MATCHMAKER (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) (25 page)

When I turned around, I was in the street again, the street where I was robbed. I felt the robber come up behind me. This time, he immediately began beating my head over and over with his gun. I tasted blood. It was only a dream, but I could taste it. I looked down in horror, feeling as though I was outside of my body, seeing the red run in pools to the floor. My
blood.

I cried out, not realizing that I had screamed in Fiona’s ear. She jumped, her eye mask falling off her eyes.

“Jesus, Billy, not again,” she wailed.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, truly meaning it. “I had a nightmare.”

“I can’t wait to go to therapy so I don’t have to deal with this shit anymore. I wish she’d just fix you already.”

“You act as if I’m broken.”

Her eyes were cool, mean even. “Trust me, if there’s anything I’ve known in my life, it’s that you’re fucking broken.”

“That’s a damn lie.” I gritted my teeth and turned away from her.

“Yeah? Prove it. Make some money. Not much has been coming in lately.”

I remembered what Zach said. I hoped this was one of the few occasions he didn’t take after me, because I was seldom wrong.

Katie

Kent had this kind of innocence about him, almost like a noble knight. He wanted to do good, no matter what. When it came to me, he was even more childlike and awe-struck. I knew it was corny to say that, but it was true. His innocence was such a contrast for Mr. Carson’s feral behavior that I felt comforted, calmed by the thought of Kent. I craved a normal, familiar place. I wanted to eat popcorn in front of him, knowing I wouldn’t be self-conscious of the cheap, all-American cuisine. Deep down, I knew that as much as I was intrigued by and lusted for Mr. Carson, he intimidated me. Why then, had he made me so wet tonight?
This is wrong, Katie. Just remember, you had a polite dinner, nothing more.

I felt the money in my pocket and questioned myself. Accepting a business endeavor was fine, but was that all I had accepted when I grasped that money? And the touching—I looked forward to it so much, pined for it. I was hungry for a chance to feel his rough skin against mine. I was embarrassed because I hadn’t put lotion on my hands today, and it was winter. I hoped he didn’t notice it.
“Snap out of it,” I scolded myself quietly. The driver looked up.

“What was that, miss?”

“Nothing,” I said. “We should almost be at the movies theaters.”

I saw Kent. He had a warm hat on, and his hands were in his pockets. He wore jeans and looked so familiar, so cozy. I thanked the driver as I got out of the car and waved at Kent. His face lit up like it always did when he saw me.

“Hey there! You look great,” he said. “I feel like I should have worn a suit.”

“No,” I said, hugging him tightly. “No, you look great.”

He pulled me away from him and looked into my eyes with that searching gaze I sometimes resented him for, the kind of gaze that was likely karma from all the times I saw through people.

“You okay? You look shaken up.”

“Yes. I’m well. I just went to dinner with Mr. Carson,” I said casually, trying so hard to keep an even tone.

“Your client?” he asked, a bit shocked.

“Yes, it was a nice gesture. And it served its purpose,” I informed him, walking towards the ticket booth.

“I already bought our tickets. I remember you wanted to see
The Scene.
” He looked thoughtful. “But what was the purpose? You know you have to be careful not to cross boundaries—and did you inform him of the risks of the outing?” he asked, going into counselor mode.

“Thanks for the ticket... and, yes. In so many words. It was fine,” I assured him.

He’d always trusted my professional judgment before. He seemed to now as well, nodding his head. He trusted me way more than I trusted myself.

Second stage of crossing the boundary point: At this stage, the counselor has briefly crossed the line, but has stepped back into propriety, examining the transgression and working to overcome it. However, once the initial line has been breached, the counselor leaves footprints and some actions may not be undone or overcome. This is why taking immediate defensive action is crucial, before the situation worsens.
I recalled, citing my own thesis.

I’d made it to point two and nearly crossed it with one foot. But I hadn’t yet, which was all that mattered. Next week, when his fiancée came to the session, everything would be set straight. Our roles would be solidified. All would be well. But the idea of his fiancée being there made my heart sink just a little.

“Let’s just go inside. We’re late,” I said. The warmth of the theater bathed me gently. The lights were dim, and I relaxed.

Kent took my hand gingerly. “Want to get popcorn?”

“Sure. I’ll go in and get us a seat. The back is usually clear this time of night. Meet me there.” I winked.

He smiled brightly and nodded. “Any soda pop?”

“Diet,” I said. I had never liked the sugar mixed with the tartness of a refreshing drink. “Oh... and fizzy rocks,” I added wickedly though he didn’t get the joke.

“Gotcha.” He stood in line like such a gentleman. I didn’t take my eyes off him until I entered the dark theater. True to my expectations, there weren’t many people in the theater; it was almost ten p.m. The back was totally clear, though it was hard to see. The low light of the projection screen above helped a little. The theater chairs were a bit more luxurious, though they looked flimsy in comparison to the restaurant Mr. Carson had taken me to. I felt guilty thinking this, so I settled down, feeling childishly excited about the popcorn and movie.

The previews began, and they were dull as hell. I was relieved when I saw Kent with one big bucket of popcorn and a soda to share.
“Aw, you got diet for me. Sacrifice.”
“Anything for the best colleague ever,” he teased.

He sat next to me and took his coat off. His body was slender and tall. I liked his height, and there was something sexy about his slim physique. Most of all, though, he was familiar. Guys my age were not as foreign or dangerous. Guys Billy’s age? They’d eat me for breakfast. My mouth suddenly felt dry. I took a sip of the soda, noting how fountain soda always tasted better than the kind in the bottle.

He placed the popcorn between us and handed me the fizzy rocks. They were just as I remembered from my childhood. They coated my tongue, popping and bristling. I enjoyed the sensation.

There was another sensation I enjoyed, too. Kent wasn’t expecting what I was about to give him. The movie would not be the best part of his night. The wild side in me was waking up. Mr. Carson had awoken it. I was filled with lust, filled with desire. I wanted to make Kent squirt everywhere. I wanted him in my mouth.

The movie began. We enjoyed our popcorn, sharing mutual laughter at the antics of the characters in the film. I gently moved my hand over to feel his crotch. His eyes widened, and he looked around. I did too, just to make sure no one could see us. Only two people were in the theater, and they were fixated on the screen. I put my hand over my lips and slid gently to my knees in front of him, trying not to make any noise or giggle. He looked straight ahead, only stealing a few quick glances. His hand played with my hair, slowly and gently. He knew what I was going to do. Although he was a person who played by the rules, I’d raved to him flirtatiously before about how good I was at giving head, and he was wickedly curious.

I got out the fizzy rocks and sprinkled them gently on my tongue. They foamed pleasantly. I wondered if they really sounded as loud as they did in my head. He looked down and let out a soft breath, squirming in his seat. I undid his belt gently, trying to forget about Mr. Carson. I would lose myself in pleasing Kent. I wanted to.

His cock was a bit stiff; he wasn’t so innocent after all. I looked at him as I took him into my mouth, swirling fizzing rocks around his head, a sensation that must have been unique. He let out a low, quiet moan, covering his mouth and chuckling into his hand. I continued as his cock swelled in my mouth. The combination of my warm tongue and the fizzing made him grow quickly, so much so that he barely fit in my tiny mouth.

I released his cock, watching it flop up and down. The candy coated it, fizzing. I lapped it up gently, enjoying his reaction. He shifted in his seat, grabbing onto his chair for support. He tried taking a sip of his soda but could barely swallow it as I took him into my throat, my tongue flicking over his balls. He sputtered. Some of the soda landed on his cock. I released him from my throat and gently lapped it up.

No one in the theater was any the wiser. It was so dark, increasing each sensation. The movie blared on loudly in the background, but it couldn’t steal the show from me. I moved my head up and down steadily, the rocks aiding me as they tickled him and fizzed. He leaned over, gripping the seat in front of him for support. His head moved. He was starting to lose his composure. He gripped my shoulder as if to let me know he was about to explode. I moaned quietly, though I didn’t care anymore if anyone could hear me. My pussy was wet with arousal, my juices dripping down my legs. I wanted his cum so bad.

He grunted in pleasure, releasing his hot load into my mouth, angling himself deeper into me. I swallowed the first thing all night I really had wanted. I didn’t question my judgment. I just wanted it. His body quivered as he moved to sit in his chair again. I cleaned off the cum and candy and zipped him up. I climbed quietly back into my seat.
“God...” he said gently, squeezing my hand. “Wow.”

I licked my lips. I had teased him so long that the movie was nearly over. We cuddled in the chair. I drank an extra-long swig of soda. I was thirsty after that neck workout.

Kent and I stood outside the theater after the movie ended. I dreaded the time alone to think about the day.

“Come back to my place with me,” he begged. “I want to hold you tonight.”

It sounded so tempting, but so did my bed. There had been too much emotional bombardment today. Though it would be scary to be alone with my guilt, I craved my own bed, my own world away from the city.

“I’m taking a cab,” I said.

“Okay.” He looked down. “I know you need your alone time.”

I nodded and used my phone to call a cab. It arrived quickly. I was perceptive enough to know he thought that ordering a cab was strange, when I’d usually take the train. But he wouldn’t ask any questions that I couldn’t begin to answer tonight, though. We hugged our goodbyes, and he walked away into the distance. I felt his warmth move away, and I was back in the foreign world I didn’t know.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“Yonkers, please,” I said. I showed him the money.

“This is a prepaid ride,” he said.

Oh no,
I thought,
that sly bastard. This is money he is giving me, not to use for a cab.

The human part of me took over during that car ride, the part of me that reluctantly cherished the luxury of a long cab ride. I enjoyed not having to walk to the train after a long day, with the ever-present chance that strangers would talk to me. It felt so fucking selfishly great, it really did.

That morning, I’d had a bill, a huge tuition bill with some new charge they’d tacked on this year. I was selfishly relieved that the burden was gone, that it could be handled by the money in my pocket.

When I finally got home to my dark house, I collapsed into bed. I clasped my eyes shut and cried. I’d crossed the line, and I couldn’t handle what that meant. Next session would make it right. I would just have to wait until then. And tomorrow, the sun would come up, and it would be a new day. It would all be okay.

Katie

I was nervous about meeting Fiona. Part of me was guilty, and part of me was nervous that I wouldn’t be able to maintain my professional demeanor. I had meditated before getting ready and leaving the house. This time, I would make everything right. I would set great boundaries and follow them. The nightmare of last week, and the lines I’d crossed, would fade away.

I needed the money for school, after all. I could accept generosity, because I needed it and would return it. I chose my clothes more carefully than usual, taking note of the red outfit I had picked—the pitfalls of being so self-aware, the burdens of my training.

I paid no mind to my own childishness and went to work. I waited for what seemed like forever in my office, unable to focus on anything. Finally, a knock sounded at the door.

Billy walked in, arm-in-arm with the woman I recognized as his fiancée. To my immediate delight, she was not as extravagant as she looked on the news. She looked me over, a fake smile plastered on her face. Beneath that smile, though, I could see tiredness. I felt suddenly bad; the counselor part of me checked in; I could genuinely see her angst. This had affected their relationship, and I would put my feelings aside to help. It was my job, my duty.

This mantra faltered a bit in my head when I looked at Billy. His eyes were amazing, as usual. He was sharply dressed in a black suit. He and his fiancée were wearing the same color, which was a clear statement to me. I was crestfallen, a little, but also relieved that I felt this pain. This pain would drive me away from him.

“Hello, Fiona,” I said warmly. “Nice to meet you.” I took her hand gently, carefully, noting her fine manicure. She looked distastefully at my hand—my nails were bland and neat, but that was it.