Candidate Four (7 page)

Natalie awoke abruptly, sleep still in her eyes as she adjusted to the dark room, lit only with the first touch of a dusky morning sunrise. She couldn’t have been asleep for more than a couple hours. Tiredness dragged her back into the seductive lull of sleep when she heard the noise that had woken her to begin with: a man’s voice, raised, angry and familiar. The twelfth man. The voice was muffled and came from an adjoining room. Natalie sat up and pushed the sheets away from her body, her bare legs prickling against the cold air in the room as she walked from the bed to the double-door entryway, cracking one side open an inch to inspect the source of her bidder’s dismay.

The twelfth man was pacing across the carpet, a laptop open and illuminated on the couch to his side, paperwork and glossy black folders with some kind of insignia embossed in gold strewn about the seating area. He held a phone to his ear with one hand, the other hand brushing absentmindedly through his hair.

“Of course, it’s always about money. What does she want me to finance now?” He continued to pace as whomever was on the other side of the phone answered, their response obviously displeasing to the twelfth man; he was nearly on the verge of ripping out his hair. “Fine. Amend the document and send it to me when she signs. She’s been threatening me for months and now she’s dragging her feet. Of course it’s only about the money, Mark. What else does Celine know? I don’t care if I’m just giving her what she wants. So long as I placate her she’ll give me what
I
want. Try to limit her on how much she asks for though. I’d like to think I’m not just throwing my money away for nothing. Okay great.” He brought the phone from his ear and tapped the screen, ending the call without so much as a ‘goodbye’ to Mark, or whomever he was talking to.

Natalie continued to watch, following the twelfth man as he sat on the couch next to the open laptop, swiped and typed on his phone, then turned his attention to a thick black folder filled with paperwork. His cell phone buzzed and lit up at his side, and when he looked down at the screen his face tightened, his brows and lips in straight lines.

“Celine, good morning.”

Celine!
she thought excitedly. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, that she was the interloper in an obviously private conversation. But her curiosity was piqued, her tiredness forgotten, and she took the opportunity to learn something,
anything
about the man who wouldn’t so much as tell her his name.

“Mark will make the amendment and send it to you later today,” he continued. “Honestly I could care less,” he sighed. He leaned back into the couch and slouched like a teenager, letting his body sag into the plush seating. “No, I’m in LA. I’ll be in New York on Monday. I’m not interested in that, Celine. Just sign the paperwork. It’s what you’ve wanted. Fine, you do that. No, don’t put h-“ He sat up instantly but still slouched, looking even less like the in-control man she’d met earlier in the evening.

“Good morning, Frankie,” he said, his voice changing from borderline hostility to something passing for warmth in an instant. “Oh wow, second place? Good job, buddy.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, free hand scrubbing over his face and forehead. “Of course, I’m sorry I missed it. Next year I’ll bribe the judges and you’ll get first place, deal?” He laughed, a deep hearty laugh and put his head in his hand, fingers laced through his hair. “I’ll come pick you up from school on Monday. Of course I promise. Be good for your mother. I love you, too, buddy. Bye.”

Oh shit
. Natalie turned her back against the door she’d been peeking out from and put a hand to her mouth, trying not to emit any semblance of a sound that might reveal she had just listened in on a very private conversation. She stood still and inhaled slowly and deeply through her nose, exhaling the air through her mouth and fingers as quietly as she could muster.

Mark. Celine. Frankie. Three people in the twelfth man’s life she was obviously not meant to know about, and she’d listened in on his conversations as though they were a soap opera she had inadvertently changed the TV channel to. They could have been anyone to him. Mark, she was sure, was a lawyer, but Celine and Frankie? Those conversations were more personal, and in Celine’s case, volatile. Was she a former business partner? A relative he didn’t get along with? She didn’t recall seeing the twelfth man with a wedding ring, but maybe she was something more to him?

Stop it! I shouldn’t have even been listening
, she admonished herself, turning for the bed and walking to it as quietly as her feet could carry her, trying to push the three strangers’ names and whatever way they were linked to the twelfth man from her mind. When she reached the bed she climbed back in, the sheets still warm from earlier. She picked up her hair and laid it out over the top of the pillow away from her neck, turned to her side, closed her eyes, and attempted to fall back asleep.

Just as her heart had settled into a more regular rhythm she heard one of the bedroom doors open and the twelfth man’s footsteps stop at the threshold.

He must have just stood there. A moment later the door came to a close, the locking mechanism clicking into place. His footsteps made little sound but she could feel his presence coming closer. He shuffled a bit at the other side of the bed with what sounded like fabric, then pulled the covers up from the bed, briefly exposing her backside to the room temperature air, and laid down beside her.

He remained motionless and let out a long breath of air, the sound like the wind in the quiet of the room. She matched her breathing to his, inhaling when he inhaled, exhaling when he exhaled, until their breaths were in quiet tandem. Her eyes drooped with fatigue and she let herself relax into the bed. She had nearly fallen asleep when she felt his hand at her side, his fingers touching the cotton fabric of his borrowed shirt against her body.

Propping herself up on an elbow, Natalie turned in her place in bed until she was facing the twelfth man. His eyes were open and appraising her in the rising golden light of morning. His face had softened considerably since she saw him through the crack in the door when he was obviously distraught and pulling at hair and skin. In bed he was calm, collected and composed, but not without the intensity she knew was part and parcel of his demeanor. He was naked as far as she could see, the bed covers coming up to just above his bellybutton.

“This looks familiar,” he whispered, referencing the shirt.

“Sorry. I sort of borrowed it from your suitcase.”

His eyes followed his fingers as they moved across the smooth cotton hem from her hip to stomach, then beneath the fabric hovering just above her skin. “That wasn’t very polite, Natalie. I’d like my shirt back, please.”

His eyes finally met hers, and in them he conveyed some thought left unspoken that she couldn’t determine. Her heartbeat picked up. Warmth bloomed between her thighs, a sensation she could become familiar with that he could seemingly elicit with just a look.

She leaned in and kissed him chastely, puckering her lips against his and sucking with gentle force. He still smelled divine, his scent intoxicating in the close contact. She captured his bottom lip between hers and watched him as she kissed him, knowing his eyes were nowhere else but on her.

Whatever personal drama she had overheard had only served to remind her that for all intents and purposes he was a stranger, and that a night spent together in no way made him familiar to her. And yet in a strange way he was. She felt more comfortable next to him -- half dressed or completely naked -- than she had any other guy she’d been with. There was a comforting familiarity in his confidence that helped to quell the nervous energy she felt around him otherwise, his good looks and charm fierce and intimidating to her. She didn’t have the benefit of his name or the personal details of his life (save for what little she’d overheard), but when she kissed him it somehow seemed perfectly okay.

She leaned back into the bed and observed his face, noticing that beneath his handsome features there seemed to hide a bit of sadness he couldn’t quite keep from his eyes no matter how he tried. He looked weary, and there was a tint of purple on the skin beneath his eyes.

“You look exhausted,” she whispered. “Maybe you should get some sleep.”

“I’m not interested in sleep right now, Natalie.”

A ribbon of electricity tickled through her skin. “What are you interested in?” She tried to suppress the smile that came as she spoke, but the sound of her breathing, which had become heavier in the wake of kissing him, gave her away.

In lieu of answering, the twelfth man’s hand moved to her backside and angled her hips until she was flat on her back against the bed, pulling her close to him. He turned to top her, the bed sheets falling away from his body as he did so to reveal the rest of his nakedness. He straddled her thighs. Fingertips in possession of the shirt he pushed it across her chest. Natalie arched her back to give the fabric clearance and the shirt was gone, freeing her own naked body to him and the morning light. He smoothed his arms between the sheets and her back, hands coming to a soft grip at her shoulders. His weight supported by his arms, he stretched his body over hers until they were flush together, skin to skin.

“What’s your name?” she asked for the third – or was it the fourth? – time. The twelfth man leaned his weight to one arm and brought the other to her chest, his hand cupping the side of her breast with his thumb tucked into the underside. He squeezed, gentle pressure and skin-to-skin contact erecting her breast to a pink point. His mouth came to the other side and kissed at the skin, lips parted as his tongue lavished her flesh as he would her mouth. He then turned his attention to the other breast, mouth covering areola, and a soft moan slipped through her lips as she arched again into his embrace.

He worshipped her body with his mouth, kissing her breasts, trailing down her center and to the side where her torso curved out into hip. He hugged his arms around her waist until his hands were pushed into the pillowy mounds of flesh at her backside. He bit down on the flesh at her belly button and she yelped, eyes flying open to look down at him. He had her flesh in between his teeth and in a revelatory moment she realized the bite turned her on. The bite turned to a kiss, his mouth sucking at the skin until it pulled away from her. When he let go the flesh was a vibrant pink against her usual fair white.

The twelfth man kissed his way down from her stomach to the apex at her thighs, his hands picking up her hips until they were angled at his mouth. Natalie turned her head towards the window and closed her eyes as he kissed her, her legs widening as his tongue opened her.

She delighted in the drunken sensation of his wet tongue smoothing over the interior hood above her clit before circling around and over the bud itself. She wanted to lift her hands above her head and stretch her body beyond limit until she was as open as a blooming flower in his mouth, but instead parted her legs further to the side and reached down until her hands were in his hair, fingertips raking against his scalp as he suckled her.

Bright light burned beyond her closed eyes. She opened them to find the room and sky filled with yellow gold light as the sun ascended from the eastern sky. Her toes twitched involuntarily, muscles stretching and contracting throughout her body. Her hips moved quickly against him, his hands pulling and tugging at her skin to the point of pain. She pushed herself into him and he responded with long strokes across her delicate flesh, teasing her into a heightened state of arousal.

When he pulled away from her body she gasped, her hooded eyes filled with a desire ready to implode, searching his face for explanation. She was at the precipice of desire, wanting and ready to cross over into total abandon. The twelfth man placed sweet
,
chaste kisses along her hips and stomach, up to the space between her breasts and finally to her neck. Her hand went between her legs, fingers massaging where his tongue had just been in an attempt to maintain the delectable arousal he had elicited in her. She craved for that high.

“Not yet.” He grabbed her hand and pulled it out from her body, pinning it out to her side. Natalie, fueled in an instant with a red-hot desire to come undone, fought against his strength and attempted to pull her arm away from him. He grabbed her other arm and held them both at her sides. “I said not yet.” Despite the forcefulness of his voice he was smiling, enjoying her fight.

“Let go of me!” she protested.

“No.” He grinned down at her, lustful eyes watching her squirm beneath him. “You wanted ruin. This is ruin.”

She couldn’t take it any more. The twelfth man had thrusted, touched, licked, stroked, and caressed her every which way, bringing her to climax only to soothe her back into an unsettling state of perpetual wanting. She was frustrated and spent beyond belief, powerless to do anything but accept the pleasurable torment from the man.

She could barely open her eyes as his lips kissed at her ear, the very sensation of his touch to her skin reigniting a fire in her that had refused to completely extinguish. She had to stop this, had to keep him from ruining her beyond repair.
Isn’t that exactly what you wanted?

“No. No more.” She pushed his head away with her hands and used her feet as leverage to crawl out from under him. She tumbled gracefully from the end – how she got there to begin with she had no idea – the bed covers coming with her to soften the landing. She stood, stark naked and quivering from over-satiation, and tumbled into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

An oversized claw-foot bathtub big enough to accommodate at least three full size adults dominated the beautifully appointed bathroom. Bath bombs arranged like pastries adorned a tiered silver platter on a built-in adjacent to the bath. Natalie grabbed one at random, started the tub faucet with steaming hot water and threw the bomb in, watching the bathwater explode into a vibrant shade of turquoise. Before the tub could fill completely Natalie stepped inside, winced at but ignored the hot water and buried herself deep beneath the surface. When the water reached her neck she shut the faucet off with her toe and closed her eyes.

She was beyond exhausted, past the capacity to move freely without some part of her body protesting. Even from behind closed eyes she knew that morning had come and was filling the room with the light of the new day. It hadn’t even been twelve hours since she first laid eyes on the twelfth man; it was amazing what a difference half a day could make. She’d left her apartment Natalie Harlow, broke college graduate with a mountain of student debt and a job that maybe promised a little advancement in the coming years, and when she returned home she would be a slightly richer college graduate with a mountain of student debt she’d pay off in regular installments each month, plus all the other things that made her just plain Natalie. And all she had to do was sell herself to the highest bidder.

The oddest part was how little she cared. She had expected to feel something about what she’d done, some irrationality she could justify away until her guilt was quelled. But in place of guilt there was only acceptance. She’d slept with a man for money.

I could have done worse
, she told herself. She could have been bid on by a different man, a man like the one just one floor beneath who had leered at her while he screwed his Candidate. Or someone else entirely. Instead she got Gentleman Twelve; he was absurdly good looking, charming, and right from the start gave her as much freedom as one in her situation could be given.

Yes, she lucked out, had won the lottery in a sense and could now go about her life as though it never happened.

Except… what would happen once she left? Quinn never mentioned anything about seeing a Gentleman again except in the rare occasion one came back and bid on her again. But she wouldn’t be coming back; in all likelihood she would never set eyes on the twelfth man again.

As if on cue he opened the bathroom door, his eyes coming to hers immediately. He had partially redressed in a tee shirt and a pair of designer boxer briefs, his hair a rumpled mess atop his head. He leaned against the doorframe and ran a hand through his hair in the way she’d seen him do when he was on the phone with Celine.

“I, uh, just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I am. Nothing a hot bath can’t fix,” she chuckled, the movement slightly painful in her abdomen. “And maybe about a week of massage therapy.”

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He looked as exhausted as she felt, only there was something else to him she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“If you’re hungry I’ll order breakfast. There are still a few hours before you’re absolutely required to leave.” It sounded like a joke, but like the smile it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m not, but thank you.”

“Okay.” He tapped his palm against the doorframe and turned to leave.

“Wait!” she called out, stopping him in place. He turned and eyed her curiously, one brow arched higher than the other. “Come sit with me.” She nodded in the direction of a padded backless chair at the vanity and he just stared at it for a moment before sliding it next to the tub and sitting down, elbows propping him up on his legs.

She breathed and considered her next words carefully, hoping to avoid irritating him in any way. Based on what she heard from his phone calls he was not a man to piss off. His fingertips grazed the edge of the bathtub, but his eyes were elsewhere, staring somewhere in the middle distance away from her.

He didn’t look like a man who had spent most of the evening having what she thought was the best sex of her life. Maybe it wasn’t that great for him? The thought troubled her.

“Are you happy?”

That seemed to catch his attention. His eyes bore into her again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you happy? Did I please you? Did I…” she searched for the right words, “render service adequately?”

His hand went to his chin and brushed against a crop of stubble that had grown overnight. “I suppose that depends entirely on you.”

What?!
“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Are
you
happy? Did I please you?”

She was flabbergasted, and suddenly very shy. How could he even ask such a question? The night and morning had been one pleasurable experience after another, and she certainly wasn’t complaining about the quality and quantity of orgasms.
Boring college sex, indeed.

“You have to ask? The only part of my body not completely shutdown from sex is my brain, and even that is hazy and a bit hungover.”

“Then yes, you rendered service adequately.” This time when he smiled it did reach his eyes, but it was sardonic in nature, and made her think there was something more to him than just good sex and relationship drama.

And then, as if she’d been staring at a puzzle that had confused her all night, a critical piece came into view and the world was suddenly clearer. The quality and quantity of orgasms was plentiful…
for her
. He hadn’t come once.

How… was that even possible?
She thought back through the night. Straddling him in the room with the double-sided mirror. She came, he didn’t. They started again but left when the other Gentleman was a little too leery. Then later when he said,
‘I want to see you when I make you come’
. She’d quickly fallen asleep afterwards, and he hadn’t finished then. And then came ruin; he had fucked her every way imaginable, but still he had never come on his own, always deferring to her pleasure, her orgasm, never once satisfying himself.

‘I suppose that depends entirely on you. Are you happy? Did I please you?’

‘They’re paying for you for the evening. Believe me, they already know what they want to do with you. Or to you.’
Quinn had explained.

Was that the twelfth man’s taste? Paying to get a girl off without ever getting himself off? Why? That was something other than selflessness. It bordered on sadistic, only the person he was hurting was himself. At that thought her eyes went to his hips. With the way he was leaning and how his shirt draped over his thighs she couldn’t get a clear answer to her question.

He raised his head from his hands at the sound of a ringing telephone from the adjoining room, and stood with a sigh. “Excuse me,” he said before standing and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him. She could just barely make out the sound of his voice as he answered the phone. He didn’t seem very pleased with whomever he was speaking to, and she wondered if it was someone new or maybe Mark or Celine from before.

What kind of life did the twelfth man lead? He was obviously wealthy to an obscene extent; Quinn had inferred as much about the Gentleman who bid on Candidates for an evening of their company. He didn’t look or act more than ten years older than her and yet between the levels of intensity and stress he seemed to operate at he might have had the heart of a much older man. He hadn’t slept at all and spent what time there was away from her that evening working and taking phone calls. And yet in spite of all those factors it was
she
whom he wanted to please, not himself.

Without another second of hesitation Natalie stood, reached down and tugged the bath plug to drain the water and wrapped herself in a towel as she stepped out, the still-warm water receding around her legs. She reached for a second towel and brought it to her hair, ringing out the excess water as quickly as she could before securing the damp tresses into a knot at the nape of her neck.

Clutching the towel around her bust
,
Natalie stepped quietly towards the main room and found him sitting on the couch, his attention locked on his phone as he swiped through the screen. He had found the time somewhere either in the middle or after his phone call to put on a pair of jeans, but they were unbuttoned and open at his waistline. She diverted her attention from his body and took a seat in front of him on the coffee table like she had the previous evening when they first entered the penthouse. He put his phone face down next to him and looked at her expectantly.

“Before I left or forgot I wanted to say thank you.” His brow furrowed, his eyes searching hers back and forth. She continued. “Of all the ways tonight could have gone- Or rather, of all the Gentleman who could have bid on me, I’m glad it was you.”

The twelfth man looked amused, like he wanted to smile but couldn’t summon one on such short notice. “You really are too polite, Natalie.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. But the way I see it, there are enough assholes in this world. A nice, polite girl like me might just tip the scales a little. Besides…” she gripped his knees with her hands and used them to leverage her sore body down to the ground between his legs. “I think you’re worth being polite to.” She slid her fingers under the hem of his shirt and up his torso, bringing the cotton fabric up with it until his taut abs were exposed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, a vein of nervousness in his voice.

“Returning the favor,” she shrugged and smiled as her hands met the denim fabric of his pants and pulled the two sides further apart. They widened enough over his hips that she was able to tug down the boxer briefs and spring his semi-erect penis from its containment. He hardened completely in front of her eyes and her smile broadened. The part of him that had brought her the most intense physical pleasure and she’d only just now had the opportunity to see it up close. At a hearty eight inches he was nearly perfect. The head was pinker than the shaft and for all the work it had done without coming to completion she half expected it to be blue.

She wrapped her right hand around the base and tipped it at a slight angle to her lips, parting them open and over his soft, circumcised head.

“Natalie, you don’t-“ he breathed, then silenced when she put him in her mouth and came back up, her lips pulling gently at the ridge between his shaft and head. He inhaled sharply and let it out with a loud groan as his head fell backwards towards the couch. Her left hand smoothed up his hip to his stomach and around the smattering of hair that formed there as her right hand pumped and rotated up and down his shaft, her mouth kissing at the head.

She had him halfway in her mouth when she looked up at him, turned on by the heaviness in his eyes, the absolute lust and desire that burned within them.

“Natalie,” he breathed. He leaned forward and put his hands beneath her arms, pulling her up and off him as he stood. She opened her mouth to protest but he silenced her with a kiss, tasting her with an urgent need. His fingers made quick work with unknotting the towel tied at her chest and when it was free he tossed it carelessly to the ground. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his torso in quick response, tightening already-tired muscles around him like a vice. He kissed her hungrily, ravaging her mouth with his.

He turned and carried her into the bedroom, falling into the unmade bed and on top of her with a crash. He broke their contact and looked down at her, concern troubling his face.

“Shit, are you okay?”

Natalie took his momentary distraction and concern for safety as an opportunity and upended him, straddling his legs and pulling at the denim pants and boxer briefs that were only partially covering him. When they were down around his knees she climbed closer and straddled his waist, bending to kiss him as he kicked off the remaining garments from his legs. His hands cupped her breasts, fondled at her pert nipples and smoothed down and around to her backside. She took possession of his shaft again and held him still as she guided him inside her, groaning at the full length of him again, satisfaction tearing through the spent muscles around him.

The sound of him moaning was enough encouragement to keep going, and she clenched and unclenched around him, pulling up and coming back down his length. With his arms wrapped around her he inclined, bringing them both to a sitting position nose-to-nose, his erection full and pumping inside of her.

The closeness of their bodies, her legs and arms wrapped around him as he feasted on her lips, eyes open and tearing into her… she could barely breathe she was so overwhelmed. She returned every kiss while rocking her pelvis up and over the length of him. She moaned into his open mouth before his tongue claimed hers again, her hands gripping tightly to the sides of his face. She could barely breathe. Every thrust he met in kind until his voice joined hers, every sigh, every moan in sync with her. His mouth sucked at her earlobe, wetting the delicate nub of flesh as his breaths swept past her ear like wind.

She was close. Too close. She both feared and anticipated the impending release and surrender of her body to him. She moved faster, clenched tighter around him, her body begging him to release with her, to finally come inside her as he had made her come so many times earlier.