"I only have to listen to you when we're in the kingdom. Out here, you're just a peasant like the rest of us.
Chapter 6
"We'll be there soon."
Good thing I had the foresight to have a car waiting. When I left my apartment, I had every intention of this night ending with me shit-faced and laid. If I checked those two boxes, I accomplished what I set out to do. Going back to my place before midnight wasn't on the agenda. Neither was running into Selene. But right now while all my plans are a big fat fail, I consider myself the luckiest son-of-a-bitch on the face of the planet because here we are, together; heading to the one place I never brought any girl aside from my mother and my sister. Ever.
I want to say something. Actually I want her to say something. But neither of us has spoken a word since I helped her into the car. If she doesn't speak soon I'm going to lose what little is left of my mind. She seemed like she was into me, until I decided to toss her over my shoulder. Now I can't be sure. The silence is pricking my skin like little tiny needles. She's not making a sound, and it's driving me fucking crazy!
"Selene. If you really don't want--"
"No. It's okay." Her blue eyes shift my way for a second before turning back to the window.
I don't speak any further. I mean, what is there to say? I don't know, but I'm sure if I try to say something I'll just end up putting my foot in my mouth. That seems to be my specialty when I'm with her. I choose to keep my mouth shut and play the cold heartless dick. It's a role I've mastered.
"Evening Mr. Sutton, sir," the doorman greets us.
"Night, Adam."
"Wow," Selene says as we walk down the hall to the elevator. "Is this a hotel or an apartment building?"
"Apartment building," I answer recognizing the look of awe on her face.
She's discovering one of my favorite things about this building; it has everything. I don't have to leave it. Ever. That's what I love most about living here. If I don't feel like it, I don't have to step one foot outside of this structure. At all. It has everything: a dry cleaner, a small convenience store for things like milk, toilet paper, and all the necessary shit, a restaurant, a gym. You name it, it's in the building. There's even an indoor pool I have access to. The part I don't like about it is the extravagant price tag. Every red cent I earn goes into this place. But you have to act like the elite if you ever hope to be one of the elite. Not that that's my end game, but it sure as hell isn't a bad place to start.
And living here has helped. Helped a lot. The day I caught the woman down the hall staring at me on the elevator my life turned around. While appreciating the long legs and curvy ass she was showing off, I know better than to shit where I eat. Not that fucking her would be shit. There's got to be some reason this cougar trend has taken off like a rocket screeching into space. I'm guessing it's because a woman with a few years on a guy knows what she wants; and can direct his ass to perform. In my head I sifted through excuses to let her down gently. I planned to use everything from the fact that her husband wouldn't approve to the fact that she lives down the hall.
To my surprise, she didn't want to fuck me. At least not that she'd admit. She was a best-selling author and asked if I'd like to be on the cover of her next novel. I grasped that opportunity with both hands and held on tight.
Once the contract was signed, she arranged a photo shoot that lasted over two days. The first day was me alone; dressed up in a tux, a suit, shirt open. Shirt off. Everything off. In bed tangled in the sheets, water pouring down my chest, down my back, right down to the crack of my ass.
She wanted a plethora of images for promotional teasers. The next day she arranged, for a hot chick to join us. A hot chick that gave the mother of all blow jobs. That part was off camera. I was a happy boy. Still am, as she pays me more than anyone else I've worked for. Due to the success of the novel, she turned it from a standalone into a series. A series that uses me on each of the nine covers so far, with no end in sight.
She credits part of her success to me, and her cover artist. Together we brought a fresh new look to the industry. One that everyone wanted a piece of, and everyone is trying to copy. My phone and my checking account blew up.
While living here keeps my savings on the endangered species list, I stay and enjoy every minute of it, because I'm sure at some point, the buzz around me will simmer down. Women won't want me. Not with the same demand I've had over the past three years. I've no doubt when they have their fill of me I won't be able to make my monthly payment and my ass is going to get kicked out of this place.
"How's your head?" I ask turning the key in the lock, my heart sputtering.
"Fine."
I'm hesitating outside my door, because I'm not a hundred percent sure I made the right call in bringing her here. What if this is a mistake. Am I willing to let a piece of ass ruin me? Is that the risk I'm about to take?
When I hook up, I never tell the truth about what I do or where the women might recognize me from. When I attend events with the authors, I flirt, I take pictures, but I never go back and fuck the fans. I've gone out and partied with the authors, and even that stays platonic, but never the fans. I keep a low profile about the modeling so if I fall into a mess like I did with Madison/ Madeline, it doesn't destroy me or anyone I'm associated with. Here, now, I slipped up. Selene's not from the writing world and she knows about me. She knows who I am and what I do, and now she knows where I live.
I'm so fucking stupid!
I'm standing here frozen. I feel like a thirteen year old boy having his first go round with a prostitute. Is my hand trembling? What the fuck is wrong with me?
I'm not an inexperienced kid. I don't get nervous around chicks. I remind myself of June and Janice hanging all over me less than an hour ago. There were no nerves there. They wanted me and I wanted them, simple as pie. Does Selene want me? I think she does, but she's been so hot and cold. Simple solution to both problems; bring her in, make sure she's okay and call a cab to send her on her way.
I can't let anything happen with her. Nothing. I need to forget this chick, because when I'm around her I act, I don't think, and that's bad on so many levels. I need to cut her loose because I feel it in my gut, if I don't, she's going to destroy me.
I open the door and stand back with my arm extended for her to enter. I push, no shove the thought of shutting the door and slamming her up against it out of my mind. I can't. I won't. Because she's hurt. And nothing can happen I remind myself. Nothing. Can. Fucking. Happen.
"Excuse the mess. I didn't plan on having company. I say looking at the pile of clean clothes strewn over the arm of the couch.
"You really live here?" she asks looking around and taking it all in.
"Yep. Home sweet home." I drop my phone and keys on the coffee table next to the couch, she follows suit and places her purse beside them.
"It’s amazing. You have everything in this building. It's like a five start hotel, but a million times better since you're not packing up on a regular basis."
What's the deal with her and hotels? I wonder if she has a sugar daddy. Probably. And the shit must have a wife. That's why she's so fucking paranoid. Dumb ass. Selene isn't the one you keep secret, she's the fucking trophy you carry around and show off.
She walks over to the entertainment center and lifts a photo frame off the shelf. I see the disappointment in her eyes, and fuck me, it pisses me off to no end. I don't want her to look at me like that.