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“You’re so big. You can move; just go slow.”
Whether I was ready or not, I needed him to move. I wanted to feel him moving within my slick heat. I wanted to feel his tip hitting my sweet spot. I wanted a night that I would never forget, a night with pure and raw pleasure that could potentially ruin me for every other man that came after him. Thankfully, Charlie didn’t need to be told twice. He was instantly slowly pulling out of me all the way to his tip before he was pushing back in. I wrapped my legs around his hips as he started to build up a pace.
No words were spoken between us; the only sounds in the room were our heavy breathing, our moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin. My legs were trembling from the pleasure and my need once again was rapidly building. My whole body was tingling from the sheer amount of panting I was doing. His grip on my hips was bruising, and I couldn’t help but wonder if tomorrow I would see actual bruises on them. Surprisingly enough, that only caused a deeper pleasure to shoot through me.
We were both nearing our climax. I could feel him getting harder inside of me. His thrusts were becoming more erratic, and I was right there with him. After another dead on hit to my sweet spot, I wasn’t tumbling off the cliff; I was swan diving and landing in a sea of ecstasy. I was fairly confident that our next-door neighbors could hear my scream as I came hard and fast. The tightening of my walls was enough to push Charlie over the edge who came with a deep growl as he spoke.
“Maya.”
I couldn’t suppress the moan at feeling him pulsing inside of me. That was one of my favorite things about sex. This moment right here where I could feel the man pulse. It always sent a shockwave of pleasure throughout my body and caused me to pulse right along with him. Charlie bent forward and placed his forehead against my own once again. I wanted to kiss him, but I honestly didn’t have the energy or strength to close the small gap between us. He seemed to be in the same boat as me. So, we both settled for focusing on our breathing and enjoying the ride on the pleasure train for a little bit longer.
After what felt like both an eternity and only a second, Charlie was pulling out of me and stumbling off the bed. I managed to close my legs and slowly push myself up into a sitting position. I had to close my eyes for a second as the room spun, but it only lasted a second or two.
“Fuck,” I said as I tried to get my mind to work. I had to get dressed. I had to walk back to my car and get some sleep now that I was beyond exhausted.
I watched as he took the condom off and tossed it before he managed to get his pants on. What happened next wasn’t something I could have predicted. He pulled out some cash and held it out to me.
“I’m not sure what you charge, but that should more than cover it.”
“Excuse me? I’m not a fucking prostitute,” I snapped as I got up and started to toss my clothes on.
“I’m sorry. I thought you were. I don’t mean any disrespect by that,” he instantly said.
“You called me a whore, but you don’t mean any disrespect. Are you kidding me?” I quickly finished getting dressed and shoved past him to get to the door.
“Hang on, don’t leave yet,” he tried.
“I’m not spending another second with you,” I countered as I placed my hand on the doorknob. I was just about to open it when he quickly spoke again.
“I have a business proposition for you. And I swear it doesn't involve sex, but it would mean you wouldn’t have to sleep in your car.”
I turned back around, now fully on guard. “How the hell do you know that?” I asked as my hand slowly went behind my back so I could get into my back pocket where the small pocketknife I had was kept.
Charlie
Well,thishadn’tgonehow I was expecting. I never assumed someone was a prostitute. I have used them in the past, typically escorts. It was just easier when I had to go to a charity event or if I was feeling that itch. I didn't need to pay for sex. I was a former NFL quarterback and thanks to a lot of smart investments and not wasting my money, I was also a billionaire, the last thing I needed to pay for was sex. I didn’t go with escorts because I couldn’t get any otherwise. I went with them because it was just sex. They didn’t have any ideas of us getting married. They didn’t demand anything from me. It was a straightforward transaction, which I preferred. I was a single dad. I didn't have all that much free time, and when I had it, I didn't want to waste some of that time trying to find a girl for a one-night stand. I had never been in this position before though when I was so horribly wrong with my assessment.
I held my hands up to show her that I wasn’t a threat. It didn’t escape my notice how her hand went behind her back. I knew there wasn’t a gun tucked into the back of her jeans, but I had no idea what was in her pockets. Everything in her body language told me she was ready to pounce should she need to.
“I did not mean to offend you. When I came into the bar, some of the guys at the bar were talking about how much they thought you were. The bartender made a comment about how you were living in your car. That he saw you sleeping in it last night on the other end of town. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you at all.”
“Who the hell do you think you are to make that type of assumption about someone? About a woman? Why, because I was sitting alone and sleeping in my car that must mean I’m desperate enough to give it away for fifty bucks a fuck?”
I was definitely not going to be paying her fifty dollars, but I suspected that tidbit of information was not going to make this any better. “Again, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have judged based on circumstances or the fact that you didn’t react to me like women normally do.”
“What the fuck does that mean? What, because I didn’t throw myself at your feet, I must be a hooker? How self-centered are you?” she said with a shake of her head just disgusted by this conversation. She wasn’t the only one. I never thought I would be in this position, and I clearly wasn’t handling it right.
“My name is Charlie Beaumont. I was a Quarterback for the Houston Texans for close to six years. People tend to know who I am, especially in Texas. When you didn’t react like a fangirl, like most women do, I assumed that meant you were used to high end clients. Again, I am sorry.”
“I hate football and even if I didn’t, the fact that you are an athlete means nothing to me. It’s just a job. I don’t get all googly eyed when I drive by a construction worker. I couldn’t care less who you are.”
She truly meant it to. I could hear it within her voice. She didn’t care about who I was; to her I was just another guy. Well, another asshole now. “That doesn’t really happen in my experience. I am sorry. Like I said, I didn’t mean to offend you. I shouldn’t have assumed. I still think we could help each other though.”
It had been a couple of days since I had met with Mr. Doyle, and I knew my clock was ticking. I had three months to find someone to play my wife and get to Rose Falls to sign everything over before the bank was able to take the land back. I couldn’t allow for that to happen. When I first returned home, I thought maybe this would be crazy. That I couldn’t do something like this. It wasn’t like I was finding a wife. I was trying to find someone that could be my fake wife for the next year. It was insane. But then I got home, and Zoey was upset. She had been having a very hard time at school. She was in a private school because I knew it would be easier in terms of security. We lived in a very large city, and I didn’t want to risk her being grabbed by someone and used for ransom.
The problem was though she had never grown up as a rich kid. I had simple tastes. I’ve never allowed my wealth to change how I lived. I didn't have a five thousand square foot house with eighteen bedrooms. We had a three-bedroom house on an acre of land. I bought it my very first year playing pro, and from the time I purchased it until now, with renovations, it cost me close to a half a million. Which was nothing to me, but I didn’t want some house that was cold and felt like it should be in a rap music video. The kids at her school though, their parents all had fifteen, twenty-million-dollar homes or condos. They had nannies that drove them to school in a sports car. I took her in my truck. It was just a different life, and she was having a very hard time fitting in. This move would be good for her. She would be able to go to a normal school without any risk to her safety. She could be around normal kids that didn’t talk about wanting to just be famous for a living. In order to do that, I had to find a wife.
“Right, this supposed business proposition that doesn’t end with me locked in some basement for the rest of my life.”
