Shade Page 3

Once we’re done, we grab our drinks, and take a seat at the kitchen table.

  “He’s late,” I say, glancing at my phone.

  “Yeah, he is, but I don’t want to call him. If I do, he says that I’m nagging. And I hate when he says that. He’s been doing this for a few weeks, now. That’s another thing that’s been bugging me, especially since we almost never go out together. He walks out of the house under some pretext, and five hours later he comes home with some stupid explanation. He meets a friend who has a friend who invites him to a party at another friend’s house. Shit like that. There’s always someplace he needs to be. It’s either related to work or a friend that I never get to meet.”

  She roots a blank stare to her drink.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Well, it is what it is. Knowing what I know now, I would’ve never gotten married. I’m not so sure I want children either. Not like this, anyway. At least you and Josh are not married. You were smart enough not to do it.”

  “Well, it’s not like I didn’t want to do it. He was the one who kept putting it off, and I gave up eventually.”

  Running nervous fingers through her hair, she breathes out a sigh.

  “Anyway… I don’t want to talk about him anymore. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about the man you met tonight.”

  “Well, I can’t quite say that I met him...” I mutter, a slow smile curling my lips. “Never in a million years, I would’ve thought that I would fuck someone in a public space, a stranger nonetheless.”

  “Was he good looking?”

  “He sure was. Handsome as hell. Tall, blonde hair, green eyes. Athletic build.”

  “Mmm. Yummy.”

  “There was something different about him, and I noticed it right from the beginning. He was the last guest who walked into that conference room, and he didn’t want to take a seat. For the most part, he stood in the back of the room, his back propped against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. At the end of the presentation, he was the first one who walked out. Later on, I caught him glancing at me a couple of times, but I never thought much of it. I, on the other hand, have spent some time studying him. It was hard not to notice him. He had a swagger to him and wore his suit differently. He looked detached, in a world of its own. A few people approached him, men and women, all talking business. Once in a while, he sauntered down the corridor and vanished out of my sight. At one point, I started checking the messages on my phone and got sucked into my own crap. When the party started, I slipped out of the event room, strolled down the same hallway, took the stairs to the lower level, and looked for a place to be by myself. That’s how I found that empty terrace. Sunk in darkness, it was overlooking the city, a panoramic view stretching from side to side. He was standing there, smoking.”

  Mystified, she listens to me, her eyes peeled wide, sparkling.

  “This sounds like fate,” she says.

  I smile softly.

  “I don’t know if that’s what it was. He...”

  I pause, my voice starting to break.

  “I shouldn’t have drunk so much wine,” I say, struggling to keep my bottled up.

  Tilting her head to the side, she gives me a small smile.

  I take a long breath before I speak again.

  “I think he just caught me in a bad moment. But everything he said to me was spot on. It was uncanny.”

  I stop again, and bite my lip, fighting back my tears.

  Maya’s hand slides onto my shoulder, trying to comfort me.

  “When he tore away from me I felt a pain in my chest as if something inside me was screaming for him. I know it sounds strange, but I’ve never felt like that in my entire life. And in retrospect, it says less about him, and more about me, and my fucked up life. He gave me a taste of something else, and said things about Josh that were so true,” I say quietly, my voice drowning in tears. “He said that Josh was probably off somewhere else, fucking other women.”

  She looks at me, stunned.

  “Did he really say that?”

  I nod softly.

  “Yeah, he did… Among other things.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought it was fun,” she murmurs, confused.

  “It was fun. The best sex I’ve ever had, and that’s an even bigger problem,” I say, grinning bitterly.

  She pushes the tissue box to me.

  “You’re a mess,” she says, trying to inject some humor into our conversation.

  “Yeah... I am...” I admit. “So, the thing is... I told you how I usually don’t get off with Josh... “

  “Yeah...”

  “No matter what we try. I’m never hot or wet or whatever... and I’m always stiff as a broom. And he doesn’t like to do a lot of things that could turn me on except, of course… the actual thing. ”

  “Okay...” she says, a smile stretching across her lips. “Are you telling me...?”

  Her eyebrows tilt up.

  I nod.

  “Mmm-hmm. The moment he put his hands on me, every part of me was churning heat. My body was practically begging him to fuck me, and he did, and it was really good. It was so intense I thought I’d pass out on the handrail.”

  “Yes!”

  Her palm slams the table, her face so cheerful my lips curve into a smile.

  “I knew they are out there. Hard to find and catch, but they are there. Thank God, there’s hope. Can you find out who this man is?”

  “I could ask around, but my gut tells me to drop it. He didn’t want to give me his name, and there must be a reason for that. Anyway, it’s not like I’m going to see him again.”

  The main door opens and footsteps rush in.

  “I’m back,” Matt throws over his shoulder in the general direction of the kitchen without glancing at us. “Maya, do you mind taking the garbage out? It stinks. I have to take a shower now.”

  A second door opens and slams shut as Maya jumps to her feet, her eyes blazing, her lips trembling. The blood draining out of her face.

  “What the fuck was that?” I ask, my insides twisting.

  Tears come to her eyes, faster than I can wrap my arms around her.

  “It’s okay... I’m fine,” she says, peeling away from me, but I know she’s not.

  “Okay... I’ll go now. Call me if you need anything,” I murmur, my voice lined with sadness.

  She gives me a quick hug before I grab my bag and head to the door.

  3

  SHADE

  I’m hardly a fan of sleepovers.

  Let me rephrase it.

  I fucking hate sleepovers, mainly because I’m not a man of subtle conversations. Hardly in the evening, and never in the morning.

  I don’t like to talk to anyone or see faces in the morning.

  I love my space clear of people and free of words, and there’s a good reason for that.

  Unless instructed otherwise, the staff makes every effort to stay out of my way, and my mother knows better than to bug me with her stupid shit before four o’clock in the afternoon.

  And Roger... Well, he’s almost never home.

  But once in a while, I make an exception, just because I like a blowjob in the morning as much as the next guy.

  A decent one if I don’t ask for much.

  That’s why having a qualified girl in my bed makes total sense. To me, it’s like having a blowjobs drive-through in the middle of my bedroom.

  All I need to do is roll on my back, pull the sheet off, kick back and enjoy it. No warming up, no introductions, no trade-offs. She doesn’t even have to get me hard. I’m always good. Especially in the mornings.

  Like fucking now.

  I flip my eyes open and scan my surroundings. The curtains are pulled to the side, bright sunlight washing my room.

  What the fuck is that? Didn’t I ask for a pitch black room?

  Yes. I fucking did.

  Growling, I sink my fist into my pillow.

  Fucking Elia.

  She’s so fucking smart. She always knows
better. That’s her idea of micro-managing everything. I can run something as long as she overrides every damn decision that I make.

  Grunting, I roll to my stomach, my hard-on aching beneath me. I stretch my leg and explore the other side of the bed.

  Why is it fucking empty?

  That’s not what I had in mind when I dragged that girl home from that boring ass party late last night.

  She made the fucking cut and all when she passed all the tests, mostly the ones involving her mouth and my cock.

  In the bathroom, in my car. Out of my car.

  Where the hell is she?

  A sound of splashing water comes from the shower. Good. I hope she’s rushing because I’m busting at the seams.

  An ominous sound comes from behind the double door. Elia’s voice thunders across the hallway, barking orders at the staff, and then it echoes so much closer. And closer.

  No, no. Fucking no.

  She doesn’t fucking dare.

  The doors slam open, just as I pull a sheet over my naked ass.

  “What the hell do you want?” I growl, lying flat on my stomach.

  “Shade?” she calls out in a sweet voice as if she has no idea what she’s walked into.

  “Get the hell out of my room, Elia,” I grump, my face buried in my pillow.

  She struts to the middle of the room, her heels clicking on my brain.

  “Is someone in the bathroom?”

  “Use your fucking brain, woman.”

  “Can you tell her to go? I need you to get out of bed and join Roger and me for a business lunch.”

  I flick my head and scorch her with my glare. She steps back.

  “You must be out of your fucking mind. I’m not going anywhere,” I say deadpan.

  “We’ve talked about this, Shade. You know that it’s your job,” she keeps yapping, and I know what her plan is.

  She’s set to drive me crazy until I pull my ass out of my bed and do what she says. That’s my fucking mom. Too bad that it never works with me.

  “We may have talked about it, but today is not a good day for me. Now, get the hell out of my room.”

  I plop my face back into my pillow.

  “But––”

  “There is no fucking but,” I rumble. “There’s only one job I have in mind right now, and that’s the blowjob I’m about to get if you care to walk out of that fucking door. I’ll talk to you when I’m done. Okay? Now, go.”

  Huffing, she spins around, her heels tapping the floor all the way to the door. That fucking noise.

  Just before she steps out and I’m about to sigh with relief, the bathroom door opens and a crystalline voice I don’t quite remember echoes in my ears.

  “Hi, Elia... Ms. Hennessy.”

  The heels stop clicking against the floor.

  “Hi, Lola. You can call me Elia. Lola, right?”

  Wait. What? Who the fuck is Lola?

  Did I fuck one of my mom’s friends?

  She doesn’t sound like one, but voices are deceptive, and so are the looks, these days.

  Whoever this Lola person is, I hope she came out of the bathroom looking half decent.

  I pull up again and cut my eyes across the room.

  Sporting a towel wrapped around her chest, her dark hair damp from the shower, Lola in question smiles to my mom, reminding me of a preppy girl.

  Fuck. Not that again.

  That’s like getting oatmeal after a month-long oatmeal diet. That's all I’ve fucked in that posh Swiss school. Was I blind last night? Or perhaps I drank too much?

  Yeah, that would do.

  Like mold, I can spot the preppy flavor from a mile. How did I fucking miss it?

  I find it worrisome that they exchange pleasantries as if they know each other. And they probably do, but more concerning is the glee glowing on my mom’s face.

  Oh, don’t tell me.

  Elia hurries to make herself scarce faster than I can blink, at the same time, throwing giddy glances over Lola’s shoulder.

  I flick my middle finger up in her direction as Lola turns her back to us and bends over a chair, reaching for her clothes.

  Elia winks, and I mouth to her again.

  “Get the hell out.”

  She finally closes the doors.

  Leaping up to my feet, I drag the sheet with me, heading for the bathroom.

  Angry and hard.

  “Shade?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll see you tonight?”

  “I’ll call you. All right?”

  “You didn’t want to...?” she smiles at me, her eyes glinting with mischief.

  I feel remorseful for pulling her into this shit.

  “I did, but it’s not gonna happen. Okay? I gotta go somewhere.”

  “Okay, no problem. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Cool.”

  I turn to her, kiss her on her forehead, and vanish into the bathroom.

  Half an hour later, I walk out of the shower, pull my sweatpants on, and run a towel over my damp hair.

  Guided by the screaming match, I amble across the hallway and make a beeline for the kitchen.

  “He knows it...”

  Elia’s voice grates my ears when I bust the doors open.

  Roger, a tall, good-looking man in his fifties leans against the windowsill and slices his eyes at me briefly before he swings his gaze back to my mother.

  Fashioning a new look–– a fitted black dress that hits above her knees and sets off her platinum jewelry, Elia struts to me.

  I hold my hand up in the air.

  “I’m here. I’ll go wherever you want me to go. No need to shout. Okay?”

  “Shade...” he says.

  “I know, Roger. I know. I got it. I’m not an idiot. I’ll get ready.”

  I stride away from them, enter the hallway, and leisurely make the trip back to my bedroom. Elia’s heels clink clank on the floors right behind me.

  By the time I enter my room, she catches up with me. Without a glance in her direction, I snatch my phone from the nightstand and dial a number.

  “Shade?” she chirps.

  I turn to her and hold my finger up. She freezes.

  The other end picks up.

  “Hey. It’s me.”

  Her eyes turn into a pair of beaming lasers.

  “How soon can you get me into that apartment?” I ask.

  Her eyebrows shoot up.

  “Shade?” she tries.

  Clamping my hand over my phone, I shush her.

  “Cool. Yeah... And for tonight…” I say, locking Elia’s eyes, “I want an escort.”

  Her brow furrows, her hands clawing at her hips.

  I smile, amused.

  “Make sure she’s clean. Tested. Huh? Don’t care. Brunette. Fine. Actually... make it two. Yup. That’s fine. Later.”

  I hang up before I swagger into the walk-in closet, pull out a hanger from a rack, and grab a tailored shirt and the matching pants. Spinning around, I bump into her.

  “Why the hell are you still here?”

  “What are you doing, Shade?”

  “What does it look like?”

  “Why do you want to move out?”

  “I’m no longer seventeen, mom. I’m done having you breathe down my neck. I’ve been in prison for the last... I don’t know... Twelve years or so?”

  Her teeth grit. I flash a smile glowing with satisfaction.

  “I don’t need your fucking space and approval to have some girl suck my dick.”

  “You can’t do this.”

  “I can, and I will.”

  “You don’t have any money, Shade.”

  I drop the clothes on the chair and stride to her. She starts walking backward until her back hits the wall.

  I lean toward her, my palm bracing the wall next to her head.

  “This is how it will go down, Elia. You make sure I have enough money to do whatever the hell I want, and I’ll make sure you have the man for your business. Deal?”
<
br />   She looks at me, batting lashes, her brain computing.

  “Do you want me to say it again?”

  “No, I got it.”

  “Great. Perfect timing. I need to clothe my ass now, so if you’ll excuse me...”

  I grab my clothes and walk toward the bathroom.

  “What about Lola?”

  I stop and slightly turn, not looking at her.

  “There will be no Lola.”

  “Do you know who she is?”

  “I have no fucking idea.”

  “The girl you just fucked is Lola Hemingway, the heiress of the multi-billion estate that bears her last name. Old money, and new money.”

  Oh, that explains a lot, doesn’t it?

  Elia’s smug smile, the instant stamp of approval that she’s given to that girl, and the greed glinting in her eyes.

  “Good to know. I’m not gonna touch her again.”

  “Shade... just think about it.”

  Without listening to another word, I slip into the bathroom and slam the door behind me.

  TARA

  “Are you sure about this?” Josh asks.

  “Yes, it’s only temporary. I’m on a new pill, and we need a secondary contraception method as a backup,” I say, sounding so damn clinical.

  Reluctantly, he puts the condom on and eases himself in. On my back, I roll with each thrust, my head pounding into the pillow stuck under my head. The cover goes up to his waist, hiding most of his body, and as I glance in the wall mirror at my side, it looks like we’re camping in the middle of the bed, our tent struggling with the gusts of wind.

  I try to grab him, but he pushes up and props himself on his arms, the only connection between us, the point between my legs.

  It’s harder than I thought, condom and all.

  After the first few thrusts, I get drier, and he gets softer, and we’re heading to a disaster. There’s no way I can fake anything right now.

  The more he moves, the worse it gets. I’m all sore, and not for a good reason. I pray that he stops and dismounts me. He does, and then I wish he hadn’t.

  Huffing, he pulls the sheet off me, wraps it around his waist, snatches his clothes off the chair, and rushes to the bathroom.

  Half an hour later, he walks out, fully dressed. Khakis, a long sleeve flannel shirt, and a blazer.

  “This is not going to work for me. I’d rather wait until you’re good with your new regimen so we can do it without it. Okay?” he says emphatically.