and I don't now. I told you, I don't care what you did or who you slept with in the past. I only care what you do since we met, and I don't think you letting me buy you clothes or rent this cabin makes you a whore... just like allowing other men to help you with school doesn't make you one."

I held his gaze. "You don't think I used them?"

He shrugged. "You ever tell them 'no money no fucky?'" I shook my head, a small smile over his weird word on my face. "Then no, I don't think you used them." He paused as he held my gaze. "They gave you something you wanted, helping pay for your school. You gave them something they wanted..."

"My body," I murmured when he didn't continue.

He shrugged again. "I'd have said your company, but in effect, yes." He continued. "Did you feel obligated to have sex with me when you arrived?"

"No."

"Do you think I'm a john?"

"What? A john? No!"

"Why?" He held my gaze, waiting for me to answer. "Think about it. I've paid for your company. I bought you clothes, I've paid for your meals, rented this cabin, paid to have you flown here. If you're a whore, I've bought and paid for you, but you just said you didn't feel obligated to sleep with me. If you didn't feel obligated, then I haven't bought your services." He paused and smiled at me. "I don't feel like a john, and you said you didn't see me as one either. So, if I'm not a john, you can't be a whore. If these other guys were in the same situation as I am, if I'm not a john, then they can't be either. If they're not johns, you can't be a whore. Make sense?"

I tried to wrap my mind around what he was saying. He made it sound so simple, so black and white. Yes, I'd selected men to date that appeared to be well off, men who I thought would be willing to spend money on me, but I'd never demanded money from them, and I never dated anyone who was married. While I might drop a hint, telling them I couldn't see them one night because I was working extra hours to buy books or pay tuition, often that was all it took before they'd offer to help.

I never cared about this before. I hadn't felt whorish and I hadn't cared what people thought. Now, however, I did. I felt like I was taking advantage of Will, and I didn't like how that made me feel. These feelings had been growing for the past week or so. I'd tried to deny them, but I could no longer escape the truth. Having him see through my subterfuge had forced me to examine myself, my motives, and the type of person I wanted to be. Will was a good man, a very good man... and I was a woman that used people, despite what he said. Guilt settled over me. He cared about people, about me, and all I cared about was taking a share of his money. He deserved better than me.

"Maybe," I mumbled.

He kissed me softly. "No maybe." He paused again and smiled. "But I can tell you something that is certain."

"What?" I asked as I sniffed again, wiping my eyes a final time.

"I'm going to take you upstairs, but I'm not going to fuck you. That's what a john does to a whore. He fucks her, and she fucks him. I'm not going to do that. What I'm going to do instead is make love to you. That's what people do when they enjoy each other's company. They share something special, something intimate, they give and take, not because they've been bought and paid for, but because they want to."

I whimpered, the threat of tears returning. "I'd like to do that too."

"Why?" he asked softly.

"Because I want to."

He stepped in and slowly pulled my lips to his. "I want to too."

He kissed me as he pulled me off the island and into his arms. He'd softened when I went to pieces, but as he carried me across the room, my arms and legs wrapped around him, he became the man of steel again, and I could feel his cock brushing against my ass.

He carried me up the steps without apparent effort and lowered me gently to the bed, following me down and kissing me slowly, gently, erotically. It was an amazing kiss, so unlike any I'd ever experienced before. He slowly pulled back from my lips, his gaze holding mine as a small smile played on his lips. For the first time in my life I wanted to fuck—no, not fuck, make love to—a man, not because it was a way to get something from him, but because I wanted to share something with him.

He began slowly kissing down my body. As he moved lower, each slow press of his lips a flair of pleasure, I wadded my hands in his hair as the fires of my passion began to roar like never before. He'd told me several times that money couldn't make a person happy. I'd always heard that was true, but I'd never believed it. I did now. I was no Billy-Ray Ogden, but this year I was going to make over a hundred thousand dollars. That was a goal I'd set for myself, a target amount that I thought would make me happy, but it hadn't. I hadn't realized until just now that the hollow place I felt inside couldn't be filled by money or possessions. It could only be filled by a person. I couldn't fill it, but someone else could.

His soft, warm lips touched my most intimate area and I shuddered in pleasure. I realized I wanted Will, not for his money, but for his companionship. I didn't love him, I hadn't allowed those feelings to develop, but I wanted to. More importantly, I wanted to be better than myself and become the woman he thought I was. I suddenly aspired to acquire not his money but his kindness, compassion, and generosity. I wanted to become more like Will the person, not Will the billionaire.

As he licked and nibbled me to rapture, I resolved to take my secret to my grave. He seemed satisfied that my admission was the secret I was hiding and now he'd never know that I'd wanted to meet him because of his money. I whimpered in pre-orgasmic bliss. For the first time in my life, the money my lover had wasn't the most important thing about him. I began to quiver as my climax surrounded and consumed me. I realized that I cared less about what Will could do for me than what I could do for him.

I wailed loudly as a titanic orgasm, perhaps the hardest climax of my life, poured through me, burning away doubt and fear as my back arched in exquisite agony. He was giving me pleasure unlike any I'd experienced before, and I soaked it up like a sponge. In another first, I was caught in the throes of not just pleasure of the flesh but also pleasure of the soul.

I gasped as my orgasm released me, every nerve still crackling with residual erotic energy. Will was a good man, a great man, the most giving, most understanding, kindest man in the world, and he'd just given me the most mind bending, brain melting orgasm of my life, but that paled in comparison to the sudden opening of my heart.

I didn't love him, but I could. I could give this man my heart, and I smiled as that hollow place inside me began to slowly fill. I opened my eyes and he was there, his face and eyes soft. I'd seen that look before, but I'd always assumed it was the result of me fucking him stupid. Now I understood it for what it was. It was the look of someone who cared, of someone who enjoyed doing for others.

I returned his smile as I pulled his lips to mine for a long, luxurious kiss. The soft caress of his lips was electrifying. He'd always been a good kisser, but none of his kisses could compare to the one we were sharing then. His kissing couldn't have improved that much since this morning. What had changed was me.

He slowly ended the kiss. "Fuck me," I murmured, wanting to feel him inside, desperate to share myself with him.

He slowly shook his head. "No," he whispered.

I felt a flash of crushing disappointment, but then his words from the kitchen echoed in my head. I smiled. "Then make me yours."

His smile spread as he moved between my legs. "Always," he breathed as he sank to my depths.

The thinnest of threads holding back my orgasm parted, and I roared in pleasure as I came a second time. My body burned in orgasmic fire as Sage squirmed under me, her face the picture of a woman caught in the teeth of a withering orgasm as she added her soft wail to my bellow of completion. I collapsed over her, holding her tight as I shuddered, slowly thrusting into her as I was ravaged by my climax, the sting of her nails biting into my back another source of pleasure and excitement as we became incandescent with the pleasure we shared.

"Fuck," I whispered as my climax washed out of me and we relaxed as one, our chests heaving as we gasped for breath.

She shook her head slowly. "I can't," she panted with a smile. "I can't come again."

I was softening rapidly but in no hurry to move, enjoying her closeness and the feel of her body beneath me, our flesh damp with sweat as we slowly recovered from our love making. I took her lips in a long, slow, kiss.

In three days, Sage would be leaving for Chicago. I'd heard confession was good for the soul, and it had been very good for Sage. A heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She'd always been an energetic, adventurous lover, but the last four days were like she'd broken free from a confining shell. I couldn't place a finger on what was different about our love making, but we both sensed it.